Spice-Rubbed Pork Chops

For the longest time in Casa de Steele, the main course options were rather limited. You see, my dear hubby grew up in the Land O'Lakes, where there is plenty of trout but not much in the way of seafood (or oceans, for that matter).

And thus, our beloved protagonist was prohibited from cooking "anything that swam in the ocean, oh, and also, I don't like ham."

So what are we left with? That's right folks, chicken and beef. Or beef and chicken. Or beef. Or chicken. Or spaghetti-O's. Or Kraft Blue Box. You get the picture...

Well, I am pleased to inform you all that in the past year or so, after a few too many episodes of Man v. Food and Anthony Bourdain, our picky eater has decided to be a bit more adventurous. We aren't talking mussles or squid or anything.



Just pork chops.

(Oh, and could you omit the "tree branch stuff" next time? It "tastes like Christmas trees." It was rosemary. It has been officially omitted from the spice rub for next time.)



Since making these over the stove earlier in the year, we've since made them on the grill, and they are stupendously awesome when grilled. I believe I grilled them over foil to keep the juices from dripping down into the flames too much. Flare-ups are scary, and I prefer my eyebrows un-singed.



The best part about this recipe? I guarantee you have all the ingredients in your pantry right now. Add some frozen veggies and rice, and you've got dinner in no time at all.



(In a typical twist of Steven-irony, we will now eat pork chops and bacon, but we do not like ham, either honeybaked or deli-sliced. I am still slightly baffled by this.)



Spice-Rubbed Pork Chops: adapted from The Kitchn (sans "trees," or rosemary, of course)
4 pork chops, bone-in or boneless
1 tbsp brown sugar
1 1/2 tsp kosher salt
1 tsp black pepper
1/4 tsp cumin

Mix spice rub ingredients together in a small bowl and generously coat chops on both sides. Place on aluminum foil covered grill grates and grill 4-5 minutes per side, or until done to your liking. Whip up some sides, call it a meal. Ponder how someone could like bacon and pork chops but not ham. But don't think too hard about it -- its sort of like the chicken-and-egg question -- there's no real answer.

Brace Yourselves

About two and a half years ago, Steven decided he wanted to get braces.



Throughout the process, he went through a great deal of pain (including having 5 (five!) teeth pulled) and a great many tiny little orthodontic rubber bands (which he would leave around the house in convenient places such as: The Fireplace Mantel! The Kitchen Counter! Way Too Close To My Toothbrush!).



And today, I am pleased to announce to the world that our days of orthodonty are over! (At least, until we have teenage kids, that is...)

Doesn't he look great? Go Steven!



And, to give the full effect, here are the before and after pictures the orthodontist took: (before is on the left, after is on the right)


Clearly we must have started the running after he got the braces on -- he got straighter teeth and dropped 20 lbs. I am quite jealous.



In true Steven form, he got home, looked in the mirror and said, "Ok. Straight teeth. What should I do next?"

Ever ambitious, that Steven Steele.



Congratulations, dear, on your No-More-Braces-Day. I am very proud of you. (P.S., you'd better not lose that retainer, or its coming out of your allowance.)

Zucchini Summer Soup

Hello folks. Carlie here.

(Because I know everyone likes to have an update on our little old miss, Carlie would like to report that she is feeling much better now that she is on a regular schedule of arthritis medicine. She's not limping anymore (despite her torn ACL - we call it her "sports injury"), and she seems to be a happy little camper. Man, I love that little dog.

And now on to the food.)

In anticipation of cooking more dishes in The Big Red Pot, I was googling around for some summer soup dishes and found this one, which looked just about perfect. (And since I've unabashedly taken remarkably similar pictures, I ought to give credit where credit is due. Its a lovely recipe from an even lovelier new-to-me blog.)

So, Zucchini Summer Soup it was. Luckily, I only needed to buy zucchini and carrots -- the rest of the ingredients were languishing in the bottom of my vegetable drawer in the fridge.


"Hurry, make us into soup, quick!"

I have learned a valuable lesson when making a dish for the first time, especially if its something like a big batch of soup. That lesson? Feed your husband first. I decided to try to make this on a weeknight, so we first went out and got Five Guys for Steven.

Back at the house by 8 PM, I set to work, chopping and dicing, happy as a clam.



I added Baby Bella mushrooms and one Roma tomato to the recipe, just because they were within grabbing-and-chopping distance. I adore how colorful this is.



After enough of my admiring the raw vegetables . . .



I finally made some soup. Here she is, just starting to simmer.



I left out the cayenne pepper and the chilies (mostly because I am a wuss), so we can't really classify this as a "spicy" summer soup. Its really more of a peppery minestrone.



