With quiver loaded, Cupid is taking careful aim, but don’t let the barrage of blush-shaded marketing prompts caress you into breaking your heart-shaped budget. Valentine’s Day has, like so many holidays, evolved into a manufactured excuse to consume more stuff in greater quantities. We are encouraged by smiling, hugging and kissing couples to purchase jewelry, flowers, candies and all manner of amorous enticement. It is suggested that we solidify and reaffirm our affections by opening our wallets, yet I maintain that an expression of love need not come with a price-tag attached.
If your sweetheart requires an emailed reminder from FTD to say “I love you” and that sentiment is shared only once a year, your relationship is no bouquet of roses. The real currency of love is sincerity, shared not on single, date-book occasions but always, and mostly without sparkling accoutrement. True expressions of devotion are rarely found on racks of greeting cards. Affection is displayed in showy flourishes, but love distinguishes itself steadily, in all seasons.
I’m not totally frowning on gifts—if you’re feeling flush, by all means, share the wealth. But you don’t have to buy-buy-buy just because a cut-out Cupid offers alluring promises at 20% off. No perfume, trinket or charm can adequately prove love (though many jewelers will swear a diamond comes close). If you want to impress your feelings upon someone special, carefully consider what they might actually need before bringing out the bankcard. Caring means providing what your significant other really wants without them ever requesting it. Most importantly, remember that your sentiments are more sincere when accompanied by acts of kindness.
Of course, Lunchsense suggests…lunch. Perhaps a Chicken Caesar Salad, wedge of French bread, orange slices and chocolate truffle. Make it any day, include a sweet note and you’re positively proving how much someone is loved.
Some days I just can’t do much.
‘Worked all weekend at the Good Earth Show (it was wonderful!) but I’m still trying to get my energy back.
Could it be that my achy, snuffly, feverish daughter has passed her bug over to me? ‘Hope not…time will tell. In the meantime, I need to power down, take it easy, recoup for a few days. But I’ve got the van to unload, inventory to check in, receipts to tally…and a turkey carcass in my fridge to deal with.
The turkey will be the easy part. While I tackle the rest of the post-show chores, I’ll make stock.
If you haven’t tried it before, I’d like to nudge you – gently – to try making your own stock. Really, it’s about as difficult as sorting, washing, drying and folding a load of laundry – you’ve pulled that off a few times, yes? – and the results are so very worth it. It’s the gastronomic equivalent of throwing a blanket over your shoulders, and given the season and our precarious health conditions this week it’s exactly what we all need.
You may ask, “what are you doing with a turkey in the fridge in January?” A fair question. Turkey is a cheap, healthy protein source, and if you have a large enough freezer I highly recommend buying a couple turkeys in November and cooking them up over the winter.
When you cook a turkey, toss the parts that you might not use – neck and giblets – in a container, and freeze them. When you have finished enjoying all the cooked parts of the bird, throw all the remaining stuff – bones, skin, whatever – in the container as well. NOTE WELL that you have raw and cooked pieces in this container. They will all eventually be cooked together, but until they land in the stockpot treat them as raw meat.
I usually wait to make stock until I have at least five or six pounds of parts and pieces. A single big turkey will provide this; if you’d like to make chicken stock this recipe will work nicely, but you may have to collect two or three chickens’ worth of goods to have enough to go to the trouble of making stock. However, if you don’t have a really big stock pot, this will all work fine with just a couple pounds of bird.
1. Weigh the frozen turkey pieces to the nearest pound or so, and put them (still frozen is fine) into the biggest pot in the house. Place the pot on the stove now; once everything is in the pot it will be pretty heavy!
2. For every POUND of parts and pieces, add:
3. Turn on the heat, bring to a boil, lower to a simmer, partially cover the pot with a lid, and leave it alone for an hour or two. If you are nosy you can give it a stir occasionally. Your house will smell heavenly.
4. If you wish to add parsley or basil, they are wonderful in stock but only need to be added in the last half hour or so.
5. I usually leave mine to simmer for about 3 hours, but there’s no rocket science to stock. The only guideline I’d offer is that it will need at least an hour.
6. When you think you’re ready to deal with the next step (after 1 to 3 hours of simmering), turn off the heat. Set a colander over the next-largest pot in the house, and place it next to the stockpot. Start moving everything solid – meat, bones, vegetables – with tongs or a large slotted spoon into the colander and let drain for a minute. The stuff in the colander, once it’s drained, can be pitched – I double bag these leftovers before they go in the garbage. It will be hot, messy work, but will make the stock pot a little easier to handle. Keep doing this until you have removed and drained a significant portion of the solids.
7. Now you’re ready to salt the stock. Starting by adding about a 1/2 t salt for every quart of water, stir, and taste the results. Keep going until you’re satisfied, but don’t overdo it – it’s easier to under-salt now and add more when you’re ready to use the stock.
