Showing posts with label anniversary. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anniversary. Show all posts

Monday, November 1, 2010

Lucky Seven

For seven years, I’ve felt like the Luckiest Girl in the World.

That’s because I’ve got The Husband.

He is totally my best friend and the love of my life.

God. This sounds like a Hallmark card.

Fitting, since today is our wedding anniversary. And all of the greeting cards I’ve perused in the past week to mark the occasion have been totally lame.

This year’s anniversary is particularly awesome because our baby is due for arrival any day now. And we have waited for him for what seems like an eternity.

Well, just about four years.

It’s funny how life works out sometimes. Back when Mark and I were engaged, we attended pre-Cana classes, as required by the Catholic church. During our classes we each confirmed that we wanted two children – preferably a boy and a girl. We decided we would have our first three years into the marriage. No. 2 would come a couple years later.

It’s safe to say that the plan was an epic fail. And despite our many years of crazy happiness and good times, our inability to have a baby brought us much stress and tears and worry and woe. But, we did learn that sometimes matters of life and love don’t work out based on a planned timetable.

No doubt, The Husband is going to make an amazing Daddy.

How do I know?

It’s evident each night when he talks to my belly and the biggest smile ever lights up his face. Or, when he practices his storybook reading skills while the bambino kicks me and I just laugh. Or when we patiently put together baby gear and install car seats whose instructions were written by crazy people. (No offense, if you write baby equipment manuals.) The signs of Awesome Daddy in Training are all over his face during my doctor’s appointments or when I’m folding freshly washed baby clothes or when he's planning for Junior's future finances.

And then there are those moments when I wake up in the middle of the night obsessing about having a happy and healthy baby. I toss and turn, then pace the house, peruse the Internets or play solitaire or clean a room or organize a pile of clutter. Inevitably, I will eat a bowl of cereal. Three hours later in an attempt to find sleep again, my jostling around sometimes will wake The Husband and he’ll hug me and say, “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be OK.”

And with that, I can rest soundly.

I hope our baby inherits many of his Dad’s qualities: Gorgeous smile, charm, good humor, passion for life, patience, determination. Because, for reals, The Husband rocks.

And I really am the Luckiest Girl in the World. Happy anniversary, Baby Doll! You know I love you.

Today, I’m sharing with all of you one of The Husband’s hands down favorites: Gnocchi. I go by the Giada De Laurentiis recipe, but I do mix the dough with my Kitchenaid handmixer, rather than a fork as the recipe calls for.

I made gnocchi for The Husband a couple weeks ago. They were fab. Making homemade pasta is fun, and I envision my little boy helping me do this one day. Maybe they will be his fav, too.

I served the gnocchi with my Mean Marinara. For the recipe, please see below.

Gnocchi

From “Everyday Pasta”
By Giada De Laaurentiis
Makes about 54 gnocchi

2 baking potatoes, such as russet (about 12 ounces each)
1 egg, lightly beaten
1 tsp. salt
½ tsp. freshly ground black pepper
¾ cup all-purpose flour

Pierce the potatoes all over with a fork. Microwave the potatoes on high until tender, about 12 minutes. (You can also bake the potatoes at 375 degrees Fahrenheit for 50 minutes, or until tender. While the potatoes are still warm, cut them in half and scoop the flesh into a large bowl. Discard the skin. Using a fork, mash the potato well. Stir in the egg, salt and pepper. Sift the flour over the potato mixture and stir just until blended.

Scoop out a large spoonful of gnocchi dough.



Roll each scoop on the work surface into about a ½-inch-diameter rope.



Cut the dough into 1-inch pieces. Roll each piece of dough over a wooden paddle with ridges or over the tines or a fork to form grooves in the dough. Set the formed gnocchi on a baking sheet while you form the rest of the dough.

Working in two batches, cook the gnocchi in a large pot of boiling salted water until they have all risen to the surface, about 3 minutes. Scoop the gnocchi into a colander with a slotted spoon while you cook the second batch.




Serve gnocchi with your favorite sauce, warmed and top with grated cheese.

Please note: The Jersey Girl makes her dough using a KitchenAid handmixer, instead of a fork and spoon. The mixer leads to a smoother dough.  When rolling out the dough, lightly flour your surface so that the dough is easier to handle.

Mean Marinara


2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 small onion or half a medium/large onion, finely chopped
8 (yes 8) cloves of garlic, finely chopped
¾ tsp. red pepper flakes (you can cut back this)
1 can Cento pureed tomatoes (28. oz)
1 can Cento crushed tomatoes (28 oz.)
A little bit of water – probably half a cup
20 fresh basil leaves
Salt and pepper to taste

In a large pot, heat the olive oil over medium-low heat. Add the garlic and onion. Sweat the garlic and onion for five minutes. They should be very fragrant.

Push the garlic and onion to one side of the pan and toast the red pepper flakes for a minute. Mix into the garlic and onion.

Add the pureed and crushed tomatoes. Use a little bit of water to rinse off the tomato on the sides of the cans and pour into pot. (We Italians don’t like to waste food!) The water should measure to a half cup.

