Ode to Fish Tacos

We've made these tacos twice this last week and I'm already thinking about when I can get away with making them again. So, in the interest of sharing good recipes with people I like, here's the "Cook This, Not That" version of fish tacos...

Grilled Fish Tacos

Ingredients:
1 mango, pitted, peeled and cubed
1 avocado, pitted, peeled and cubed
1/2 red onion, finely chopped
Juice of one lime, plus wedges for garnish
chopped, fresh cilantro
Salt and Black pepper
Canola oil
2 large mahi mahi (we used tilapia)
1 tbsp blackening spice (more on that later)
8 corn tortillas
2 cups of finely shredded red cabbage

-Mix the mango, avocado, onion and juice of one lime in a bowl. Season with cilantro, salt and pepper.

-Heat a grill or stovetop grill pan until hot. Drizzle a light coating of oil over the fish and rub on the blackening spice. Cook the fish, undisturbed, for 4 minutes. Carefully flip with a spatula and cook for another 4 minutes. Remove.

-Warm the tortillas on the grill for 1 to 2 minutes or wrap in damp paper towels and microwave for 1 minute until warm and pliable.

-Break the fish into chunks and divide among the warm tortillas. Top with the cabbage and the mango salsa. Serve with the lime wedges.

*Rub for Fish:
1 tsp each: cumin, paprika, cayenne, oregano, black pepper, and salt. If you're sensitive to spicy foods, you might want to cut down on the cayenne.

Makes 4 servings
380 calories per serving
11 g fat

Yum.

I Heart Sam

Today started with lots of tears. The big, hot kind that well up in the corner of Sam's big blue eyes and then roll furiously down his round cheeks, blotchy from crying. The culprit? Teething, or so I assume. Ear-pulling, fussiness, chewing on anything and everything, excessive drool: all apparent clues to the advent of The Tooth. I tried everything to make things better. Cold teethers, cold baby food, cold water, rubbing his gums with my finger, and then eventually I held him upside down to hopefully distract him. Oddly enough, that got a laugh or two and seemed to make things better. Whew. And then the tears were back again. Sigh.

Currently, Sam's snoozing in his little swing and I'm enjoying channel 840, also known as "Classical Masterpieces." Now that I have a quiet moment or two, accompanied by Mozart, I'm musing a bit. Specifically, I've been pondering lately how full my heart is these days as a mom. Despite the rough patches, which always pass, I am so in love with this little boy named Sam. Sometimes I get a bit overwhelmed by this love and squeeze him a little hard for someone who weighs 17 pounds. My friend Lyndsay would laugh at this because she's always complaining that I hug too hard. Well, I hug to the measure that I love. Sam's uncomfortable grunt when I hugged him tight earlier today let me know that he'd had enough love for the moment. Seriously, this new reality of being a mom is powerful. I understand now what it means to "have your heart walking around outside of your body." Or crawling, as the case may be.

The follow-up thought to all this love I'm feeling these days is an acute sensitivity to the thought of a child not being loved. I've always been bothered by news stories about child abuse or children neglected or abandoned. But, now that Sam exists in the world, I feel this intense, instinctive desire to protect. I get a pit in my stomach whenever I see someone yelling at their child at the mall or when I see a new mom who's brought her screaming 2 week old baby to Wal-Mart. It takes everything I've got not to walk over and offer to adopt those people's children. Seriously.

All of this has made me keenly aware of a desire to literally adopt. I've always thought I wanted to, but now I can't stop thinking about it. I know that adopting one child (or two) obviously won't negate all the evil done in the world to children, but at least it's a start. I confessed to my husband recently that I'm praying for enough money to adopt a baby. I felt like he should probably be aware of this specific petition I was making. That way, if God lets us win the lotto, Matt will know where the money's supposed to go.

So, as I sit here and watch the rise and fall of Sam's little chest as he sleeps, I'm wondering what the future holds for him and for our family. Who else is going to be hanging out here with Sam and I listening to Mozart's Concerto No. 1? I love thinking about the possibilities and I'm aching a bit to hold additional little ones and love them as hard as I love Sam.

Spontaneous Baking

So, yesterday morning I noticed there were some over-ripened bananas on the counter and, as it turns out, some chocolate chips in the pantry. The obvious thing to do in this situation? Make some Chocolate Chip Banana Bread. After eating a third of the loaf myself, I'd say this is a recipe to be shared. So, here you go...

Miss Daisy's Banana Nut Bread (chocolate chips, optional)

1/3 c vegetable oil
1/3 cup sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 egg
2 medium ripe bananas
1 1/2 c whole wheat flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 c skim milk
1/2 c chopped pecans
*I added a handful or so of chocolate chips.

Assemble all ingredients and utensils. Preheat oven to 350.
Spray a 5x9 in loaf pan with nonstick cooking spray. In a large mixing bowl cream together oil, sugar, vanilla, egg and bananas with an electric mixer. In a separate bowl combine flour, baking powder, soda and cinnamon. Gradually add the dry ingredients to the banana mixture alternately with skim milk. Fold in the pecans. Pour the batter into the prepared loaf pan. Bake at 350 for 45-50 minutes, until browned and tests done. Yields 1 loaf or 12 1/2 in thick slices.

calories sans chocolate chips: 184
fat: 10 g

Tomorrow's recipe? Tomato Aspic, also courtesy of Miss Daisy. So be sure to pick up your lemon-flavored gelatin and tomato juice at the store this afternoon.

