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Category: Recipes

Healthy-ish Pumpkin Muffins

My girls take a snack to school every day, and it’s turned into a struggle. If they had their druthers, they’d happily eat nothing but yogurt-in-a-tube or Swedish fish every day of their lives, but, unfortunately for them, they don’t have their druthers. They have mine. (And at this point I don’t even know what a druther is. But let’s carry on.) They’ll take fruit to school, but only if they don’t have to bite into it (“We don’t have time for all that!” they wail). They’ll ask for a bag of Doritos, and I just laugh and laugh (“But [insert classmate’s name here] [and here] [and here] always gets to pack Doritos! Why can’t we?” they weep). And then finally I give up and throw some pretzels at them and tell them if they don’t like it, they don’t have to eat it, but that’s a waste of food and sorry, no, I don’t think your teachers would really appreciate if I…

Jamaican Jerk Fish with Pineapple-Coconut Rice

Rachael Ray and her show 30-Minute Meals was my jumping-off point to learning how to cook: she just made it look so easy, especially for someone like me who would proudly make herself mac-n’-cheese out of a box, throw in some microwaved spinach, and call it a well-rounded meal (can you blame me? Carbs, protein and a vegetable, right? Wasn’t that supposed to be wholesome?). My dad tried to teach me how to cook when I was in high school, but that didn’t go so well, because a) I had a bit of a “Why are you teaching ME to cook and not my brother, huh? Is it because I’m a GIRL?” attitude we couldn’t quite move past, and b) my father and I didn’t exactly jive in teacher-student situations, partly because he really enjoyed giving direction and partly because I kind of despised being the one directed. I was a fun teenager. Once I got to college, I didn’t have to learn how to cook, because college came with such things as a cafeteria, Amore Pizza and ramen…

Chocolate Marshmallow Cookies

Last week we got about five inches of snow, and when my husband asked if I was going out with the kids when they went to play in it I…well, I laughed. Snow is lovely and pretty and peaceful, but only when I’m inside a warm house, with a book in my hand, looking at it. My kids were so disappointed when I didn’t put on thirty different layers and snow pants and impossible-to-tug-on boots after I wrestled them into theirs. On days like that they want me to be outside with them, sledding and building a snowman and having snowball fights and all of that ruddy-cheeked nonsense that people who enjoy frostbite like to do. See, here’s the thing: you have to not mind the cold to enjoy the snow. I don’t like to be cold. I think cold-enjoying is left to people who are either insane, or live in Wisconsin. So: inside I stay, where there are books to read and a fire to sit by and snacks that don’t require thawing out. I will make the requisite hot chocolate when…