I’m not the type who savors a challenge. I, in fact, will often shrink from one.

Which is why, for all these years, I have never taken on a recipe that required whipping the egg whites “to form soft peaks.” In articles I’ve been cautioned that I need to be VERY careful not to get any yolk in the white. And it’s VERY important to use just the right type of mixing bowl. And so on. It just seemed like there were too many factors I could screw up, so why try at all?

I decided to make a trifle this weekend, though, and that required some angel food cake. The store didn’t have any of those boxed varieties you always see around when you don’t need them. But I was really determined to make this trifle. And my determination often trumps my fear of complicated, challenging activities. (This meshes well with the water-balloong-filling fiasco we had yesterday, too, but no one in their right mind would want to hear about that un-adventure.)

So I bought a dozen eggs and took a deep breath and plunged right in.

Ya know what? It wasn’t hard at all. It was EASY. Easy, easy, easy. I’m pretty sure I got some yolk in there and who knows if I used the right bowl. And the egg whites did just as they were supposed to. They formed soft peaks, yes they did!

I’m doing my Happy Egg-White Dance right now.

I always drool over recipes in magazines. Lately I’ve come across a ton of great drink ideas. But there’s always some ingredient missing or some step I don’t have time for. This sangria was super easy to make, but required at least two hours for the mix to chill. Two hours isn’t forever, but it seems like a crunch most evenings when we’re running around trying to get dinner together, a dirty kid bathed, a dog walked, etc.

Hooray for weekends! I stirred up the lime mixture last night and put the drinks together tonight. Just in time to spend a little time out on the deck. Next on tap? Peach mojitos!

And I get a big kick out of abusing grammar etiquette too.

So I cooked tonight. This used to be a normal occurrence. Lately not so much. I don’t do well with small windows of time. I feel too pressured. It also doesn’t help when Devin comes in the door from daycare expecting dinner to be on the table. The child has zero patience and whines the entire time I’m cooking.

“I’m hungry!”
“I’m soooo hungry!”
“Mommy, I can’t wait for dinner!”
“I can’t!”
“It’s taking too long!”

Oh, sheesh. Who can cook with all of the racket? I manage it sometimes, yes. Still, my kitchen endeavors have been severely curtailed over the past year or so.

Fortunately, this recipe is pretty darn easy. Unfortunately, Devin didn’t like it. But you can’t win ‘em all. It’s one of Scott’s favorites so the kid dined mostly on pears* and some dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets.

*Side story: I cut up some kiwi and put a slice on his plate. He’s quick to reject new foods these days, even though he ate kiwi frequently when he was a more adventurous toddler. Tonight he took one bite of it, upon request, and scrunched up his face in disgust. A few minutes later, though, while I was in the middle of recounting a story to Scott, he exclaimed, “Mommy, I ate the kiwi! And I LIKE it!” He was so happy with himself. Then quickly dismayed when he realized there was no more since we’d eaten the rest. He also told me that one of his dinos touched the chicken salad and, “Guess what? I’m going to eat it anyway!” Silly boy.

I bought these babies for a recipe that involved wrapping them around some chicken sausages. But I was craving garlic bread with tonight’s pasta and this was the closest thing I had. I’ve opened pandora’s box, though, because the boy was in love with them. “More bread, Mom!” I’m sure my future efforts will pale in comparison since he often appreciates packaged foods more than the home-cooked variety. They must put crack in that stuff. Only way to explain it!

*I’ve always loved the way the tube “pops” open.

We visited my mom in Kalamazoo on Friday. Devin had the brilliant idea that we “Go see Gramma when I wake up in the morning.” So, yeah. We did.

I miss K-zoo. I wanted out so badly when I was younger. All I could think about was Chicago, Chicago, Chicago. And I’m so very proud of myself for setting a big goal and going for it. It’s one of the biggest accomplishments of my life that I overcame my shyness and hounded Larry White weekly for my first lowly associate copywriting job. With just two weeks notice I secured an apartment and hightailed it to the big city.

