*I Cook Barefooted!* ~ Pasta Con Broccoli

Barefoot Love!

 I love pasta!

 Noodles and sauce are my go-to comfort food,

all warm and garlicky and generously sprinkled with cheesy goodness!

I particularly love it served up in a wide, flat-rimmed bowl

with a nice crispy-on-the-outside, warm-and-soft-on-the-inside

  hunk of french bread and real butter on the side.

A glass of Merlot,

good company

and I'm feelin' right as rain!

Ahh, Pasta!

Spinach Lasagna,
Spaghetti and meatballs,
and my kids' favorite, Macaroni n' Cheese
have always been staples on our supper table.
Filling, affordable and healthy in moderation,
they are a mother's dream!

I'm not gonna lie.
Pleasing my family at the supper table
is among some of my more sought after goals in life. 
It is also, ironically, a look into my ever-growing madness. 


I fantasize often,
while hovering over a rainbow of color in the produce section, 
of strolling through a comfortably busy, preferably European outdoor market 
(Italy would be nice)
with my ECO-friendly shopping tote on one arm
and the hand of a small child clinging to the other, 
smiling and sharing giggles and kisses,
(picture slow motion action here ~ a gentle breeze in my hair)
as we lovingly fondle
the perfect ingredients for our family's evening meal!

Reality, sadly, often rears its ugly head here, 
leaping frantically
to some poor woman and her screaming toddler four aisles over! 
(PS: Been there. You have my pity.)
(PPS: "Never give in ~ never, never, never, never, in nothing great or small, large or petty, 
never give in except to convictions of honor and good sense. 
Never yield to force; never yield to the  apparently overwhelming might of the enemy 
*ahem... precious child*.")

   ~Winston Churchill

 My lovely daydream has now morphed into, something along the lines of, 
Me ~ *Lost* in Italy,
just like Elizabeth Gilbert in, "Eat, Pray, Love" ~
only... happily married,
and *not* so miserable 
that I resort to sleeping on my bathroom floor, 
and living my day to days, unhappy and unsatisfied with my life.
Really ~  just the Eat, Pray and Love parts.
***

Ciao! Amico!

*Hey, Friend!*

Buongiorno! 

*Good Morning!*

Come stai?

 *How are you?*

Bene, grazie!

*I'm fine, thanks!*

 Potresti aiutarmi?

 *Can you help me?*

Sono Affamato!

*I'm hungry.*

Sei molto gentile!

 *You're very kind!*

Io amo la Pasta!

 *I love Pasta!*

*** 
 What can I say ~ It's my dream.
Pasta, just has a way of making you feel like all is right with the world. 
Isn't it lovely!



 ❤
 Happy Anniversary, Babe!
Here's a toast to Nineteen years of Bliss and Broccoli!

☮

Pasta con Broccoli

 1 lb. Frozen Broccoli
1lb. Medium-sized "Seashell" Pasta Shells

1 qt. Half n' Half

1 pt. Meatless Ragu Pasta Sauce

3/4 Stick Butter

1/4 lb. Parmesan Cheese, shredded

1 small package Mushrooms, sliced

Garlic Salt, to taste (OR  2 Tbsp. Minced Garlic)

Crushed Red Pepper, to taste

Add pasta to rapidly boiling water and cook till done.

Combine rest of ingredients on list, (except Parmesan) into a large pot.

Cook slowly on medium heat until broccoli thaws. 

Drain pasta, and add to large pot.

Remove from heat; add Parmesan cheese and stir. 

Buon gusto!

*Enjoy!*

You want reviews?
    How 'bout, 
    "BRAVISSIMO!" ヅ

 How 'bout You?
Have a recipe you want to share on 
*I Cook Barefooted!*?
Show some Barefoot Love and...

Send it here:  scarlettcolleen@yahoo.com 
Want to include a photo? Fun!

What's on your table?

“Do not be too timid and squeamish about your actions.

All life is an experiment.”

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

 *Barefoot Love*Airbrush By, Colleen 
2012

*I Cook Barefooted!* ~ Key Lime Pie

Barefoot Love!

We moved a lot when I was little.


