sloppy joes

this is how the geek eats his sloppy joes. he's quite neat about it. i, on the other hand, like to eat them as open-faced piles of sloppy goodness.

i first made these for the geek back when we were dating. yes, i know- this is probably the most unromantic thing to make someone. it's messy and not at all sophisticated. elementary school cafeteria lunch anyone? it's probably the equivalent of showing up for a date wearing sweatpants and an old t-shirt - totally not fashionable, but oh so comfortable.

but the geek is a man of simple tastes. up until these, he thought sloppy joe filling only came in a can. so upon his first bite, he was impressed. he loved it!

he still requests this on a regular basis and he's even learned to make it himself.

and despite my earlier elementary school lunch comment, i love these too. it's saucy, satisfying tastiness on a bun.

blueberry mochi

have you ever experienced a recollection where you aren't quiet sure if what you're remembering actually happened or if your mind is playing tricks on you? where you know many of the details are true because you're remembering something that was once your normal, even if your actual memory of that specific moment is hazy?

i am probably being a bit confusing, so let me explain.

while sorting through old recipe cards, i had one of those moments. i found a recipe for blueberry mochi, written in my handwriting- or in my handwriting of ten or fifteen years ago. i knew i'd never made this recipe, but i did have a memory of copying it down.

my family and i are at my grandmother's house for a visit. as always, she's brought out an assortment of canned beverages and cups on a small circular wood tray. i split a can of something with one of my parents and settle in for our visit. on these visits with my grandmother, we'll have our drinks, watch some tv (usually the gameshow network), then head home. if my grandmother attended a recent church function, she'll bring out an mix of desserts and point out which ones were good or not so good. apparently every function at her church ended with lots of extra desserts, and everyone went home with a sample of leftovers.

on this occasion, she brings out a recipe. while i can't remember what it was written on, i can still hear her telling me, "write this down. oishii."

oishii means 'delicious' in japanese. from my stoic grandmother, this is high praise. unfortunately, i remember feeling lazy, not wanting to hand-copy a recipe, and saying something like, "nah, that's okay."

apparently this recipe is really delicious, because she insists, "no, this is good."

my dad steps in and tells me to copy it, so i do. not because i really want a blueberry mochi recipe, but because my grandmother and now my father are telling me to.

now i am glad that i did since my grandmother was right, it is good. she passed away two years ago, and it's been even longer since she was well enough to live unassisted and go to church functions. finding this recipe card brought back happy memories. while i'm not sure if the details are completely accurate, the wood tray of drinks and cups, eating church function left-over desserts, and watching the gameshow network were all part of our regular visits that i'd almost forgotten.

for anyone not familiar with mochi, it's traditionally made by pounding cooked sweet rice until individual grains have broken down and reformed into a chewy blob of slightly sweet goodness. this recipe modernizes the idea, creating what can best be described as a blueberry cake with the chewiness of mochi. it uses sweet rice flour, or mochiko, so no pounding is required.

garlic mashed potatoes

the geek and his mother both have a story about mashed potatoes. he laughs when he tells it; she rolls her eyes with mock indignance when she tells it. i like to think of myself as an unbiased party when it comes to telling this story...

once upon a time, there was a little geek. occasionally, his mother would serve mashed potatoes as part of their the family meals. now, the little geek did not care for mashed potatoes. to him, it tasted like mashed goo. he tolerated it, shoveled it in and washed it down with milk, but he really, really, most definitely did not like it.

this went on for years, until one day, teenager geek took a bite of mashed potatoes and had an epiphany! this bite of mashed potatoes was delicious! maybe he did like mashed potatoes after all!

"wow," he exclaimed to his mother, "did you do something different with the potatoes because they're really good!"

to this she replied, "this is the first time i made mashed potatoes FROM A BOX."

to this day, the geek prefers his mashed potatoes from a box. in fact, the first time i made this recipe, he was so apprehensive about 'real' mashed potatoes that we bought a box to have on hand just in case.

luckily he liked it enough that we did not have to break open the box. it's in our pantry waiting to save the day if the next starch experiment fails because he still insists that the box is the best.