And what is vegetable soup without some French bread for dipping?



I've made these loaves several times in the past few days. They are from the Artisan Bread in Five Minutes book, and they are just delightfully perfect. Light and airy crust but still nice and chewy in the center.



Given the shape, I bet they would make a fantastic savory biscotti, too, now that I think about it.



How's our soup doing? Oh yes, reduced down and ready for the pearl couscous.



For my birthday, Mom gave me a rotary cheese grater. I have put it to good use, as you can see.



A little parmesan on top, some bread stacked on the side....



Dinnertime! (And it was only 10 PM! Fancy that!) I suffer for my soup.



Zucchini Summer Soup: (Adapted from: Sideoats and Scribbles)
Ingredients:
- 1 tablespoon olive oil
- 3 zucchini, diced
- 3 carrots, peeled and diced
- 1 small onion, chopped
- 2 cloves of garlic, minced
- 6-8 Baby Bella mushrooms, sliced thin (optional)
- 1 Roma tomato, chopped (optional)
- 28 oz can of crushed tomatoes
- 1 cup of chicken broth
- 3 cups of water
- 1 tablespoon dried basil
- 1 teaspoon dried oregano
- 1 teaspoon dried thyme
(Sidenote: I really should have used fresh herbs from the garden. In a moment of laziness, I did not. Also, it was dark outside and I didnt feel like stumbling around the porch in the pitch blackness with my garden shears.)
- 1 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/2 teaspoon salt (if desired)
- 1/2 cup of Israeli (pearl) couscous

Place chopped zucchini, carrots, onion, garlic, mushrooms, and tomato in heavy stock pot. Saute with olive oil for 5-7 minutes, or until vegetables begin to get tender. Add water, chicken broth, crushed tomatoes, and all the spices (except for the salt). Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer, covered, for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. Once the soup has reduced, add dry pearl couscous and simmer for another 10 minutes. Stir in salt (if desired) and serve with parmesan cheese sprinkled on top.

I made a huge batch, ate soup three times that week for lunch, then froze the rest. I figure come October or so, I'm going to wish I remembered what summer tasted like, and this will be a good defrosted reminder.

Almost Ready...

The tomato garden is full of almost ready tomatoes.



Little baby ones, just sprung from their yellow flowers...



And big plump green ones, as big as both of my hands put together.




One of them has even started turning a yellowy-pink color. But they aren't quite ready yet. They need a little more time. (And I'm so impatient!)



This is the first time I've planted heirloom tomatoes; these are Pink Brandywines. I can't wait to slice them up into caprese salads. Maybe in a couple of weeks?

Steven Says I Forgot To Show You The Dining Room Table

So here it is!



We bought it from Klaussner Homes (who, by the way, promised to come out and fix a scratch in the table -- I really ought to call them about that). The entire set was only $900, which is beyond fabulous for a table and six chairs (in my humble opinion).



We've owned it for about a month and have already hosted two dinners. This was what I dreamed of during all those years in a one-bedroom-no-space-for-a-table-much-less-a-dinner-party apartments. (Although, come to think of it, my friend Tracy manages to host dinner parties in her one-bedroom-apartment, so clearly it can be done. Just not by me.) ;)



Happy dining, and if you're nearby, stop by for dinner sometime!

Spoiled Rotten.

Steven is a gift-giver. He is absolutely excellent at selecting the perfect gift. Sometimes this is an infuriating skill for him to have, because he always manages to outdo anything I give him. I just don't have the knack for it the way he does. He's very observant, so when I go into a store and slowly peruse my favorite items, he notices. And he logs it somewhere in his mind. And then, when the next birthday/anniversary/Christmas comes around, he goes out and gets that item. And he manages to stun me. Every. Single. Time.

So, of course, our anniversary was no exception. I hadn't expected anything (and, correspondingly, I hadn't GOTTEN him anything). So when I walked in the door from work on Friday, I gasped when I saw this:



I opened the top box, and in it was a beautiful oven mitt and potholder set. Steven had said before I opened the first box that the two items were "related," so I instantly thought there might be an apron or something in the second box. "Yay!" I thought to myself, "I can always use another apron."

And then. Then I tore open the wrapping to find something truly, truly awesome.



That's right, ladies and gents. Five-and-a-half quarts of absolute (enameled cast iron) perfection.



I stood there in total and complete awe for a few seconds, and then lifted it reverently out of its orange box and placed it solemnly on the stove (and it has remained in that prominent place since that very moment). And then I hugged Steven real tight and had a happy little weepy moment right there in my kitchen, still in my work clothes. (I think it is secretly his goal to pick presents that will make me break out in happy tears. In his defense, its not all that hard to do -- I'm sort of crazy for kitchen appliances like that. I all-out sobbed at the KitchenAid mixer he got me for Christmas a few years ago...)



