A Mile a Minute: The World of Mrs. Saditty

Daddy is in the Kitchen!?!?!

I have not posted any food pics in a while (and ya'll know I love me some food pics!) and this past Sunday provided an opportunity. I was feeling crappy and the kiddies had growling stomachs. I felt guilty but I had no intentions of getting up to do my normal Sunday dinner. Mr. S was outside fiddling with his motorcycle and after a while, he came in and cleaned himself up. The kids complained to him about how famished they were and I felt even more guilt. But understand, I do the majority of the cooking and these kids always get hot food. I was just not feeling it! We had a fridge full of leftovers and cold cuts and stuff but I guess they've grown used to Sunday dinner. Soon, I heard pots and pans banging around and one by one, the kids came into the bedroom with worried looks, telling me, "Daddy is in the kitchen." None of them seemed happy and with good reason. I hate to hurt his feelings because he sometimes reads this blog, but my husband CANNOT cook. Well, let me correct myself--me makes great onion rings and Smoothies but anything else?? BBBBbbbbleeeeeeeeeeeeeeech! He came into the bedroom to get his computer and went back into the kitchen. He came back a few minutes later and informed me that he was making Sunday dinner using an internet recipe. Of course I asked him to take a few pictures of his progress.

An hour and a half later, he called us to the table. He'd thrown together some Hoppin John (which I've never made and had only eaten once). We all cringed inwardly but dug in.......it was actually pretty yummy! He used my GOOD Basmati rice instead of the everyday kind (he says it was an accident) and canned black-eyed peas. The kids loved it and I can't lie, your girl Mrs. S was slightly jealous. I won't be a meanie and post the pics of him in his around the house Sunday garb, but let me show you a few pics of his work. Enjoy!

Hoppin' John a la Mr. Saditty

 

Personally, I would've added some celery and cut my veggies smaller but I GUESS he did a good job...LOL... Love ya'll, Mrs. S.

Jamaica? No Problem!

Hey ya'll! It's been a few days but your girl has been distracted. I have the most WONDERFUL news in the world to share with ya'll but I'll wait another day or so.Needless to say, I am back in effect! I wanted to share a few pics of our trip with you guys...

A shot from the airport shuttle en route from Montego Bay to Ocho Rios.

 The view of Ocho Rios from our little porch.

 

 

  Jerk baby, jerk baby, jerk jerk jerk!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A picture of a natural waterfall at The Ruins. I kept hearing running water while in our room or on the porch and could not figure it out where it was coming from(it helped me to sleep like a BABY!). We became hungry and wandered off and discovered this right next door!

An alternate view of the Falls at the Ruins.

 

The famous and fabulous Dunn's River Falls. It took Mr. S and I nearly an hour to climb from beach level to the top of the falls. Not bad? Wrong! A group of eightysomething year old Austrian and German tourists beat us up there by about twenty minutes. I couldn't take my camera on the actual climb BUT I wish you guys could see them standing at the summit in their Speedos and micro-kinis...a-m-a-z-i-n-g!

 

Mr. S is going to HELL. Why, you ask? Well meet Carlton. Carlton works at Evitas, a restaurant in the Blue Mountains with an AMAZING view. It was booked solid every single night....until Mr. S got the bright idea ofcalling and saying that I was a food critic attempting to write a review. Instantly, we had a table on a balcony overlooking Jamaica. Carlton wasted no time telling us how he was an aspiring actor and planned to come to America and put Idris Elba out of work. He insisted on posing and slipped Mr. S a headshot, asking him to give it to his "producer friend"....WTF?????? The closest my husband has ever been to a producer was in a concession line at a Star Trek convention. Carlton honey, don't hold your breath. Since everyone thought I was a food critic, the service was OFF THE HOOK. The food? Imagine licking motor oil off your car's axle. Got it? Good. I guess that was our punishment!

 

A view of the Carribean from Reggae Beach.

Peep this cute little wagon. Vendors push them up and down the street, selling fresh steam roasted peanuts. Mr. S insisted on buying me a bag. I was hesitant but when I bit into the warm creamy goodness called a steam roasted peanut, I was in sheer heaven. Imagine how fast I came crashing down when I stood on the sidewalk chewing as the vendor fetched more water to make steam----OUT OF THE FRIGGING DITCH!!!!!

Mr. S and his 746,288th Rum Punch.

