Amanda Miller
Columnist
Lettuce Eat Local

The silence in my house right now is deafening — which is a very odd thing to say when there are four children three years old and younger in my care.  

This morning we got eight-month-old twins for foster respite care for five days; they’re just a couple weeks older than Kiah, so it’s like we have triplets! The time leading up to and getting into naptime was, shall we say, not so quiet, but by some strange yet beautiful miracle, all three babies eventually fell asleep. Not only are they all still sleeping at the same time, but Brian also came in to grab a late lunch and took Benson out to the shop with him. 

I got the dishwasher started and picked up a bit, then started to feel a little disoriented about what to do next. I’m clearly not going to do anything that makes any noise at the risk of upsetting our fragile ecosystem, and I completely expect any or all of them to get up at any second. And yet, here I am. 

I feel a little frantic to type as quickly as possible to best utilize this somewhat unfathomable lapse in clambering babies, although that pressure made me sit and stare in writer’s paralysis for a few minutes. I can hear Baby Girl occasionally stirring on the monitor, and Baby Boy’s lullabies playing in his room. Kiah hasn’t made a peep yet. 

I’ve always wanted twins, but triplets feels like a bit much. I am clearly outnumbered everywhere I look — and the number of diapers I’ll change in the next few days won’t change that feeling. Until this magical naptime, I had on average one baby crying at any given time; I won’t count on this silence happening every day, but my goodness it’s a nice way to start it off. 

I did try to head into this as prepared as I could be. Friends are scheduled to come by every day to help hold babies, something I confirmed before I said yes to the twins. The babies obviously didn’t need a lot of food prep, but since I just don’t know at all what to expect, there are some easy-to-grab components stashed in the fridge for the rest of us. I want my friends and their kids to have plenty to eat and snack on while they’re here helping of course, but when I started thinking about what to have on hand I realized it’s not quite so simple as sandwiches or pizza. 

Apparently I jive with people with food allergies: between everyone (including myself) it needs to be without gluten, dairy, garlic, honey, peanuts, potatoes, and pork. And that doesn’t include the family that has to follow an autoimmune protocol diet, which has too many restrictions to list. Hence the “components” — everyone can find something and make their own combination as needed. Rice, beans, browned hamburger, roasted cauliflower and sweet potatoes, salad fixings, watermelon, a dozen random leftovers, etc. (And yes, chocolate stashed all over the house and an extra batch of my pudding in the fridge.) 

Snacks are just as important for keeping up your baby-watching stamina, and cookies seemed like the right kind of thing to leave sitting out all day to nibble on. I make all sorts of “weird” varieties of cookies (the peanut butter chickpea ones I made recently were delish), but not often with this certain subset of ingredients, and it’s fun to try something new — like having triplets for a few days.

And like having triplets, I might not do ready-for-anything meal planning like this all the time, but every once in a while, it’s really kind of fun. Especially when it comes with days of babies.    

Cinna-nana Cookies

I’m going to be honest, these cookies did not overwhelm me with their deliciousness…yet I kept coming back for another, as there’s something more-ish about them. I could work on tweaking them more, but for now, they’re good enough, and they worked for all our many needs as well as being good for the “triplets” too, so I call that a win. Benson and I whipped them out in mere minutes, so whether you have three babies or not, it’s hard to complain about almost-instant cookies.

Prep tips: add some maple syrup if you need these cookies to be sweeter or are skipping the chocolate (which you should only do if your diet requires it; always say yes to chocolate). 

2 very ripe bananas

2 eggs

¼ cup coconut oil, melted

½ cup coconut flour

2 teaspoons cinnamon

½ teaspoon baking soda

¼ teaspoon salt

optional: chocolate of choice, melted

Mash the bananas, then whisk in eggs and oil. Mix in remaining ingredients. Scoop out desired amount and form into a ball, pressing with a fork once on a baking sheet; repeat with remaining dough. Bake at 350° for about 15 minutes, until golden on the edges. Let cool fully, then drizzle with melted chocolate.