"Our battered suitcases
were piled on the sidewalk again;
we had longer ways to go.
But no matter,
the road is life."
~ Jack Kerouac

California 
introduced us to
Giant Redwoods, the West Coast,

and Disneyland.

I was an infant;

Breast was the meal du jour!

Alaska 
introduced us to 
a very… long… car ride,

and bean sandwiches.

We were poor. 

We had love and beans.

Florida 
introduced us to
the East Coast...

 The Florida Keys ~ That's me there; the little smiling face in the two piece!

the Sun, the Sand, and the Wind in our hair...

and it began my love affair
with my Be-lov-ed

Key Lime Pie!


"Adventure is a path.
Real adventure ~ self-determined, self-motivated,
often risky...
forces you to have firsthand encounters with the world.
The world the way it is, not the way you imagine it.
Your body will collide with the earth
and you will bear witness.
In this way you will be compelled
to grapple with the limitless kindness
and bottomless cruelty of humankind...
and perhaps realize that you yourself
are capable of both.
This will change you.
Nothing will ever again 
be black-and-white."
~ Mark Jenkins

In 1972,

my mom clipped a recipe from the Tampa Times.

She selected true key limes,

as the ingredient list suggested,

on a drive down to the Florida Keys.

Key limes are yellow, when ripe,

and smaller than the limes

found in these parts.

They’re tart and bitter and delicious!

The following November

we introduced 
Our Kentucky Family 
to a

Thanksgiving mouth explosion!

We've been hooked since!

There are few culinary pleasures that actually

tug on my heartstrings.

I do love me a Krispy Kreme glazed doughnut!

And, I am a sucker for a bowl of warm pasta and bread.

But it is that last Thursday in November,

every year since I was four,

that my mouth, literally, becomes a pie hole.

 “Really, it’s green?”

Yes, it is my friends!

Yes, it is.

☮

Key Lime Pie

For Pie:

1 can Sweetened Condensed Milk

4 Egg yolks (Save the whites for Meringue!)

¼ cup Lime juice,
(Key limes preferably, but bottled lime juice will suffice!)

3 to 4 drops of Green food coloring
*Presentation folks. It's all in the presentation.*

1 Graham cracker crust

For Meringue:

4 Egg whites

1 tsp. Cream of tartar

3 Tbsp. Sugar

Beat egg yolks until light yellow.

Add sweetened condensed milk and lime juice.

Mix in drops of green, and Voila!

Pour into graham crust.

Beat all ingredients for the meringue in mixer

until stiff and peaks form.

~If you’re looking to combine dessert with your workout:

Whisk in a glass bowl and count after me…

One, Two, Ten-thousand! ~

Pile immediately on top of pie in pretty dips and waves.

Bake at 350 degrees until tips of meringue are lightly browned.

You want reviews?

    How 'bout, 

"Green is my new favorite color!"  ヅ

     

How 'bout You?
Have a recipe you want to share on 
*I Cook Barefooted!*?
Show some Barefoot Love and...
Send it here:  scarlettcolleen@yahoo.com 
Want to include a photo? Fun!

What's on your table?


 

“Do not be too timid and squeamish about your actions.

All life is an experiment.”

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

 *Barefoot Love*Airbrush By, Colleen 
2012

*I Cook Barefooted!* ~ Chicken Pot Pie Love

Barefoot Love!

I am no cook. 

I beg, borrow and steal any recipe 

that sounds like it might taste yummy, 

and just maybe will satisfy my picky eaters. 

For the record:

They don't like mushrooms. Big no-no.

 They don't like peppers, onions or asparagus.

They don't like pretty much anything that used to swim in the ocean, 
hate chicken five days a week

and despise the smell of salmon patties.

Reality strikes:

I DON'T COUNT GREEN BEANS.

Pick through it, talk to it, take it for a walk.

Whatever helps gets you past it.

 (What this means is, eat it or don't, but it is what's for dinner.)

 No worries, they won't starve. There's always bread.

 They like bread.

And, they're beginning to not mind the rest... so much.

Wednesdays are generally when I start

thinking about what to add to my grocery list

for the following week. 

