This week the local grocery store had a good deal on beef tenderloin steaks that was too good to pass up.    We don’t each much of what I refer to as “hardcore beef” at our house.  By hardcore I mean large helpings of the well known cuts, filets, porterhouse, strips, etc.  We usually cut beef up into smaller pieces and mix with pasta, stir-fry, salads, or something like that. Frankly because these days the service cuts of beef, and pork (the other white meat) are much more affordable.  Even with the tenderloin steaks we had last night, the four of us split two 5-6oz cuts. 

As always, we were running short on time for dinner, so the plan for the tenderloin steaks was a very basic.  The beauty of a tenderloin steak is it doesn’t take much enhancing to get a great flavor.  It’s probably the most naturally flavorful cut of beef.  So I simply sprinkled a little garlic powder, salt, and pepper on each side, and seared it real good, about 3 minutes on each side, in a red hot pan.   The two steaks, in the skillet, were finished off in the oven for about 8 minutes at 375.  The plan was to do a nice reduction of burgundy or Marsala deglaze, but, oops, I forgot! 

For a side we had about 2.5lbs of red potatoes in the pantry, and some green cabbage that if it wasn’t used last night, wasn’t going to get used.  The potatoes were boiled for about 15 minutes, during that time I also diced about 4 cups of cabbage and 3/4 cup of onion, and sauteed them in butter until nice and tender.  When the potatoes were nice and soft, they were drained off, and mashed with 1/2 cup of milk and some salt and pepper.   My riff on Irish potatoes was finished by stirring the buttery cabbage into the mashed potatoes.

We needed a vegetable.  I was going to steam a bag of frozen broccoli, but the boy, already getting wind of the cabbage in the potatoes, was readying his fit for having more green stuff than he could handle.  Since the day had been long enough already,  I succumbed to opening a can of corn, enhancing it with butter, salt, and pepper.

We’re paranoid freaks about the kids choking on their food, and so cuts of meat are usually cut up for the kids into micro-diced pieces.  Tonight though this turned out to be an unnecessary concern as the steaks were so tender the knife easily tore the beef tore apart.  The tenderloin steaks tasted fantastic.  The boy ended up inhaling all his steak, looking for more, but the wife was joining us late and we had to save some for her.  The girl, she ate some of the steak without turning her nose up at it, and then proclaimed, “I’m tired”, after a few bites of corn.  That usually means, I want attention from not eating my meal.   In our house the kids have to try everything, so she was not allowed to leave the table until she tried a spoon of potatoes with cabbage in it.  She was not happy about this, but soon remembered Daddy doesn’t lose.  Already with a pre-disgusted expression, she tasted the cabbage only to verify the expression on her face.  And with that bite of forced nutrition, no matter how insignificant, she was free to go.

As for the potatoes, they were very good.  Judisious amounts of butter, like pork fat, seem to make everything taste good.  (Hmmm…. bacon would have been a good addition to the cabbage potatoes!)  The boy said he really like them, despite protesting, “Dad!  Why did you have to put cabbage in it?”  He did his level best to eat around the cabbage, but his ”green stuff” radar failed to track every piece.  The expression of surprised distain as he chewed the potatoes occassionally crunching down on some cabbage was hilarious.  In the end, the boy managed to somehow eat around most of the cabbage leaving his plate littered in cabbage pieces.

When the wife finally made it to dinner, she proclaimed the steak was just perfect.  She said the potatoes were very good, but I got the impression her Italian blood wasn’t overwhelmed by the subtle (some say bland) flavors  of Ireland.

In our house the kids noses get turned up by any suggestion of a meal served with fish that doesn’t involve tuna from a can.  It is unfortunate for the wife and I as we are big fans of the tilapia.  Perhaps some would say it’s fortunate for us, because it’s more for us!  The thing to really like about tilapia is it’s mild, slightly sweet taste.  For someone such as the wife, who is turned off by the strong “fishy” taste of many popular catches it’s something she finds very enjoyable.  Even better is the fact that tilapia is considered a “clean fish”, free of seeped toxins, is not at risk of being over fished, and like most fish is really, really nutritious.

So anyway, last night on short notice for dinner I whipped out about 6 small frozen tilapia fillets, and thawed them in the sink.   I hit them with a little salt and pepper, and cooked them over medium-high heat for about 90-120 seconds on each side.  At the same time, I fired up the broiler, and threw a couple tablespoons of flaked coconut on a cookie sheet, and put them under the broiler for all of 30-60 seconds, at the most.  Just long enough to get the ends of the flakes a nice toasted singe.  Put the fish on a platter, and topped them with the toasted coconut flakes.