Amanda Miller
Columnist
Lettuce Eat Local

“Should we just give up, Brian?” I asked with a deep sigh. Looking at the garden upon returning home from our trip did not inspire feelings of confidence, motivation, pride…anything positive. Unless you count positively depressing. 

The garden wasn’t quite that bad; or at least, its effect on my emotions wasn’t. As far as the garden itself is concerned, though, it’s hard to put into words how bad it was. Before we left I had done a bit of what I like to call “rescuing” my crops, which entails pulling weeds directly around the plants so I can see them again or at least know they’re surviving somewhere in there. I’m quick to acknowledge it’s not an effective long-term strategy, although I clearly never learn since it’s one I employ every growing season. It’s really more of a coping mechanism than a strategy, and a poor one at that — since in the meantime the weeds everywhere else only grow higher, taller, stronger, continuing to encroach on the life of my vegetables. 

We could call it shade protection, moisture retention, cover crop. But really it boils down to failure. 

Or at least it probably should. Yet as momentarily tempting as it was to consider mowing down the whole thing, saving the hours of extremely necessary improvement and upkeep as well as removing the constant eyesore and reminder of my struggle, actually admitting to garden defeat is not something I’ve done yet. 

And I’ve given myself reasons, oh I’ve given myself reasons. The weeds this year at my face-the-truth crisis were knee-high (and not knee-high to a grasshopper, although the plague of those isn’t helping anything either), lush and jungle-y. But to say some of them have been taller than me in previous seasons is neither stretching the truth nor the weed height.

I do weed sometimes! Just clearly never enough. I will say it is at least a more gratifying activity when the weeds are so huge and predominant that you can pull armloads worth in mere minutes, visibly transforming a section in the process. 

Sometimes my crops survive in spite of adversity, and sometimes they don’t. But I invariably find myself writing an annual article similar to this one, lamenting the deplorable nature of my garden. I was closer than I ever have been at throwing in the towel/trowel this time…then Benson came over and rejoiced at sighting a baby tomato, and I remembered one of the reasons we do this. 

And the good news is, this year I have several friends who have asked me to tend their gardens while they are gone. They know how much I love gardening, but obviously weren’t paying attention to mine when they asked, or perhaps they were just desperate enough that they weren’t checking resumes. 

To be fair, they didn’t ask me to weed. Just to water and check for produce — poor Kiah got a little watered herself at the neighbor’s when I didn’t realize the sprinkler would reach where she was sitting when I turned it on. Oops. 

But she got some summer squash out of the deal, which Benson was overjoyed to find and pick. 

Even if ours hadn’t perished in the weed jungle, summer squash is not one of those things we ever think there is a real surplus of, contrary to popular opinion. It’s so versatile, you might find it anywhere on our table these days — which is nice, because it’d be hard to find it in our garden. 

Slow-Roasted Summer Squash

Some people don’t like summer squash because it gets mushy easily, but that’s actually the point of this recipe, and I love it. The flavors are super simple, which lets the squash goodness shine through. I have two tarragon plants that are going gangbusters (they’re in pots, so safe from the garden), and don’t always know how to use it, and this was lovely. This recipe would work just as well with another fresh herb though, like basil or oregano, and zucchini would also be a good sub for the yellow squash. This dish is a good side on its own, or try it on toast, with scrambled eggs, or wrapped in a tortilla.

Prep tips: I used squash that some would say was too big to be any good, but instead of shredding it into oblivion or throwing it to the chickens, I cooked it down delightfully here. 

a drizzle of olive oil

a knob of salted butter

a couple yellow summer squash, sliced in thin rounds

several sprigs of fresh tarragon, leaves chopped

salt and cracked pepper

optional: ricotta/cottage cheese to serve

Heat oil and butter in a large skillet over medium heat, and stir in squash along with a good pinch of salt. Reduce heat to lowest and cover pan; cook, stirring every now and then, for at least half an hour — until squash has “melted,” turned rich and soft. Stir in the fresh tarragon and lots of cracked pepper, seasoning with salt to taste. Serve hot or cold, preferably with a good scoop of soft cheese. 