Add salt and pepper to taste. I did 20 grinds of my pepper mill and a scant 1/4 tsp. salt.

Snip basil leaves into pot with cooking shears.

Turn your heat down to low. Simmer partially covered for 45 minutes. Make sure you stir every 5 to 10 minutes.

Enjoy now or tomorrow or freeze for later on in your life.

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Happy Anniversary, Mark!


Pop the bubbly. Today is Mark and Susan's sixth anniversary.


OMG. Today is MAJOR.

November 1, 2009, marks our sixth anniversary of wedded bliss.

Yes, six years ago today my beloved and I said our vows that we would be one for now and always through the good times and the bad. (Translation: Phillies’ wins and Phillies’ losses.)

I’m just shocked that Mark agreed to our wedding date considering it’s always right smack in the middle of post season. Of course, six years ago the Phillies were lucky if they entered September over .500. So, I guess I was a fool.

A fool for love.

Because, now dear readers, my wedding anniversary revolves around baseball games and baseball tickets and baseball parades and baseball commentary and baseball TV programs and baseball scheduling and baseball rain delays.

How the hell did I end up here?

Anyway, my insomniac self tossed and turned last night, unable to adjust to Daylight Savings and worrying that my angered and soaking wet Phillie Phanatic husband was driving like a maniac in the pouring rain at 2:30 in the morning on the way home from a dismal World Series Game 3 in which Cole Hamels was a disaster and the Phillies’ bats went silent. Not to mention it’s Halloween night when drunken fools are most definitely out on the roads and what if the Yankees fans take him hostage or what if there are riots over Cole Hamels being so diva….or, God maybe I should write fiction. So, as these thoughts are going on, I get to thinking happier thoughts such as our many years together and my many cooking mishaps.

My cooking dilemmas always make me laugh. Mark’s reaction to my culinary tomfoolery really makes me laugh.

Don’t worry, my successes greatly outnumber the flops. Natch.

Mark and I met more than 10 years ago.

Straight out of college, I finally got my first “real” newspaper job at The Daily Journal in Vineland as a copy editor. I was pretty much in charge of the obits for two months. Glamorous, I know.

Around that time, Mark was hired as a reporter. His beat was the Board of Education. Again, more glamour and intrigue.

Mark decided to take a chance on a spazzy girl from Hammonton who wears a ton of jewelry, obsesses about crazy shoes, chews a lot of gum, plays a ton of Chopin and maybe curses and laughs way too much. His polo and loafer wearing, soft-spoken calm Clark Kent self just couldn’t get on without me. So, he asked me on a date.

When he came to the door, my mom told me I would marry him. My mom has majorly psychic abilities.

After three first dates over the span of two years (Look, I was a head case, drama queen, stupid 20-something), Mark totally popped the question.

During our days of courtship, I took matters into my own hands and realized I needed to woo my future husband-to-be with amazing feats of the culinary kind because as Poppop Sacco always advised me: “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” My Poppop and Mommom have been married for 66 years, so I guess he knows what he’s talking about.

I bestowed upon him – and the rest of the newsroom hangers-on – a bundle of cakes, cookies, pepperoni bread and other baked goods.

In no time, Mark was entranced by my cookery, wit and bewitching good looks.

I’m kidding.

Of course with the hits have come plenty of misses – before and after the vows.

I’m sure my loving husband has tried to forget the shrimp scampi – with the shrimp shells still on.

Or, my strawberry pie that was more like a soup.

Or, the pork roast that resembled abstract road kill. (As if I knew that you cut the cooking twine AFTER you cook the roast.)

And then there is the shrimp and fennel incident of 2004. Thinking I would WOW the hubs with a fabulous Lidia Bastianich recipe, I ended up completely clogging the garbage disposal since I had to throw out an entire pound of uneaten pasta that my husband still will not admit that he hated five years after the fact. That was an AWESOME night.

He’s sensitive that husband. He doesn’t want to wound my soul.

Of course my motto in all of life – especially with music and cooking – is that we learn from our mistakes.

So, I have no worries about my kitchen mishaps. I just jump up and try again.

And I’m truly appreciative of the nights I get to hang with Mark and we have dinner together. It’s just the best. There’s no other place I want to be. And usually when we’re there in the moment, I’ll say to my husband, “OMG. I don’t want it to be over.”

And he’ll say, “Would you just relax, doll. You’re going to wish it away.”

I say these words whether we’re at some fancy pants restaurant in Philadelphia or a bistro in Paris or right in my little, six-year-old kitchen. And I know he’s right so I try to just chill.

It’s silly, isn’t it? Of all the amazing things we do together, one of my favorites is just sharing the food I make for Mark and the wine that he picks out. Because he’s the sommelier of this relationship. I'm clearly the brains and the beauty.

Again, kidding.

For reals, the only way I know how to show Mark how much I love him more than anything in the entire universe is with my food and my words and my kisses.

And ironing his damn shirts.

So happy anniversary, Mark!!! Please come home soon so that we can eat dinner and watch the Phillies!

Smooches and much love,

Susan