In all, we had a wonderful time with lots of laughs. and great memories were made. It was super affordable.  After talking to a few islanders, we learned how bad the recession/near Depression is hurting the tourism industry. As always, visits to the Carribean and other parts of the world are beautiful yet eye opening. In the United States, we are TRULY blessed. The people of Jamaica are becautiful, humble, and so happy. Makes you think....in the US, we have everything but are not happy with anything. The people of Jamaica and other nations have nothing but still manage to be happy. How can they be happy with nothing but we are miserable with everything? Counting blessings is definitely something that I need to work on!

Love ya'll! Mrs. S

Palate Nostalgia

As my Louisiana readers know (Hey Ali<holla at me!>, Dreamy, GoB, etc!), we have about 10 months of summer and the minute people here feel the first chill in the air, gumbo and soup goes onto the stove.

MrS took me back to when we first started dating. In order to be able to take me on a nice date on the weekend, he would eat whatever during the week in order to save money. He actually called it "Ramen Noodle Love". After a few weeks of dating, I noticed an abundance of Cup 'O Noodle in his paltry Baton Rouge pantry. We met in November and I can remember that in early December, I showed up to meet him and instead of being dressed to go out to dinner, I had bags in hand and was prepared to make dinner. I made him Roasted Tomato Soup with meatballs and tortellini with some grilled prosciutto sandwiches. He 'yummed' thru the entire meal and never mentioned it again until a few nights ago. The minute he felt the first chill in the air, he talked about the first time I made him soup. I took this as a clue and dashed over to the market. Hearing the kids slurp it up and hearing MrS's "yums" instantly warmed my heart up. And here is a reincarnation of that first soup...I present roasted tomato soup with meatballs and tortellini and a grilled prosciutto sandwich. Enjoy!

Succulent Saturday Soul

From the Plate to the Palate: Oysters Mosca

In the Goblet: Plain old Barefoot Zinfandel (I argued that we needed something bolder like a Cabernet but Mr. S insisted on Barefoot)

Oozing from the Speakers: A Decade of Steely Dan. It took me years to learn that these dudes were Caucasian...talk about blue eyed soul? I've been hooked since the first time I head my Dad play "Deacon Blue"

In celebration of Hurricane Gustave moving the HELL AWAY from us, we decided to bring some normalcy back to 2146 (Chez Saditty). Mr. S poured the wine and I prepared the Mosca. Now I have a long history with this dish. Years ago, MrsS was on the debate team at her University. I won the chance to ask a gubernatorial candidate a question during a debate. I even got a chance to have my question aired on "Louisiana, the State We're In" on LPB! :::::those of you familiar with the channel say "oooooooooooooh!" here:::: It was a big deal...they even cancelled the Lawrence Welk show for the debate that night! After the press conference, the politician invited a few of us to this awesome, now closed restaurant in New Orleans (almost Slidell) called Moscas. Now I think it was mob owned a family business because corrupt Louisiana politicians were everywhere, including our table (I know but the food was free!). I found serendipity in  a dish. It was a simple combination of fresh shucked Gulf oysters, brown butter, parmesean, garlic, and breadcrumbs placed under a broiler....HOTDAMN! Sorry, I had to say it. Years later, a friend and I tried to return to Mosca's during Essence Festival however the crime scene tape and abandoned parking lot shooed us away. For years, I've searched for the recipe and finally, a chef at the famous Commander's Palace (yeah, where Emeril got his start) surprised me by hunting it down and emailing it to me. Ya'll think every chef in Louisiana grew tired of being stalked for the recipe? Finally, after ten plus years, here is my own version. Because this is VERY rich and MrS has a semi-sensitive stomach, I threw in a few strands of whole wheat pasta to balance it. Enjoy!

...and oh yeah, we said grace and poured out a sip for this who still haven't been able to return home. You guys are in my prayers.

Let's Stay Home Tonight

I promise, this will not turn into a food blog but I continue to accept challenges and be inspired by other foodies.

Saturday night, we had plans to go to Primo's when the kids dragged out the Candyland game. We instantly felt guilty because they had been left with a babysitter on Friday night. Mr. S admitted that he was kind of tired and that the drive back into Baton Rouge didn't seem that appetizing. So, while Mr. S whipped up some milkshakes and kabobs for the kiddies, I zoomed off to see what I could find.