Amanda Miller
Columnist
Lettuce Eat Local

Gentle Saturday morning sounds surrounded me, although they weren’t the normal garden sounds for us. The wind rustled the leaves in the tall trees above (we don’t have enough trees nearby), dogs barked and kids yelled in the yards around (we don’t have close neighbors), and the straw crackled softly underfoot (we didn’t get around to strawing our garden this year). Nothing was strange; it was just easy to tell that I was working at a friend’s again instead of my house — destination gardening is kind of exciting. 

The most familiar sound to me was probably the most abnormal for the majority of people: the quiet yet incessant crunch, crunch, crunch of my three-year-old chomping on the green beans I was picking. I’m not saying other little kids don’t like fresh vegetables, but I’m guessing my son’s devotion to green beans is not totally normal. 

We have pictures of Benson at nine months old, a steamed green bean in each hand, as he leans back and crams them into his mouth. I think we’ve featured them at his birthday meal every year, since he continues to love them in any form (except for that time I stirfried them with a pepper that ended up being much spicier than anticipated). He’ll steal them off our plates, pretend to be a walrus with two green bean tusks hanging out of his mouth, and snatch them straight off the plant with a giggle and a crunch. In the middle of writing this article, at supper, Kiah kept chomping at all the many green bean pieces I offered her, so it looks like she’s following the family trajectory. 

I’m not mad. Maybe it’s even my fault, as I feel like my own personal devotion to green beans has escalated in the past few years — perhaps ever since carrying Benson. I’ve always liked them, although as a kid I probably didn’t appreciate picking them quite as much as I do now. My mom always canned what we didn’t eat fresh, and that’s still the way one of my brothers prefers them; while I’ll absolutely still eat home-canned (sometimes I even get in the mood for storebought canned, which is not a common thing for me to say), I am all about preserving the green bean harvest by freezing them. They’re not the same as fresh, but it’s close enough for me. That is, if any make it into the freezer.

I planted a different kind of green beans this year, and although the plants are growing okay, I don’t see any beans yet; so it’s perfect timing to have these friends’ gardens to glean. We picked a gallon Saturday with more to come, and maybe I should freeze some of them, but I’m absolutely not going to because I want to eat them. 

I’m so enamored with fresh green beans, it’s not entirely unusual to even see them at my place for breakfast…if they’re available, I’m eating them, any time of day. Yesterday morning while getting the yogurt out of the fridge, I saw the container of leftover cashew-basil green beans, and knew they would be a perfect breakfast food. I was right.

Benson and I can eat an oddly large amount of just plain steamed green beans for snack; sprinkling the whole beans with coarse salt, picking them up with our fingers, and polishing them all off. They’re just. so. good. 

And Benson thinks that’s normal, tee hee. Crunch, crunch, crunch. 

Just Peachy Green Bean Salad

One of the iconic garden meals from my childhood and also my life now is the classic combo of new potatoes, fresh green beans, and cubes of ham, all covered in a rich cheesy sauce. I’ll always love that for the nostalgia and the flavor, but I might have just added a new favorite seasonal green bean dish!  Peaches were going around our community the same time the green beans were coming in, so it’s a strangely good pairing all around. 

Prep tips: You want the green beans to be tender but still a bit firm. Any type of peach or nectarine will play well here — just make sure they’re ripe and sweet. 

3 tablespoons lemon juice

1 tablespoon dijon mustard

¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil

1 pound fresh green beans, lightly steamed and cooled

¼ cup candied almonds/pecans

⅓ cup crumbled feta

2 peaches, diced

salt and pepper

Whisk lemon, mustard, and oil together, then toss in remaining ingredients. Season to taste and serve.