To go along with the fish I made 3 cups of white rice, and popped a bag of those frozen mixed steamed vegetable thingies in the microwave.  Plated the rice, the steamy mixed veggies, topped with the coconut fish, and sat the family down to eat.  The wife loved it.  The daughter, well, she was in a mood, (that ended with her skipping dinner going to bed.) The boy picked out all the veggies, and the “ewe”, “icky” soft carrots, and made his way to asking for thirds, at which point he was stopped and forced to eat a handful of baby carrots first.   I thought the sweet coconut just melted into the sweetness of the fish perfectly.  It was great.

When the kids’ bedtime rolls around–and in our house that means eight o’clock, I am ready for them to go to sleep. The key word here is I, as in “I am ready”.  My children, they, are not ready to go to sleep.

While we are fairly strict about bedtime, we do allow them to read in bed. My daughter usually falls asleep right away, but my son is another story. If allowed, he’d stay up until midnight reading. 

Yesterday, my son came home from school ready to make up for all the time he was cruelly forced to sit at a desk and learn. He informed me that desk time cut into recess time. As a result, he and his friends were denied from playing Star Wars for an indefinite time period. So he bundled all this extra energy and brought it home. One minute he was jumping off his loft bed, claiming he was using his escape pod; the next minute he was outside doing something that irritated his sister enough for her come in and play by herself. Later the two of them were in the basement, my son chasing my daughter with his light saber. Eventually, my little Jedi was pretty worn out. By bedtime he was calmer, but he still had reserves of energy that could push a tired mother to tears. Of course, he claimed he wasn’t tired because of the “force”. His heavy eyes told me another story. In between yawns, he begged me to let him read just a few pages of one of his favorite space books. I agreed. We said our prayers; I kissed him goodnight; and then I left him reading about astronauts, rockets, moons, and faraway planets.

With both kids in bed, it was time for me to play catch-up: fold the wrinkled clothes that sat in the dryer all day, lay out clothes for the morning rush, return phone calls, and finish kitchen clean-up. Finally, I sat down to read. About half-way into a chapter, I went to check on my son. When I got near his room I could see the light under his door. I was irritated to say the least. It was now after nine o’clock, and I knew we were in for a rough morning if he was still awake. Bracing myself for an argument about the merits of staying up late, I opened the door.

The peaceful little guy, who lay sound asleep in his bed, didn’t remotely resemble the tornado-like energy that had claimed our house only a few hours earlier. On his chest, his book lay open, moving up and down rhythmically with his breathing. One of his spaceships sat precariously close to the edge of the bed. In his hand, he held one of his astronauts. This was definitely a mommy-moment.

I stood over him wondering. What imaginary scenario had he been playing? Was he pretending to be an astronaut who went to the moon? Was he pretending to be the first human to land on the Red Planet? (He had been reading about Mars earlier in the week.) What was he dreaming now? I hoped the dream was filled with all his happiest and most fantastical imaginings. All in the same moment, I was thrilled and sad–thrilled with his ability to dream, and sad that life might someday bleed him of that gift.

Earlier this week, USAToday had an article about Rhode Island law forcing public schools to teach about dating violence.  The law requires students be taught to identify and react to signs of domestic violence.  I think this is a good thing, all kids should learn how to identify and deal with tough and dangerous situations.  We just need to be careful how we do it, and be wary of the unintended consequences.

My daughter is only 4, but I know in what will seem like no time at all, boys will be ringing the house, and knocking on the door.  However, I have concern over a law like this teaching girls that all boys are violent, obsessive, sex crazed beasts should they ever find themselves alone with one.  Although it may be true all boys are sex crazed beasts, there is something uncomfortable about this.  Are we teaching the girls don’t ever be alone with a boy because they will abuse you?   Additionally, the boys are sitting through these same classes.  What are they being taught?  Are they be emasculated?  They are basically being told if they get alone with a girl, they’ll become like a werewolf at the sight of the moon.

On the other hand, what responsibility do the girls have?   The story is about a law that was born out of the death of Lindsey Burke at the hands of a jealous boyfriend.  So I’m certainly not trying to minimize the responsibility of the boy.  Boys are overwhelmingly responsible for committing domestic abuse, the girls should be taught their behaviour matters.  They need to understand how they present themselves could be reflected back to them in an undesirable way.  Just like we’re all taught to be aware of our surroundings walking down a dark street at night, girls should be aware of their environment.  Someone should be teaching them if you dress like Brittney Spears, or act like Paris Hilton, you are walking down that dark street with your eyes closed.  It’s just not a smart thing to do.  They are temping the raging hormones of boys when they start grinding their butts into the pelvises of boys on the dance floor.

In the end, it’s a good thing we’re talking about these things, I just pray we are careful in the way we are doing it.