Life as a Non-Bachelorette

I have a confession to make: I watch The Bachelorette. Perhaps I just lost a little bit of your respect, but alas, I cannot deny that this glorified depiction of a harem of men all dating one girl sucks me in every Monday night. I missed it this week because we took Sam to the pool, but I planned ahead (which rarely happens these days) and recorded it. So yesterday I found myself doing laundry, feeding Sam and changing diapers as I watched Ali date her way through the last 6 well-built suitors.

If you missed this episode, you should probably take a break now and download it on Hulu.com, because this week found Ali and her fellas in gorgeous Istanbul visiting immense Turkish baths, perusing local spice markets, buying fancy rugs for exorbitant prices, etc. The city was unexpectedly breathtaking and I lost myself a little in the slightly mysterious and brilliantly colorful old world of Istanbul.

And Then. (ominous "dun dun dun" here) A Smell. I glanced down from the panoramic views of Turkey to a telling look on Sam's face and I knew what was coming. I paused the DVR just as Ali's third date was declaring his unconditional, three-weeks old love for her to the camera somewhere during their date. (side note: Do they take time out to interview them during their dates? Seems like that would be a real mood-killer.) While Ali's earnest date was frozen mid-declaration on my tv screen against a backdrop of majestic domed mosques, I changed a diaper that left me needing smelling salts.

I paused for a moment to consider the intensely different situations: Ali in exotic Turkey being courted by 6 handsome men and me in our Tennessee living room witnessing the result of digested apples and prunes. Sigh. I laughed out loud, which is always a little weird when you're alone, or semi-alone. This was one of the more "welcome to the reality of motherhood" moments that I've had lately. I'm obviously not envying Ali the Bachelorette's unusual dating life, but I must admit to wanting a little of the perks that come with it. Maybe I should be more specific.

I'd love to hang out in a Basilica Cistern in Istanbul and have dinner in the middle of a backlit pool of water with a handsome man (obviously, Matt), but what I could really go for is a night out with my husband, wearing something that hasn't been chewed on and eating something I haven't just microwaved.

Here's hoping that this weekend includes a dinner date sans diapers and baby food.

Things I'm OK with these days.

I just did something I never thought I would do. I went to the mall wearing make-up from yesterday. What? It happened. If my 25 year-old self could have witnessed my present 32 year-old self wearing day old make-up in public, some sort of dramatic intervention might have taken place.

But, let's be real here. It turns out that motherhood has found me being ok with a plethora of things I would not have done in my past Sam-less life. I feel like I should list those things here for your entertainment or for you to feel like you're a little less alone. Here goes.

-I wear the same two pairs of yoga capri pants more than anyone should be allowed to in a week.

-I wear the same said pairs of yoga pants IN PUBLIC. Never thought this one would happen, but it has. I justify it by also wearing lip gloss.

-I am ok with wearing things that have been slightly spit up on. Sometimes, more than slightly is ok, depending on how tired I am and how many times I've already changed my shirt that day. I'm considering patenting my design for a shirt made entirely of burp-cloths.

-Regardless of how hard I try, I am late for almost everything. If you and I are meeting somewhere for lunch, please allow 15-20 minutes extra for me to arrive. I promise it's for a good reason (i.e. I just got thrown up on, someone's diaper just exploded as we were walking out the door, or someone is taking a nap which is lasting about 2.5 hours longer than normal).

-I am ok with being sneezed on, even in my face at 2 inch range. This is really more of a babies-only thing, but if you do happen to sneeze in my face, I'll be a lot more laid-back about it than I would have been 6 months ago.

-I hardly ever know what's going on in a movie or tv show because I've usually missed the important plot twists while changing a diaper or two or three. My husband is now the King of Recaps.

-I type emails with one hand, and more recently blog posts. Speaking of that, the babe is requiring two hands at the moment, (i.e. someone just made a deposit in his diaper) so I'll conclude for now.

An entire post about the weather.

It's HOT. I keep saying this to my husband and to friends on the phone and to cashiers at the grocery store. I'm tired of hearing myself say it, but I can't seem to stop. This is my first summer with a babe (Sam, 6 months and 1 week) and it turns out that carrying an extra (almost) 16 pounds on my hip just makes me hotter. Sadly, only in a temperature-related way, not in a Paris Hilton sort of way.

Currently, it's about 95 degrees here and I'm hanging out in a 70 degree house eating the occasional popsicle and standing over the occasional air vent. I should be used to this heat. I was born and raised in Georgia (read: HOTlanta) for crying out loud. But, alas, I'm a big wimp when it comes to anything above 85 degrees. I should probably be required to turn in my Southern Belle card.

On a semi-related note, while driving home this afternoon from meeting a friend for lunch at my favorite place in Knoxville, (The French Market on Gay St.) I pulled up behind what seemed at first to be a nice little white convertible. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a Ford Focus whose owner had somewhat awkwardly cut the top off of his car. At first I was appalled at the lack of foresight (What will he do when it rains? What about when it turns cold again, if that ever happens?) but that was mixed with something like admiration. Perhaps this driver of the altered Ford Focus was on to something. Perhaps my Jeep Grand Cherokee could also go through a similar transformation and allow Sam and I to feel the wind in our hair as we drove down the hot interstate. I took another look at the Ford Focus "convertible" and decided that, in fact, I should not make that man my role model. Still, when you're living in 95 degrees (100 degree heat index) you find that things like cutting the top off of your sedan sound like a good idea. Evidence, perhaps, that extreme heat kills brain cells

The babe is stirring. Time for one of those aforementioned diaper changes.