Momo (i.e. Nepali Dumplings)

Mmmmm....I want some mo' momo!  At least that is what my husband always says.  He's so punny!

I once spent a summer in San Francisco.  It was the summer after my freshman year of college.  And it was amazing!  I credit that summer with making me much of who I am today.  I spent a lot of time wandering the city and soul searching.  Spending most of my free time alone or with my 6 month old niece (who I was a nanny too).  I think I wrote lots of poetry sitting on the beach.  You know, being artsy and all that.

But you know what was the most life changing part of that summer?

Learning how to make momo!

My brother-in-law is from Nepal.  Much of the food we ate that summer was rice and dahl (lentils).  He also had an amazing ability to make the most delicious vegetable pasta dishes--I'm not sure where that come from.  But one day we went to some friends' house for momo.  I had no idea what a treat I was in for.

Rumbi Rice Bowls

The husband, the kid and I are visiting family in Utah for a little over a week.  One of the most difficult parts of visiting our home state is trying to squeeze in all the things we want to do into a short amount of time.  There are too many people to visit with, places to see, and (at least for me) food to be eaten.  Food is a very nostalgic thing for most people.  Tastes are strongly connected to memory.  

 The husband insists on visiting the Dairy Keen in Heber City every time we are in the area and scarfing down a train burger.  Me, I have a lot.  My first Utah food priority is chocolate covered cinnamon bears.  A-MAZ-ING!  Unfortunately the store we went to today was a big tease.  It had not one, but TWO empty bins where chocolate covered cinnamon bears should go.  I'm on a mission now.  My number two priority is soft serve frozen yogurt from the Maverick gas station chain.  Still waiting on that one too.  There are a number of restaurants found here that are not in the south.  Unfortunately we do not have the time (or the funds for that matter) to visit them all.  

Chicken Ashley

I discovered my love for cooking quite early in life.  One of my earliest memories is of my parents anniversary.  I proudly presented them with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich cake--my own creation.  In my mind it was a exquisite layer cake, expertly pieced together and decorated with swirls of peanut butter and grape jelly.  

But...as I was only 3 or 4 at the time, I'm guessing my memory might be tainted.  I can only imagine what a mess I left in the kitchen.

As a teenager I started making meals for my family once or twice a week.  I would browse the cookbooks in my moms arsenal and narrow it down to something that looked delicious.  I even experimented creating my own recipes.  Fortunately for my mother, at that age I was old enough to clean up after myself, and I like to think the outcomes were tastier.

Broccoli and Cauliflower Fritters

I really like cooking.  I would think that is pretty obvious by now. Putting aside all modesty, I'd say I'm pretty good at it.  But there is one aspect of cooking that I struggle with.  And that is timing all the components of a meal in such a way that they all arrive on the table, steaming hot, at roughly the same time.  

Seriously, it's a challenge.  4:00 p.m. rolls around and I stare at my mostly immaculately clean kitchen and I make a plan.  I calculate the cooking times of the pasta/rice/quinoa and how long the recipe says to saute the onions/peppers/meat.  My steaming chart says it takes some quantity of minutes to steam broccoli/carrots/insert-healthy-sounding-food-here.  With this data I should be able to figure out how to get everything done by five and all at the same time.  It is, after all, basic math.  I taught math, this shouldn't be hard.

Grilled Broccoli with Herbed Butter

It's hot in Alabama.  It's hot everywhere.  It's that time of year you just want to not move...at all...ever.

Our air conditioner must not be working at peak efficiency.  It regularly gets up to the mid 80's during the day with the A/C running non-stop (not looking forward to our utility bill--eek!)  The point is, I've placed a restriction on the use of the oven until things cool off.

Before moving to Alabama I didn't really worry about whether a meal was going to heat up the house.  These days, however, I put a lot of my meal planning energy into thinking about that very thing.  Unfortunately, that means no more roasted vegetables.  And that is a very sad thing.

Have no fear, the grill is here!

  

There is just one word I have for grilled broccoli and that word is...fan-tas-tic!