Amanda Miller
Columnist
Lettuce Eat Local

As I dragged the grill out of the garage, I had to wonder if this was really our best choice for cooking supper. On one hand, not heating up the house by cooking inside was a big plus, as was of course the flavor of the finished food. Yet on the other hand, cooking outside meant we would have to be outside…and just walking out into the evening’s ambient temperature felt almost like laying myself on the grill grates. 

You know the week I’m talking about. We’re used to hot, but this was hot. I used to say I love the hot days of summer here in Kansas, because they remind me of the two seasons I spent in a literal desert in Kenya. They still do, especially when I take a walk in my Chaco sandals on our dusty dirt road, but I guess I’m getting old and wimpy because I love the idea and memory much more than I love the actual experience anymore. 

Fortunately, Brian did most of the actual grilling, and I just did the prep work. The kids and I were already hot — two seconds outside in the 107° heat and it felt like time for a shower — so we went out on the driveway beside the grill anyway so we could see Brian when he came back and forth to check the food. It was one of those lazy days of summer, when I had gotten done what I needed to and we were just waiting around for Brian to be done milking. 

Getting some fresh air seemed like a good idea, but that’s when I wondered if we should skip the grill and just sidewalk it. As in, just toss the chicken and vegetables on the driveway and let the scorching hot cement do our cooking. We can joke about frying an egg on the sidewalk, although the closer to the truth it gets the less funny it feels.

The kids survived by splashing around in our little blue kiddy pool for a while, although Kiah mostly wanted to lunge-crawl either out of it or into it, whichever place she wasn’t currently, and Benson apparently just wanted to jump around enough to get me soaked too. I am not a water person, and definitely not a please-splash-me person, but it was so hot even I appreciated it. The house felt like an oasis of cool air by the time we got back inside around the table for supper. 

And supper off the grill always feels epic for some reason. Maybe because my family growing up rarely ever grilled (did we even have one? I’m not sure), or maybe because Brian often helps so it’s not just me cooking, or maybe because I have a sort of complex that requires me to throw everything possible on the grill if it’s running. I love the smoky flavor and mild char texture of the grill, and how the simplest components can create such a delicious meal. 

We often begin with the idea of a cut of meat Brian wants to do, and then I start looking around for any and all vegetables to throw on alongside. Foil-wrapped onions and potatoes are standard, but if we have peppers, asparagus, portabellos, or sweet potatoes, those are going on too. And right now is the season for one of our favorites: summer squash. Most of the time I do a simple olive oil, balsamic vinegar, salt, and pepper treatment, and let the grill do the rest. Put a sauce or two (or all of them, if you’re Benson) on the table, and we can put down an amazing amount of vegetables. 

But this time, I had a bunch of fresh herbs sitting around, and some butter sitting on the counter that was totally melted in the heat. Toss them together and voila! the best addition to a grilled — or sidewalked — supper. 

Buttered Herbs

I was going to call this herbed butter, but let’s be honest, the ratio is in favor of the herbs in this case. This spread is lovely since it does double duty both as a cooking baste and a finishing sauce. The combination of herbs in this recipe is delicious, but of course customizable with the seasons. It was perfect on those grilled yellow squashes that I initially made it for, but I can’t think of a vegetable it wouldn’t shine on. Shoot, it couldn’t hurt a steak or chicken thigh, either. 

Prep tips: when I say a handful, I mean a handful — don’t be shy, excessive amounts of herbs is the whole point. The butter should still be spreadable but just barely. 

a handful of chopped fresh parsley

a handful of chopped fresh thyme

a handful of chopped fresh rosemary 

other chopped fresh herbs as desired, such as tarragon, chives, oregano, etc

1 t salt

4-8 oz [1-2 sticks] salted butter, soft

Toss everything in a bowl and stir/smash together with a rubber spatula. Spread liberally on vegetables towards the end of grilling, and then more as serving. 

Amanda Miller
Columnist
Lettuce Eat Local

Let the games begin! 

