After multiple (2) days without tortillas in the house I broke down and made some with my recently ignored but still-magnificent
tortilla press. It helped that my brother was in town, since he's always up for a food project and is pretty handy around the kitchen. Look at this lovely plate he assembled:
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| Pretty colors! Toasted seeds! He is straight up gourmet, you guys. |
Technically we were trying to make
Zucchini and Red Pepper Enchiladas, but we substituted the cheese and halved the oil and used a grill pan and...decided not to bother rolling them into enchiladas. So, you're never going to believe this, but what we ended up making was...
piles. Happy ones, though.
Fancy ones. (Fancy Piles will be my upscale gastropub.)
I also made him braise some cabbage.
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| My culinary whims are mysterious indeed. |
Normally, dinnertime with Anna consists of her kicking her chair away from the table and repeatedly declaring "Want-need crackers! WANT-NEED CRACKERS!" (I'm giving her the linguistic benefit of the doubt with that hyphen, I'm actually pretty sure she thinks "want" and "need" are one compound demand.) She generally whimpers a lot. Sometimes she throws things. It's pretty great, all around.
BUT there seems to be a chance that she has inherited her mother's slavish devotion to observing holidays as thoroughly as possible, because being at her grandparents' house for Thanksgiving week has awakened her dormant eater.
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| "This is for the pilgrims." |
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| No strand left behind. |
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| Don't know why we never thought to set her to "Food: DESTROY" mode before now. |
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| Like a true American. |
