Corned beef and cabbage

St. Patrick's Day has always been an excuse for us to get together with friends and family, drink beer, and enjoy corned beef and cabbage.

I've done it a few different ways, including cooking it in beer (which made my diabetic-teetotaler father's blood sugar go unexpectedly CRAZY, oops), in the oven, and in the crockpot. My favorite way, BY FAR, is my newest discovery- to do it in my electric pressure cooker.

If I was going to do an ad for electric pressure cookers, it would go like this:

"Do you cook for your family, but have poor planning skills? Do you forget to pull meat out of the freezer until it's an hour before dinner? Do you WISH you could get that same effect from the crock pot WITHOUT having to add to your already stressful morning routine? 

Well, look no more! An Electric Pressure cooker is the thing for you!"

Below is Cook's Country (free) recipe for Corned Beef and Cabbage. (original recipe pulled from here, but reposted with my electric pressure cooker changes so I don't forget how I did it in the future).

A Pin-able image, for you

Corned Beef and Cabbage

• 1 (4- to 5-pound) corned beef brisket roast, with all the juices and "extras"
• 4 cups low-sodium chicken broth
• 4 cups water
• 12 carrots, peeled (3 chopped, 9 halved crosswise)
• 2 celery ribs, chopped
• 1 onion, peeled and quartered
• 3 bay leaves
• 1 tablespoon whole black peppercorns
• 1 tablespoon minced fresh thyme
• 1 teaspoon whole allspice
• 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 3 pounds small red potatoes
• 1 head green cabbage (2 pounds), cut into 8 (2-inch) wedges
• Pepper

Instructions

1. Combine beef, broth, water, chopped carrots, celery, onion, bay leaves, peppercorns, thyme, and allspice in Electric Pressure Cooker.  Cook for 96 min on high pressure (24 mins for every pound), 10 minute natural pressure release, then quick release. The fork should slip easily in and out of the meat. (And flake off the edges, for quality control and tasting purposes, of course.)

2. Transfer meat to 13 by 9-inch baking dish. Strain cooking liquid through fine-mesh strainer into large bowl, feed the solids to the hoardes that smelled the delicious steam during the depressurization. (KidBrotherSam and Genevieve made short work of this; Andrew had to move fast to get some.) Pour 1 cup cooking liquid over meat. Cover dish tightly with aluminum foil and let rest for 30 minutes. (Defend from "tasters" and "quality control specialists" with a long-handled wooden spoon and a matronly voice.)

3. Meanwhile, return remaining cooking liquid to Dutch oven, add butter, and bring to simmer over medium-high heat. Add potatoes and simmer until they begin to soften, about 10 minutes. Add carrot halves and cabbage, cover, and cook until tender, 10 to 15 minutes. Transfer vegetables to serving platter and season with pepper to taste. (Reserve cooking liquid for making gravy)

4. Transfer beef to carving board and slice against grain into 1/4-inch-thick slices. Serve with vegetables.

Bon appétit!

En garde... UNAGI!

Sometimes, I get to be The Fun Mom. (For the sake of clarity, let's call her Rosie.)

Rosie is the one who thinks up great ideas like taking a Costco sized bag of toilet paper to the preschool and letting the kids toilet paper everything they can get their hands on. Rosie is the brainchild behind Sparkle Magic.

Now, don't confuse her with Fiona, because Fiona likes to have fun, but tidy, organized, Pinterest-worthy fun. 

Where Fiona is a photogenic poster child, Rosie is an eyes-crossed-tongue-out kind of gal. Rosie is the unbridled, belly laugh kind of fun. 

So when we went to the drugstore for the necessary stuff, and came across foam swords, it was no real surprise that Rosie piped up. 

"FOAM SWORDS!" Rosie was ecstatic, "Can you believe it?! These are awesome!"

"These are a terrible idea. Someone is going to get hurt. Things are going to get broken," I countered. 

"They're FOAM. Come on, live a little," she encouraged. "It'll be FUN."

I gave in, and two swords became ours.

Genevieve couldn't WAIT to play with them, so we each took turns.  We had just watched the first half (roughly) of The Princess Bride (turning it off after - SPOILER ALERT - Wesley gets killed in the dungeon, because that part scared Genevieve.) so naturally, Genevieve was Buttercup.

I played the Man in Black, using all of my swordfighting skills- all obtained from watching the aforementioned Princess Bride. I don't quite know which character Andrew was, but my mother - in her purest form - observed classic swordfighting etiquette.

"UNAGI!"

From the hallway (the best place in our house for a duel, really), I heard my mother declare, "En garde!"

Then a pause.

"UNAGI!" Genevieve yelled, running towards Mom, wielding her sword like an axe.

Now, there was no question as to what she yelled, because it was as clear as a bell. Once I picked myself up off of the floor (and stopped laughing like a demented hyena), Andrew turned to me and simply asked, "Unagi?"

Well.

You know the bit with the shrieking eels? Genevieve likes to do big body play after naptime with me, and the day after watching The Princess Bride, she wanted to play "shrieking eels".

She, predictably, was the shrieking eel, leaving me to play the role of Buttercup.

I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not exactly the "damsel in distress" type. So, I turned the game on it's head - a bit - and said, "Eel? I love eating eel... as UNAGI!" and then wrestled, and nibbled on the eel- who then shrieked with good reason.

(Now we take turns being Buttercup, shrieking "UNAGI!" and nibbling on each other, for the record.)

