Ham Fried Rice

During the last month, Matt and I have secretly agonized over a possible job offer which would relocate us to Dallas, Texas. I know…big hair, big boobs, Confederate flags and ugly accents come to mind. Sorry “ya’ll,” but I’m no fan of southern drawl. (Yes, we all have preferences and prejudices. Even me.)

Meanwhile, I concocted this recipe to represent the flavors I may miss out on. And it’s Body For Life approved for the health and diet conscientious. As always, the measurements are approximate, because I never really measure when I cook.

***Not Moving to Texas Chicken***

• 6 chicken tenders (if using breasts, pound thin)
• 3 tsp salsa (I used Pace medium)
• 1 tomatillo, chopped
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 T chopped cilantro
• olive oil
• salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Drizzle olive oil over chicken. Sprinkle with minced garlic and salt and pepper. Spread about 1/2 tsp of salsa on each tender. Sprinkle chopped tomatillo and cilantro on top. Cover with foil and bake for 25 to 30 minutes. Serve over rice or alongside black beans and corn.

You could probably throw everything in a crock pot and cook on low for a few hours and shred the meat and serve in tortillas. In terms of Scoville heat, this is relatively mild enough for my two year-old. But I suppose if you wanted to kick it up a notch, you could add minced serrano or jalapeno peppers to it. Or try it with salsa verde instead. Yeehaw!

Update: I added asterisks because the title of the recipe seemed to be overlooked. I’ve had three people ask me. Sorry to be confusing! I happily introduce “Not Moving to Texas” Chicken.

For Sunday dinner I made my husband’s and son’s favorite: roast and potatoes with gravy and green beans and muffins. While we dined, we watched the news. Mission control at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Lab in Pasadena was nervously awaiting for a signal from the Mars Phoenix Lander probe. (They refer to it as “seven minutes of terror” because it takes that long to transmit anything.) It was so exciting. I couldn’t help but think of that summer in 1969, with families gathered around their black and white televisions, awaiting the news of Apollo 11 landing on the moon.

I have long held a love of space. In third grade I told my parents I wanted to be an astronomer someday. So much for that dream. So tonight as I was hopping up and down with anticipation, I said to my 5 year-old, “You should be an engineer for NASA someday! Wouldn’t that be neat?” He looked at me and replied, “Well, when I grow up, I am going to be a dad someday.” What a sweet boy. I still think he should also consider NASA.

Here’s to my venture into iTunes…finally. I know, I’m quite a bit behind on the downloads. For years I left it to my friends, family, husband, whomever, to download my music. I’d just tell them what I want. Or I’d head over to the local Bestbuy. But tonight, I scrambled to purchase David Archuleta’s version of Imagine before they closed the AI vault. And then I had to buy Coldplay’s new single, Viva la Vida. What an AWESOME song! iTunes promoted Coldplay’s single during the AI finale. And I couldn’t resist how cool it was. (I am a sucker when it comes to good marketing. I would buy a Mac based solely on their advertisements. “Hello, I’m a PC… and I’m a Mac.”) So here’s to the coolness of Apple. Viva la Vida!

Matt and I are avid (ok, die hard) Star Wars fans. (Original trilogy, of course.) But last year, our five year-old saw a clip of Darth Vadar and suffered a few nightmares. Since then, we’ve bided our time, waiting for him to mature a little. Over the past few weeks, we’ve slowly introduced the characters via fun toys and video games. He’s crazy about his Lego Star Wars video game, and I’m crazy about those Galactic Heroes chubbies. Last week, we showed my son and little two year-old a few non-scary clips from Star Wars: A New Hope. The next morning I went upstairs to tend to the baby. When I returned, they had sneaked the movie into the player and were sitting on the couch, deeply engrossed, watching the “robots” and “their friends.”

Imagine my delight when my son saw a brief Indiana Jones clip today and announced, “Hey Mom, that’s Han Solo!”

Yeeeehaw!

Check out what I just received in my inbox:

Dear Karen,

I am contacting you with regard to a publicity campaign that is currently
being undertaken for the new Gillian McKeith book (Food Bible, The Complete
A-Z Guide to a Healthy Life).

We have identified your blog as being influential within the relevant area
of healthy living.

We would, therefore, like to send you a complimentary copy of the book for
your personal review with no obligation.

If you would like to receive a copy of the book, please do reply with your
address for postal delivery.

Thanks,
MediaCo (uk) Ltd

Here are my reactions:

Gullible me: How cool is that! I LOVE You Are What You Eat! Courtesy of one of my favorite channels, BBC America.

Cynical me: Some dork is playing a joke on me and I’m totally an idiot who’s falling for it.

Well, we’ll see if anything comes in the post. If so, I may have to change the name of my blog from hamfriedrice.com to mungbeanstew.com

Last night I went to see Iron Man and it turned out to be one of my favorite superhero films. After a rough week with the kiddies, I needed a moment to myself. Matt was kind enough to stay home and watch basketball, giving me the green light to go out. I purchased my ticket for what the employee called Club 21, an adults-only theatre. Sounds kinky, I know. (Ha! You wish!) Film goers pay a premium of seventy-five cents more to sit in a digital theatre with no screaming babies, children or teenagers allowed. The previews were already playing as I quietly sneaked into my reserved seat. I was sandwiched between a morbidly obese couple to my left and Beavis & Butthead on my right. The small theatre held less than one hundred people; most of them looked like die hard comic book readers, or what I refer to as fan boys. I was probably the most hygienically proficient and most socially well-adjusted among the entire group. (Although, how many women would go and see Iron Man by themselves? I suppose the tomboy in me just takes over.)

The dialogue was witty and the writing, acting and directing were superb. Robert Downey, Jr. was surprisingly excellent. I loved watching his character evolve from a selfish, self-centered boozy playboy into a caring, feeling man who realizes his actions have significant consequences. The most entertaining part of the evening, however, wasn’t the film. Whenever his character Tony Stark was surrounded by scantily clad women, I could hear mutterings, “Ohhhh yahhh” from Beavis & Butthead on my right, as well as from the entire male population inside the theatre. “Huh-huh, huh-huh…” followed by “Ohhhh yahhh!” Forgive the crassness, but I kept thinking, these poor dorks need to get some action. I mean, really. Get a life and go meet some real girls. Stop fantasizing over some images of lipo-suctioned skinny thighs and a pair of fake boobs. I couldn’t help but wonder about the poor woman sitting next to me with her husband/boyfriend. They were each about 80 pounds over weight. I wondered if it hurt her sense of self-worth as the catcalling occurred to the women on screen. I worried if it made her feel uncomfortable or sad. As I relayed this to Matt, he called me a “tender heart.”

But as Matt also succinctly stated, “men are pigs.” And I have to agree. “Ohhhh yahhhh.”

I wanted to be someone great and grand in this life

I wanted to do something everlasting

I wanted to leave an impact on this earth

And be remembered for something

The struggle that I feel within

Crying to the Lord to help me

Find my joy in a mundane life

Is inexplicably hard to bear at times

I know that I’m a mother

Isn’t that the grandest title one can hold

I know it but at times I just don’t care

Until I hold my children close to me

And see the joy in their eyes

Reflecting me

And then I realize I am

Someone.

(copyright 2008)

So of course, after thinking about the 5 Browns and the wonderful experiences they’ve had and what they’ve done with their lives, (see Casting Pearls post) I had to have my big “I’m a failure” cry. And the resulting thoughts are posted above. Ahhhh, blogging is such therapy.