Happy? Yes I was. I loved it. I felt like Mary Tyler Moore herself, conquering my fears and embracing all that was the big city. Practically dancing down the streets as I explored my neighborhood and trekked through all of the others.

Yet something truly nagged at me. I missed home. I had wanted to leave home, but hadn’t realized how much home really was, well…home.

Within a couple of years, Scott and I were talking about where we would live next. D.C., Boston, San Francisco, etc. And where did we end up? Just 45 minutes away from home.

And I still miss it!

OK. So let’s get to the coffee already, right?

I’m a big fan of going local. Especially when it comes to coffee. Starbucks is OK from time to time, but local shops are my faves. And I’ve been dying to try out Water Street Coffee Joint. I’ve seen their location in downtown K-zoo, but it was always as we were driving past or late at night when coffee is a definite no-no for me.

So as we were getting ready to drive to Grandma’s, I plotted a visit to the location just a few blocks from her house. Finally, a chance! And, boy, was it worth the wait! My mocha was darn good. Not to mention the homemade food in the case that had my mouth watering. Now I just have to nab a diner mug for my collection!

My only beef? The styrofoam cups.

These? They are good. Very good.

And simple. Very simple.

I ran to Grand River Grocery during my lunch hour on Thursday to grab a Michigan Turkey Sandwich (my favorite sandwich!) and they had these sitting on the counter for sampling. As a big fan of sampling, I took the bait. Boy, am I glad I did!

Take a cracker, a smudge of cream cheese, then top with a dollop Stonewall Kitchen’s Roasted Garlic Onion Jam.

Of course I had to procure a jar of the stuff for myself. I put a few of these together for a lunch appetizer yesterday, although the boy wasn’t interested at all. “Just a cracker, Momma.” Fine, more for me!

I’ve been doing a pretty good job of resisting sweets lately. Not a perfect effort, but a laudable one if you know me and my magnetic attraction to sugar.

Still, there’s one item that seems ever-present in my client’s office and that does me in every. single. time.

Costco cake.

I can walk by most any sweet concoction. I might hesitate. I might eyeball it. I might even lick my lips. But I’ll eventually keep walking because the extra calories just don’t seem worth it.

Today’s Costco cake? With creamy chocolate filling? A piece of it ended up on my desk. So there ya go.

Yes, I probably have. Because I love it. Very much. In fact, I just bought a huge log at Costco yesterday. To show my love for the creamy cheese.

The funny thing is that I’d never had it until I was 30. That’s true of a lot of foods, actually. I was slightly food-sheltered as a kid. My mom cooked the traditional stuff: goulash, pot roast and veggies, spaghetti, burgers and fries, mashed potatoes, soup. She cooked what she knew and we didn’t really venture beyond that. I was a picky eater as a kid, so that didn’t help her cause much either.

I seriously never ate Chinese food until I was 21. I went on a date with this guy and he was appalled that I’d never had hot ‘n sour soup. His jaw basically hit the table. (He agreed to a second date, though, so I couldn’t have been all bad.)

So just imagine my reaction when Scott, my then boyfriend, wanted to take me to an Ethiopian restaurant for my 27th birthday. I balked. I did agree to German, though, which was slight progress toward ethnic exploration.

Living in Chicago, a city bursting with exciting restaurants and culinary adventures, teamed with dating a guy who would eat anything, loosened me up a bit. I started trying things. And liking them. Thai food. Indian food. Mediterranean food. Greek food. And, yeah, Ethiopian food. I found something to like in every cuisine. Hummus! Kalamata olives! Feta cheese! Injera bread! Satay! Samosas!

I have no idea when or where the goat cheese came in, but I have vivid memories of a to-die-for goat cheese enchilada in Montpelier, Vermont.

It’s so funny to look back 20 years and see how far I’ve come in the food department. I even persuaded my mom to try hummus and she loves it. Although there’s a lot more she won’t try. And I’m OK with that. More goat cheese for me!

Frozen peanut butter pie.

Yum.

I’ve been cooking and baking again. I fell out of my kitchen groove for a while and it had me worried.