Le Creuset. Can you believe it? That boy spoils me so. I couldn't wait to use it, so I made chicken scallopine on Sunday night for some friends who visited. And I have big plans for this week, including some No Knead Bread, but first this Summer Soup, for which I bought ingredients tonight!

Much delicious (slow braised and totally awesome) cooking will commence around these here parts soon!

PS - Everyone send good wishes to Jaimy as she takes the Virginia Bar Exam tomorrow and Wednesday. I remember it like it was yesterday. Go Jaimy Go! You can do it!

Letters from Half-A-Decade Ago

Today is our five-year wedding anniversary. Five years. Whew. Doesn't feel like its been that long. (Although we are watching Independence Day on TV right now -- you know, the one where Will Smith punches the alien and says, endearingly, "Welcome to ERF!"), and I feel like it was in theaters pretty recently.

Wasn't it?

Time is relative, I suppose. :)



At our rehearsal dinner on June 23, 2004, after everyone had finished their meal, Steven's mom handed out stationery and pens, and instructed everyone to write a letter to us that we would open on our five-year anniversary.



It was 2004. I'd just been accepted to law school. It was the day before our wedding. We didn't have an apartment rented in Arlington yet. I'd never stepped foot inside the law school. The whole world was ahead of us, and we were equal parts thrilled and terrified.



And now, five years have passed. We've done more than I could have imagined -- we found an apartment, then another and another. I made it through my first law school class, then the second one, then the first year, the second year, the third year. Then graduation. I took a bar exam. For all the flashcards he dealt with, Steven practically took it, too. Then I took another one.

Steven landed a great job, then an even better one, then an even better one. We bought cars, traded them in, bought different ones.

And then we bought a house.



I could not, in my wildest dreams, have imagined on July 23, 2004, that we'd be right here, right now. I told Steven tonight at dinner that I wish the 2009 me had been able to talk to the 2004 me. I would have told her to quit worrying so much about the future. I would have told her that things will usually work out for the best.

And then I realized that my 2014 self would probably say the same things to me, now.

Funny how we don't really change that much over time. Same concerns, different backdrop. So I suppose I'll try to spend the next five years trying to worry less about "how will [insert Heather's Worry-O-the-Day] possibly work out?" Because it always does work out somehow. It always does.

We opened the rehearsal dinner letters the moment they came in the mail. We couldn't wait to see what people had written to us five years ago. And just seeing all of that familar handwriting was enough to bring us both to tears. It was precious, wonderful stuff. We read each letter, laughed, cried, and spent a goodly little while just pondering how much these last five years have encompassed.

After we finished reading all the letters, we folded them up carefully and stowed them in a special place. We might get them out and read them again from time to time, just to remember what it felt like to be ourselves in 2004, with the big scary world stretching before us. It felt great to remember all the love and support of all our family and friends, then and now.

And just so you can be a part of our little happy moment, here are a few of the letters, written to us five years ago yesterday:

Winner of the "Most Accurate Prediction": Josh Mulvihill (Steven's sister's husband)


"I predict 0 children by 2009, not by infertility but by choice." How did he KNOW?

Winner of the Making-Social-Plans-Five-Years-In-Advance: Jenny Mulvihill

"When you read this, give me a call and we'll make plans!" Always making plans- that's our Jenny!


Winner(s) of the "made us teary-eyed" prize: All of the letters from our parents. Something about opening a letter and seeing your parent's handwriting is just so very touching.

June Huff:

The bit about "when I found out I was expecting" brought the waterworks right on. :)

Debbie Steele:

I love this one because I can "hear" her saying these things to us. :)

David Huff:

Nice one with the AARP joke, Pops!

Daniel Steele:

We especially appreciate that Steven's dad identified himself by his ham radio operator call sign. :)

Most Excited Letter-Writer: A thirteen-year-old Chris Huff, dreaming of being voting age.


The front of the letter said, "Don't open this till I'm 18!!!" Haha.

There is something really precious about a letter from your sibling. It makes me want to go sit down and write a million letters to all my loved ones.

Jon Huff:


Matt Huff:


Thank you again, Mom Steele, for such a fantastically thoughtful idea. We were really blessed and encouraged by the letters, and I might go read them again, right now, they were that fun.

Thank you to everyone who was involved in our wedding and wrote us letters -- I've posted most of them on Facebook for posterity, so you can go see the rest there. We love you all and appreciate having you in our lives.

Now! Onward to the next five years! (Hurry, everyone got get a pen and paper and write me something to open in 2014. This is too fun to stop doing now!)