I'd had a hankering for steak ever since a mid-week convo with pal Val who had it on her mind to grill some so I followed that lead. I made it to my local slaughterhouse (I know, it sounds gross but think of it as the Wal-Mart meat department without all the steroids, preservatives, and inflated prices) and got hooked up by Mr. B, one of the butchers.

I came home to a very loud living room where everyone was watching Madagascar for the 132,859,234th time. D2, my younger stepson and sous chef, came to help me while D1 and Mr. S sang "I Like to Move It Move It" along with the babies and the movie.

In just under an hour, everything was pulled together and it was bedtime for all the kiddies. After a few "Mommy, I don't go to bed"s and "There is somebody in our closet"s, everyone was settled in for the night.

We disagreed on a soundtrack so Mr. S randomly zapped on XM 844. I heard Norman Conner's crooning "You Are My Starship" and smelled the jasmine candles that I had burning (which the babies had blown out a hundred times) and felt a glowing peace. Sometimes, it feels good to stay home because that is truly where the heart is. 

Too Old For a Hangover

A good babysitter who has no where else to be. Old friends from college who tell your husband tales from days loooong before you were Mrs. S (that causes him to raise his brows). Great food and non-stop Wynton Marsalis. Oh, did I mention wine, wine, and a little bit mo' wine? This was us at 2something am, feeling no pain. The picture today? LOL. Not so jolly! A killer headache, cotton-mouth, and a myriad of bodyaches. At what age do you realize that you just can't drink like you used to?

Feeling Fine Friday

Props to fellow foodie and blogger Ashley who frequently features 'Wednesday Wine Down' on her site and at her crib. From today on, consider yourself invited on a consistant basis for 'Feeling Fine Friday'.

Eats: Shrimp and Chicken Scampi

In the Goblet: Ravenswood Zinfandel 2005

Sounds: Sweetback "You Will Rise"

Here's to another week's pay, earned and and an upcoming weekend of loving, living, and laughter. Cheers to you and all you do. MrsSaditty

Chicken Waffles (not chicken and waffles)

Ok, this idea popped into my mind while testing out a pasta recipe given to me by Adrienne. I needed bread to go with the pasta but was too pooped to bake or go out to buy any. I had a ton of extra shredded chicken so I whipped up some pancake batter, added some sage and Tabasco, and threw it on the waffle iron. We added a bit of melted butter and Tabasco. I swear, these lasted mere minutes! It tasted like a toasty grilled vhicken sandwich! Try experimenting with anything in the fridge or the freezer. I can't wait to see what you guys come up with!

Here is my Honey!

MrSaditty and I have a long standing tradition. Every Friday or Saturday afternoon, he comes thru the door, dragging and dog dead tired. I rush upon him because I know that he has "It". "It" started out as flowers or a good bottle of wine which was cool but grew kinda old. I challenged him to change "it" and ever since then, I look forward to my weekends. It has grown from flowers and wine to Japanese bubblegum, a vintage New Edition poster (complete with autograph from RBRMR), a Chicago live CD, a Pink Bible...the list goes on and on. This weekend, he brought these home...Honeycombs! had not had honey straight from the comb since I was a little kid. I plan on enjoying these babies with Tea and toast and anything else that I can think of. I love my man but most of all, I live for and love the teeny tiny things that he does for me. Big, shiny, materialistic things fade away but the little gestures make like that much sweeter. Remember that!

It's Definitely Summer!

Summer and having parents on a farm in the country has it's advantages. What, you may ask? I can give you a zillion but let me instead give you one. Corn! Yep, corn. I know that sounds corny (no pun intended) but I am serious. MrS thought I was crazy but when he first tried fresh fried corn, cut straight from the cob, he had a veggie ephiphany. He sulks when we have to eat the canned or frozen stuff. Here is the fried corn we had...now it isn't really fried, more like fried down in a mixture of corn oil and olive oil. The correct Cajun/Creole name is Maque Choux...well, it is actually Attakapas Indian for "fried corn" but we stole it and still use the name. We usually have it with fresh crawfish tails or shrimp but this time we had it with skinless chicken breasts and andouille. Email me for the recipe but you country gals (Val, where ya at?) probably have your own. Oh and the good thing about being an adult? You no longer have to help your parent's break and shuck the corn...they just call you when it's over to come and get your share when the work is done.