By the time grocery day comes around

(this is any day I can get my butt in gear and actually make it to the store)

I am usually scrambling to remember that recipe I thought might

shake things up around here. Something my family 

just... might... thank me for.

So ~ Wednesdays are my new *I cook barefooted!* days here on 

Scarlett's Tattoo!

Read. Steal. Cook away!

And if you're in the mood for sharing, please do! 

(You can email me directly with a recipe

you'd like to share, if you like: scarlettcolleen@yahoo.com.

Don't forget to Name it something fun and Mark it with a 'B'! 
For Barefoot, of course!)
 ~And Thank you My Sweet, for *Barefoot Love!*~

So, here’s a funny story. 

Though true, to the best of my recollection, and apparently impaired judgment, I rarely humor such poor parenting at the supper table.

That is best served warm and with dessert!

My kids laugh out loud still today about 
“The night Mom lost it!”

Yes, my day had been less than stellar. I admit.

It was one night out of seven, I am sure, that we were all five of us actually sitting down together to eat at the kitchen table. Not in our coveted positions on the couch, the chairs and the floor in front of the television, but actually sitting our butts in chairs and giving thanks for what we were about to stuff into our waiting mouths.

In my worst nightmares, and ironically, also in my wildest dreams, I was in charge of feeding our spawn our beautiful family. As I stood in front of the fridge, door kicked open wide, kids whining and milling about my personal space, as if any minute their stomachs might turn inside out and flop onto the kitchen floor quivering...

I saw a nice bottle of white wine hiding waaaayyy back on the top shelf

 (obviously placed there for just such an occasion).

A smile lit my face.

Supper?

I’ll give you supper.

Let’s all have a moment of silence, please,

while Mom indulges in some of that *Me* time

 she’s always going on about.

My husband, and sometimes better half, arrived just then to see me leaning into the kitchen counter, glass in hand, a stray child at my feet, 

 glaring smiling warmly at him, as he made his big entrance.

"So, it's one of those days, is it", he grinned.

Two glasses of wine, on an empty stomach,

in case you’re wondering how long it takes 

to prepare a meal fit for this family.

Two.

By the time our Thanks were given to God, the Universe and All that is good in the world, those chicken pot pies met their fate,

as ALL good Chicken Pot Pies do.

Here’s the funny part.

One glass of wine warms my belly.

Two glasses of wine…

 catapults me straight to Crazy Town.

 Somewhere between Grace and Pot Pie Love, I practically broke into song, singing the praises of my home cooked meal.

Apparently, I also made plans

 (ahem! … in the form of a kick-ass business model)

to cook ‘em up, wrap ‘em tight and sell them by the side of the road!

Oh, yeah... and there was something about 

how I hovered over my plate whispering to my fork, but…

I don’t believe that one bit. ヅ

***

 ☮

Chicken Pot Pie Love!

1 Tbsp. oil

4-6 chicken breasts, skinned

Frozen veggies, your choice

(I use broccoli, mushrooms; sometimes peas and carrots)

Chicken gravy, homemade with chicken stock or canned

Shredded Cheddar Cheese

Refrigerated prepared pie shells for top and bottom crust

Heat oil in skillet.

Cook chicken till no longer pink.

If using mushrooms, add them now with a little butter and cook 5min.

*I season the chicken  and mushroom mixture
with a little minced garlic or garlic salt, 
and my favorite, 'McCormick's Italian Herb Seasoning Grinder!' *

Place bottom crust in pie tin. Toss in frozen veggies, unthawed, filling entire bottom crust. Top with cooked chicken mixture from skillet.

Pour a wee bit of gravy over top.

Spread approximately ½ cup cheddar cheese over top.

Place top crust over pie.

Bake at 375 degrees, for about 45 minutes, give or take.

Pies are done when top crust is lightly browned.

Serve with gravy on the side.
 

*4 to 6 chicken breasts will make two pies...
unless you want more veggies than chicken,
and in that case, more.*

*One pie will serve 4 hungry adults* 
Unless you're a giant or a hungry elf, and then, you will need two pies.
*Little known fact: We like a boiled egg, on the side, with our pot pies.*
   

You want reviews?

