Help!

Rachel here.

My ma mentioned in her last post that Maxine has been diagnosed with MRSA. As anyone who's familiar with that difficult mistress knows, this means there's been a ton--TON--of cleaning in our house lately. Like, every single thing, every single day. Needless to say, cooking has taken the back burner around these parts. We have remembered out of necessity and a desire not to wash anything extra that a good portion of our refrigerator is happily and deliciously consumed raw. Yeah, these are the salad days.

I have a question for all of you dear readers of ours. Part of our daily routine now involves shoving medications up Max's nose and down her throat. The nose part sucks, but the kid is happily rewarded for her willing participation by being granted access to my jewelry. Last night--no joke!--she was walking around in strings of pearls with an arm laden with my grandmother's gold bracelets and pajamas. It was pretty cute and the sparkle seemed to help her forgot her burning nostrils. The hard part--and this is where I'm pleading with you for your own tricks!--is getting liquid meds in her. We've tried putting them in her food. We've tried milk with honey. We've accepted that the taste is too foul and the quantity too great to expect her to take them on their own. I know some of you have kids. How have you navigated this dilemma? We'll try anything.

Thanks guys! Go team!

Cooking Through Grief and Worry and Frustration and ...

Last week was not easy. I went to the memorial service of a man who was like a second father to me — my childhood best friend's father. While he lived a wonderful full life, dying only three weeks after he was out dancing with his wife of 63 years and at the age of 87, it's still, as everyone knows who has suffered this kind of loss, gut wrenching.

Last week is also when our granddaughter was diagnosed with MRSA. MRSA, if you don't know, is a fairly — no very — scary antibiotic-resistant form of staph. Of course Rachel and John have pulled out all the stops. (You can read about it in Rachel's blog.) But they're 3,000 miles away and I can't do a damn thing to help other than read things about MRSA online (I would not recommend this as a plan by the way) and try very hard not to freak out.

So in between just feeling sad and hyperventilating, I did one of the things I do when I'm trying to work through emotions. I cooked.

I made mookies (recipe here)


And roasted vegetable soup


And a quiche


and banana chocolate chip oatmeal cookies


(Oh and I also put a coat of paint on a display case I'm redoing and knit. So yea, I was a little manic.)

The cooking made me feel a little better, though. As I diced and mixed and stirred and spiced, I felt as if things were normal. I was making good food for someone I love, food that would nurture him literally and emotionally, and for at least those moments life's uncontrollable moments were held at bay. It may not be for long, but I'll take it.

Banana Chocolate Chip Oatmeal Cookies

ingredients
1 1/2 cups flour
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 cup (! 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 egg
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla
1/2 cup mashed ripe banana
1 cup rolled oats
8 ounces semisweet chocolate chips
1/2 cups chopped walnuts

method
Heat oven to 375 degrees.
Mix together the butter and sugars in a large bowl and beat until light and creamy. Add the egg and vanilla and mix until combined. Mix in the banana. Add the flour, salt and baking soda and mix until just combined. Add the oats, chocolate chips and walnuts.

Place on a baking sheet. Bake 12-13 minutes until golden brown. Cool on wire racks.