Since only two of us can play at a time, I have been researching getting more foam weaponry (specifically these, though they're shorter than the swords) because you know the saying.

"The family that mêlées together, stays together."

A little negotiation

Genevieve has started negotiating. I know it's an important part of her development, and a big part of growing her own sense of agency.

She's also four years old, which makes these negotiations more than a little entertaining.

For example, today:

Genevieve: I would like a television in my room.

Me: You can have one when you're 20.

Genevieve: How about when I'm 80?

Me: OK. I will put it on the list for your 80th birthday.

Genevieve: I would also like a remote control, and I would like you to make me a Cinderella dress, glass shoes, and a crown.

Me: I will put all of those on your 80th birthday list.

**Her ACTUAL fourth birthday cake, which is a story all in itself.

... And maybe a princess cake, too. 

The Sound of silence

Today, for 20 blissful minutes, I drank a hot cup of coffee, I knit on my cashmere cowl, I ate Swiss chocolate, and I watched Outlander. All by myself.

It was bliss. 

Something great

There are a lot of hard days. Competition for attention. Sibling rivalry.

But then, there's also this.

We bedshare, and when I get out of bed, I come back, and they're drawn together like magnets. Holding hands, snuggling.

I think we're going to be okay.

Sparkle magic

Genevieve told me not too long ago that she wished she had "sparkle magic". When I asked her what that meant, she said, "Like Elsa's magic, but with SPARKLES."

Of course.

So, I thought about wishes. Some wishes, I can't do anything about.

But sparkles? I can do. By the power of Amazon Prime, I bought one pound of "Elsa" glitter with the tap of my - also magical - fingertips.

They made cascarones at preschool today, and Genevieve loved it. (I can see your surprised faces.) The best part - Genevieve told me - was cracking them over their heads.

"Because THEN you have CONFETTI in your HAIR!" she told me, holding an uncracked cascarone so carefully that you would think it would crumble in her hand.

After naptime, she declared that It Was Time, so we went into the backyard, and she showed me the joy of cascarones.

After her brief - and glorious - presentation, I told her that I remembered when she told me that she wished she had sparkle magic,

"I wish you did, too," I said. "I can't give you magic powers. But I CAN give you THIS."

And I handed her a one pound jar of glitter, and let 'er rip.

I'm going to chalk this one up to a parenting win.

Oh, Pumpkin

In my imagination, I'm a Pinterest Mom. I have these ideas about how a project or outing is going to go...

... And then I start the project or go on the outing with my kids. And like I've said many a'time, there's nothing that ruins ideal parenting like having actual children.

Over the last year or so, I've embraced the chaos of actual parenting (more or less), and I'm doing my best to find the joy in all of it. 

...But then I hear the Pinterest Mom's voice in my head. We'll call her Fiona, and she's as real as Verne (the grumpy old man who lives in my head). Fiona also blogs more regularly than, well, Yours Truly.

"You know what would be beautiful," she says into my ear, sipping a chilled glass of Sauvignon Blanc out of a Villeroy & Bach crystal wineglass, "Family photos in the school pumpkin patch. You can get everyone to dress in a color theme. You have a remote shutter for your camera, so you can be in the pictures, too!"

"Ooooh," I say, drinking some (perfectly respectable) boxed Chardonnay out of a Ball jar with ice cubes in it, "Fiona, you are a genius."

So the night before, here's how Fiona's night went:

Fiona: Genevieve, here's your Halloween tutu, matching tights, and a Halloween shirt. 

Genevieve: Okay, Mommy! You're the best!

Here's how it actually went:

Me: Please pick a Halloween shirt and tights. And here's your Halloween tutu. 

Genevieve: I'm going to wear this skirt and these pants. 

Me: But we're going to take pictures. 

Genevieve: It's my choice. 

[Lesson learned: If I want to get a certain look, I will pick the clothes and inform her that it's a day where her clothes aren't her choice.]

And, not to wax too philosophical, but do I want our pictures to look perfect, or reflect what our lives actually look like? (The answer is both.)

I did put on makeup, and Genevieve and I added glitter on our eyes and cheeks (because it's fun), and eventually, the family went to the pumpkin patch at Genevieve's school. 

Her school is super fun, and it's a safe place to get messy. And the pumpkin patch has a couple of tables of crafts, play dough, and a DIY face paint station.

(There's a table to have it done as well, but if you're Genevieve, either way is just as fun.)

So within mere minutes of our arrived, Genevieve  went from this:

... To this:

(I positively adore the mustache.)

Rex, at a kingly ten weeks old (I told you that Fiona blogs more frequently than I do), was extremely cooperative and wore the ADORABLE pumpkin hat cheerfully while he slept. (The hat was actually a baby shower gift from Genevieve's baby shower. Not knit by me, sadly.)

The lighting was excellent, the pumpkins plentiful, and Genevieve was cheerfully playing with a classmate, so I took some pictures. 

(I also relinquished control of the camera to Andrew so that there were a few pictures of me as well. I may be a control freak, but I'm learning.)

Genevieve played, I chatted, and Andrew compared our little pumpkin to other little pumpkins.

I did *try* to get the family all in one place at the same time, but alas, it was my family that came along to the pumpkin patch, and not Fiona's, so you'll just have to imagine my beautiful family in the pictures with me.

Notice that we have a COLOR THEME!

My handsome guys

Maybe one day, Fiona's ideas will work for me again. But, until then, I'll be here with a stylish splotch of spitup on my shoulder.

And Genevieve will be in her "mooo-stache."