    How 'bout, 
~ a little Dickens! ~ ヅ

*'Please, sir, I want some more.'

The master was a fat, healthy man; but he turned very pale. He gazed in stupified astonishment on the small rebel for some seconds, and then clung for support to the copper. The assistants were paralysed with wonder; the boys with fear.

'What!' said the master at length, in a faint voice.

'Please, sir,' replied Oliver, 'I want some more.'

The master aimed a blow at Oliver's head with the ladle; pinioned him in his arm; and shrieked aloud for the beadle.

The board were sitting in solemn conclave, when Mr. Bumble rushed into the room in great excitement, and addressing the gentleman in the high chair, said,

'Mr. Limbkins, I beg your pardon, sir! 

Oliver Twist has asked for more!'

There was a general start. 
Horror was depicted on every countenance.*

~ Charles Dickens ~
'Oliver Twist'

How 'bout You?
Have a recipe you want to share on 
*I Cook Barefooted!*?
Show some Barefoot Love and...

Send it here:  scarlettcolleen@yahoo.com 
Want to include a photo? Fun!

What's on your table?

“Do not be too timid and squeamish about your actions.

All life is an experiment.”

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

 *Barefoot Love*Airbrush By, Colleen 
2012

Joy! It's complicated.

Joy is found in the little things. Is that true? ‘Cause I would like my JOY in the form of a Krispy Kreme doughnut, please. Smothered in a sugary glaze. And just off the line warm. I understand this request is only temporary joy, but I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth – especially if it comes with a glass of milk.

Finding JOY is, something akin to, Yukon Cornelius taming his Bumble. Sometimes you just have to wrastle (yes, I said wrastle, auto-correct) this Life into submission, knocking out those sharp teeth, that would just as soon eat you as greet you. If you’ll recall, Bumbles are BIG, not little. There was great JOY, if not an eerie sense of merriment, to be found in that raging, toothless, fluff of white – after our perky little prospector helped him out with his anger problem. “Didn’t I ever tell you? Bumbles bounce!”

Sometimes, I feel like a Bumble.

Finding the Joy in that?

Well, it’s complicated.

Joy is found in the little things.

It’s in that extra few seconds of sleep you begged God for this morning.

It’s in that moment of terror when you found the mouse in the toe of your boot.

It’s in the humor you found today, that escaped you yesterday.

It’s in a friendly wave and a nod from your neighbor, and that unexpected phone call from a friend.

It’s in the smack warm hug you witnessed between two brothers.

It's in your kids and every last bone-headed thing they do.

It's in a song. Not just any song. But, Your song.

It's in the spelling of your name, with your butt, to hear the birthday girl laugh.

It’s in the look you shared with your husband when he danced in his underwear.

It’s in the funny bone you hit on the corner of the shower this morning.

It’s in that look the dog gave you when she caught you drinking from the carton.

It’s in every last twinkly light and handmade ornament hanging from your tree.

It’s in that cup you're drinking out of now. You know, the one that says, JOY, on it!

It is in our desperate search for Serenity, Courage and Wisdom in our lives.

And, It is in all of those things we forget to look for when our eyes are looking down.

JOY!
Is inside of You. 

May you Find It and Wield It with Reckless Abandon!

                                              

                                                             The Joy of Tree!

                                                         

                                                             
                                                     The Joy of Baby Love!

Oh, Boy!

I once heard my son, our first born, emit a deep throaty noise (maniacal laugh, maniacal laugh) as he posed for a Father’s Day photo shoot – wielding his dad’s chainsaw, his dad’s blow torch, his dad’s chair, his dad’s truck and even his dad’s Beloved Ibanez, and live to tell about it.

This is his Dad's chainsaw.

This is his Dad's blowtorch.

This is his Dad's chair.

This is his Dad's truck. (Yes, licking it)

This is his Dad's Beloved Ibanez...

... Up Close and Personal.

 

 

THIS is his DAD.

 

 

 

A chuckle,

A growl,

A sigh,

A “sweeeeeet!”

I’ve seen and heard it all.

This Thanksgiving I, a boy’s mother, witnessed the joy of ownership…

...in a giggle.

Oh, Boy!