Honey Mustard Salmon on Bed of Veggies

  I got home today with a taste for something light and with about half an hour to get my yum on. I'm no foodie, but I've gotten pretty good at cobbling a decent meal together with stuff I have around the house. I also can usually whip up something light to keep the wolves at bay, because I have a teenager.

Last night it was vine tomatoes with olive oil, balsamic and a little salt and dried oregano. My eldest devoured them.

As the men feasted upon my tomatoey largesse, I decided to use up some frozen salmon steaks I had picked up on sale, but what to do with them? I decided to bake them. I set the oven to 425 and mixed up

-1/4 cup honey
-1/4 cup yellow mustard
-2 tbsp olive oil
-Pinch each of salt and pepper

I patted the steaks dry, then rubbed them front and back with the above and put them in the oven for the requisite 6-10 mins per inch of thickness. The above was enough for the 4 steaks that came in the package.

What they looked like on the way out

While that was baking, I took out my bags of frozen veggies, which I usually keep at the ready for just these types of occasions. I got a saute pan out, turned it up to high and filled it with the following:

-1 bag frozen corn
-1/2 bag frozen spinach
-1/2 bag frozen green peppers
-1/3 bag frozen onions

and added

-4 tbsp butter (That's right)
-2 chicken bouillon cubes. (You could also use broth if you want to avoid the MSG issue)

It looked so lovely:

Yay!

The water from the frozen veggies helped keep this sort of moist, which was great because if you are like me and your toddler decides that this is the time to go use his diaper and you have to take a break to go change him, your salmon might be a bit on the dry side. If that's the case, you can use the veggies to moisten things up.

Here is the finished product. The whole thing took 25 minutes from making the rub to plate, and it was YUMMY.

Enjoy!

Go to hell, $80 dollar sweater.

I used to be the supervisor of a fairly large language services at a local hospital. When my toddler was a tender three months old and I had been back at work for two days, my Veep asked me upstairs for a meeting. I don't remember the conversation after he told me he had to let me go because I was composing a mental symphony of four-letter words and smiling so I wouldn't get all stabby.

So here I was-previous primary wage earner, source of insurance, laid off with an infant and a tween at home and a husband whose job had frozen salaries three years prior, with no sign of unfreezing them any time soon. Sure I was worried about my house, the bills, the kids' health. I knew it would be hard, and I worried I wouldn't be able to contribute. I thought these were the types of concerns that would dominate my thoughts in the upcoming months. Some days, they were. Imagine my surprise when I also spent significant chunks of time mourning my quarterly trips to the salon, my pedicures and my shoe and Target budgets. I longed for my drive-through breakfasts at Dunkin Donuts and my Sirius radio. I had been so used to being economically secure. I had my youngest in my mid-thirties, not in my insecure twenties. I felt guilty for being selfish. I think that's what the extra X chromosome is for. I was sincerely grateful that like so many, I didn't lose the roof over my head but damn it, I worked hard for my middle-class lifestyle. I was past the stage in my life where I thought I'd ever have to give up my little luxuries. 

Enter the Boston Proper catalog. Props to their printers, who probably work day and night every 365 to churn out 3-4 catalogs a week, making sure I get my fill of new ways to wear faux fur, dusters and ample diet inspiration. Despite some very questionable items, every 2-3 catalogs there is one piece of clothing that I just HAVE TO HAVE. I dog-ear the page, toss it in the magazine pile and when my husband asks if he can throw it away, I wail in the negative and fantasize about how cute I will look in in that____________ once I have a spare $80 to burn. This is my version of window-shopping, except I save myself the exercise. By the time the seasons change, I have gotten bored of the fantasy and I toss out the magazine, therefore saving myself thousands of dollars and justifying my delusion.  Lately I became fixated on this stupid/awesome sweater:

My proportions may vary.

Except of course I don't have a spare $80. If I did I would like to think I'd stop using the boxed color that turns my hair black no matter what shade of medium brown I choose. I might buy rain boots instead of trying to run really fast with snow boots on. We're not on economic level orange like we were two years ago, but an extra child who eats like a middle schooler and a teen who eats like a T-Rex are really depleting my Imaginary Clothing Fund.  Because I'm a mother and I know now what it is like to scrape by, I sort of feel that spare cash could and should be used on winter coats and diapers. What IS that? The money is technically there, but I feel like I have to Judge Judy my reasoning for making such any frivolous purchase. Do men do this? It sucks. My mother's philosophy on money is that if you're able-bodied and still working, put it on a credit card and pay for it later. What if later, you are jobless and considering selling two pairs of shoes on ebay to get a stupid sweater you don't need? I don't want to develop a Depression-era mindset.

I think, "We're doing better. I can afford a bit of a splurge." I even apply the Secret, lest I be accused of negative thinking. The sweater is already mine, I just have to lead it home! I am almost resolved to go for it when I see this on Ravelry:

The "Tatiana" pullover from Interweave Crochet

I think, "Hm, I could do that." I look up the cost of the pattern and yarn, and it's about $35. Of course when all is said and done the time I invest would mean this sweater costs me roughly in the neighborhood of a night on the Mayan Riviera, but I think I'll make the sweater instead. It would be nice to pick the color and it would look good with jeans, which is always a plus. The baby has some hand-me downs from a generous friend. The eldest has told me he doesn't need anything just now. Hubby needs shoes. I can spend the $80 there just as easily, and he never gets himself anything. Maybe we'll eat out on our anniversary.

So I'm interviewing for a new job and if I get it, I hope to be comfortable once more. I hope that someday, I will be able to buy a Coach bag with impunity. I hope to pay someone way too much to shellac my tips with some sort of metallic nail art. Being laid off was a wake up call, but not in the way I thought. I thought it would make me hungry to go back to a power job, be a big earner again. Instead, I listened to the Yoda of Frugality, and I am a better wife and mother for it. He reminded me that the frills I miss are just that, that when times are rough you eat ramen again so your kid can have organic milk. You buy your kid a $50 game because his grades were amazing. You buy your husband shoes because he was loving and supportive during a really sucky time, and you tell the $80 sweater to go to hell.

For now.

If you are a potential employer, disregard the blog name.

A short introduction to how we're both about to waste our time-

I really can be very productive. I make stuff all the time. There are days I can cobble together dinner from a container of mushrooms and an onion. I can do ribbon embroidery.  I have painted a self-portrait.  I made cake toppers for my kid's first birthday all by myself, heavily aided by the interwebz and powered by anxiety and frequent whispered curses. I could probably crochet a car cover if necessity warranted.  I am currently re-doing all the pillows in my living room with patterns I'm inventing.

Thing is, I just never seem to have the free time to finish most of my projects, especially since I decided to go forth and multiply. Motherhood and working Wifehood aren't really conducive to really polishing up my jewelry making skills. My two year old has very little respect for the concept of sorting beads. I know a lot of moms model themselves and their households after the Pottery Barn/Martha Stewart standard and I would LOVE to do that. I get all started on it, then I nap. So: get ready to be underwhelmed, for the most part. In Spanish we have a saying, Guerra avisada no mata gente. No people die in a forewarned war.