Around this house, with a three-year-old who only stops moving when he’s sleeping, games are very active. The dude runs almost constantly; if he’s not running, he’s probably riding his balance bicycle or inside bike instead. I’m surprised we haven’t yet worn a groove in a track surrounding the dining room table with how often we run around and around and around it. Benson can’t wait for Kiah to get big enough to chase him. 

Of course we have the normal games, too, like Hide and Seek, and we’ve been on a Memory kick recently. There are plenty that we’ve gradually made our own little things, often in response to some dysregulation: like giving tight squeezes to fill up him up with Mommy’s love when nothing else is right or pretending that we can’t reach each other when he’s being especially whiny (purely a hypothetical situation, of course). 

When the cousins are here, the games take on their own particular spin. Don’t Touch the Benson is an oldie but a goodie: you can guess the goal. I didn’t know how to spell Mech Suit until today when I asked what it actually meant (a mechanical suit that makes you as strong as a giant robot?), but I know it involves my son getting hoisted up by a cousin and being jumped around the house in mighty leaps. The table circuit appears again in Drift Tractor, a game I’m so glad the cousins do because I can handle pushing Benson only a couple tire-screeching circles before getting immensely dizzy. 

I’m assuming there will be some new flairs to our games in the coming weeks, thanks to the Games. The Paris Olympics has a bit more equipment available (not to mention talent), but I’m sure some volleyball, archery, and fencing themes will easily find their way into the activities. 

Shoot, we already have sprints all the time, and I’m fairly certain I saw a game of rugby being played in the living room earlier. 

We never just have the TV on, but the Olympics are a special case, so I have them playing quietly in the background while I type. It’s gymnastics right now, one of my favorites to watch, and we just saw a few of the women on the Brazilian team compete. Benson paid attention to a balance beam routine, then commented very nonchalantly, “I can do that, sometimes.”

Good luck, pal, I can’t even do a cartwheel so I don’t expect you to have gotten any gymnastic genes from me. I’m not sure your daddy can touch his toes, so yeah no help there either. 

While I can’t help with the physical prowess side of things, I can try and do my part from the kitchen. Thanks to my parents’ globally interested palates, I grew up eating dishes from around the world; usually ones we made and usually out of one particular cookbook. I grabbed that cookbook off the shelf earlier this week, in search of an international meal that would suit my needs that day: one-pot, make-ahead, and at least somewhat “normal” for the less adventurous cousins I would also be feeding. Appropriately for all this amazing gymnastics I’m seeing, I settled on a casserole from Brazil. I thought it was very good, although not quite as impressive as the team’s tumbling. 

Our menus and our games will continue to be influenced by the Olympics for a bit, and I’ll continue enjoying Benson confidently assuming his somersault was as impressive as the floor routines. 

Brazilian Mashed Potato and Meat Pie [Nhoques de Forno]

This dish is both so recognizable — hello meat and potatoes — and also so different. I’ve never added flour or baking powder to mashed potatoes except to make gnocchi, which this is not at all…although the translation from Portuguese does mean “oven gnocchi” so there’s that. The two layers of different meats is unusual but fun. The cookbook I reference is called Extending the Table; get one. 

Prep tips: Like I said, I thought the flavors were great, but Brian was jaded by the small amount of meats called for, so just add more if you want to make it more substantial. 

4 cups warm mashed potatoes (nothing added yet)

1 cup warm milk

2 tablespoons butter

2 eggs

½ cup shredded cheese of choice

½ cup flour

1 teaspoon salt

2 teaspoons baking powder

thin slices of ham and mozzarella

½ pound browned ground beef/sausage

2 cups pureed fresh tomatoes

pinches of salt, sugar, and pepper

Add the milk, butter, eggs, cheese, flour, salt, and baking powder to the potatoes; mashing and stirring well until smooth. Layer half into a 9×13” pan. Cover with two layers of the slices of ham and mozz, then spread on the remaining potatoes. Heat beef and tomatoes with seasoning, simmering for a few minutes; then pour over the top of the potatoes. Bake at 300° for 40 minutes.