8. Finally, drain the rest of the stock through the colander to remove the last of the solids, working in batches if necessary.
What you will now have is pot full of liquid gold. Divide it into freezer containers, label it, and stash it in the freezer, where it will last for at least 6 months. That which you refrigerate should be used within a week. I freeze pints and quarts, mostly, though some recommend freezing small quantities in ice cube trays to have them handy to chuck into sauces as needed. I’ve just never had occasion to use less than a half a cup at a time, and even then I don’t mind having extra stock in the fridge for a couple days. It makes a perfect rainy-day, low-energy light snack on days…just like today.
Photo by Flickr user Lyzadanger.
The line of glaring shoppers gathering behind me has nearly snaked its way back to the meat department. “No, I’m going to be late,” one of them relays via her cell-phone, “I got behind some idiot at the grocery store again.” My items are beginning to form a small mound near the cashier because I can’t keep the conveyor moving fast enough as I struggle to bag the haul. I realize I left an envelope of carefully clipped coupons somewhere behind me, probably near the paper products or maybe in the cereal aisle. The beads of sweat forming on my scalp and streaking down my face are starting to fall on my groceries in audible “plops.” The total is coming and I don’t have my bank-card ready. I’m shuffling through the multi-colored plastic plates when I discover—I’m missing one—the one with the money—“$163.85, please”—and I’m without a single cash cent. I look to my children for a sympathetic smile, or some indication of a greater good, and I notice only one of them is in visible range and he is choking down an unauthorized grab from the candy rack.
Grocery shopping sure ain’t for sissies, and until recently it was a task handled mainly by the super-moms of the world. I don’t mean to suggest that men can’t buy groceries. I realize there are millions of single guys out there, and at least half of them have moved out of their parents’ houses and now have places of their own. But, generally speaking, outside of a few professional cooks I know, grocery shopping isn’t very highly regarded (or appreciated) among the dudes. To underestimate the effectiveness of a well-honed shopper’s acumen is a fatal mistake however, that can lead to vein-popping stress-tests like the one described above. As the traditional roles of “husbands” and “wives” become less defined by gender, more men are being pushed into unfamiliar territories (like “produce”), and it is advisable to get your game-face on. Don’t be alarmed. I’ve been there, and in my ongoing effort to discover my inner “House-Husband,” I’ve found some essential practices that are sure to ease the strain.
More and more men are starting to shoulder their way up and down the aisles of our supermarkets, and their inexperience causes them to underestimate the complexity of the job. This often leads to a mismanaged household and worse still, reinforces a guy’s apprehension about doing it. Do yourself a favor, get serious and get good. Successful grocery shopping is an exercise in proper planning and refined technique. Everyone develops their own routine and there are countless effective strategies. I’ve only included basic practices aimed at assisting the novice shopper. With a little preparation, anyone can determine a personalized approach that meets their family’s needs. Most guys will puff-up at the slightest sign of an accomplishment, so roll-up those sleeves, unleash the “guns,” and show June Cleaver who’s the boss of the bulk bins.
Lunchsense always appreciates your comments and suggestions. Don’t be shy.
There’s a major renovation project going on at our house, and I’m the architect, contractor and primary recipient of this refurbishment. That’s right; I‘ve decided to expand and rebuild myself. The current floor-plan is simply not accommodating our family’s needs. I‘m one of a growing number of men who has been thrust into a “house-husband” role, and I have to admit—I’m struggling with it. I’m having trouble reconciling who I am with who I am. In fact, there are times when it feels like I’m disappearing altogether. What is required of me often conflicts with what is desired by me, and my current “position” (house-hubby/dad) has me feeling like the “Incredible Shrinking Man.” My circumstances and domestic responsibilities have conspired to squeeze me into a corner closet with a box of old records and a fondue pot. I’m doing a fair amount of kicking, screaming, stomping, moaning and groaning about it, and I’m not an easy person to ignore, but with the piston-driving engine of home, wife and children churning in the foreground, I’m always going to be outgunned. It all adds up to an inefficient (and cranky) household, so we’re going to have to knock out a few walls and move some things around.
If I sound like a “typical man” with some “spoiled, only-child” issues, the shoe fits. I see a problem and I want to fix it (with a home repair metaphor no less). I also want to get mine. Don’t worry moms; I understand (by now) that parenting (and husbanding) requires near-legendary levels of selflessness. And, I realize that no person is above “grunt” labor. But, remember that age-old question, “Whatever happened to the woman I married?” She becomes a mother and a homemaker and her husband doesn’t recognize her anymore. I’m facing that same kind of thing: an identity crisis and a little “stuck in the rut blues.”
I know plenty of dynamic moms who integrate their family responsibilities seamlessly with vibrant, unique personalities. They are confident and interesting, and their kids and husbands are proud of them. So, what’s my problem? The number one issue I need to overcome is acceptance/denial. I have not welcomed or embraced the “home-making” concept. I have a soft, sensitive side and I’m pretty in touch with my feelings, but I’m still mostly a “dude.” I don’t really think about this stuff much. Most men are genetically hindered in their ability to process things like dust, grocery lists, shower-grime, or home-décor. Even before I was laid-off, I was a stay-at-home dad because I worked nights. Having a job meant I could guiltlessly slack-off housekeeping, and hold my head high, knowing my kids could say their dad worked in the sports department at the local newspaper. I viewed our cluttered, undecorated home as a temporary condition. We (i.e. my wife) would get around to fixing things up eventually, when we were more settled. That was nine years ago, and I’ve been unemployed for the last nine months. We don’t always choose what happens to us, and sometimes the choices we do make lead us to unexpected places. Like it or not, I am the primary housekeeper, cook and child-care provider for our family. Thus far I’ve resisted putting much of myself into these noble endeavors. I’ve managed to get things done by just going through the motions. I’ve been trying to tread water and survive until “something” changes, but just-getting-by on a day-to-day basis for nine years has taken a toll.
So, what can I do? First thing, take a deep breath. Look at my smiling, healthy children and pat myself and my wife on the back. This is hard. It’s okay if we don’t have it mastered. Survival in this game is synonymous with success.
Next step, assume ownership over these responsibilities and begin to address the problems proactively. I’m discouraged and grumpy because I’ve accepted mediocrity from myself. I’ve been sleepwalking through the cascading to-do lists, and waiting for some special moment to shine again; however, an opportunity exists right now. I simply need to apply myself. I should put as much enthusiasm and determination into creating a more-efficient, nurturing home as I would any other personal project. Just because I lack a little housekeeping acumen doesn’t necessarily mean I don’t have taste, style or a willingness to fight mildew. I’ll admit I’ve held little regard for most domestic duties, instead viewing them as chores to be dreadfully endured. This is a critical mistake. I never visualized “house-husband” as a career choice, but I did see myself having a family. And now, my wife and kids are counting on me to deliver as much (or more) than they ever did when I was bringing home a check. I need to set a positive example for my kids and make the most of this fate. It is time to officially “take the position” and begin applying more passion and ingenuity to the task at hand.
Once I’m committed to the project, I can begin to develop strategies for overcoming my deficiencies. House-hubbies, like kids, require a lot of structure. I can’t continue to apply a “take care of the basics and wing the rest” approach to my daily agenda, or I‘ll remain powerless over the fortunes of each new day. A schedule reestablishes control. Things are addressed when I determine. Schedules eliminate uncertainty. Does that shower really need to be cleaned? Yes, today I scheduled “bathroom scrub.” Most men function efficiently when they’re “on the clock.” The successful house-husband mandates specific hours for specific tasks. There are children involved, so the calendar should maintain some fluidity, and it might take a while to establish the authority of the household schedule because it has lapsed for so long. It must be written down. The commitment to writing is a tangible statement of intent and a personal contract. When something exists on a family calendar, the entire family tends to acknowledge and respect its importance. I’m not too comfortable with contracts or dictating structure, so I’ll have to convince myself of the benefits we all stand to gain from the concentrated effort. Improved time-management increases efficiency which enables more productivity. Ultimately this should create more quality “me” time.
Two other vital elements of my renovation project involve expansion and repair. Life is a brutal contest that really requires top physical condition, especially when kids are present. As my propensity to feel overwhelmed has increased through the years, my dedication to health and fitness has waned. This is backward thinking. Aging and added stress necessitate improved fitness. I’m not just going to say I should get in shape while regretfully eyeing my paunch in the mirror. I’m going to schedule it. I’m also determined to get out of the house more on my own. I need to plan and participate in activities that will provide intellectual stimulation (or physical fitness) and networking. I shouldn’t isolate myself. I have to broaden the range of my daily experiences. In order to truly value myself, I must find ways to integrate who I am with what I do. All those super-moms that I mentioned earlier find a way to incorporate elements of themselves into their homes, their meals, and the activities they share with their children. If I lend more of myself to home-improvement and take pride in what I’m doing, I might find new means of expression. Defining and discovering who I am outside the traditional work-place is an ongoing project, but I’m determined to reassert myself rather than just passively enduring my circumstance. The blueprint has been sketched; it’s time to break-ground.
Lunchsense is always looking to become more sensible, so please share your experiences, suggestions, or shrieks of laughter below. I’ll continue to post select moments from my misadventures, offering relevant insight when I can, and together, we might make some progress.