Marriage advice from the Hungry Dog

Today I attended a bridal shower for my friend, Jen. It was a lovely affair, with Spanish food and plenty of sangria. To create a scrapbook for Jen before her big day, the hosts asked each guest to fill out a card that finished the sentence, "If I could give you one piece of advice about marriage, it would be..."

Well, that's a puzzler. People want different things out of marriage. Some want undying passion. Others might want a house and the promise of a comfortable life. Some just want the assurance that they won't be alone. Most of us want a combination of the three, with a bunch of other stuff thrown in. There's no formula for a happy marriage.

Plus, over time, things can change. You might live in different places, have lots of jobs, and welcome any number of children and pets into your lives. You may be tested by illness, infidelity, or financial woes. It's impossible to prepare for marriage, since marriage is just two lives tethered together as the days roll by. Who can know what the future will hold, or how either of you will embrace it?

The main piece of advice I can think of, which is both dumb and true, would be, Pick the right person. What I mean is, pick the person who is already who you want them to be. Don't marry someone that has any significant qualities you wish were different or that you hope will change. Newsflash, folks: people don't change much.

Of course, that's not useful advice by the time you're a few weeks out from the wedding. Presumably, you've gotten that part right. So for Jen's scrapbook, I settled on: Always remember what drew you to each other in the first place. The routine of life can wear away at love, but if you can continue to enjoy the qualities you initially found so charming in each other, you've got a good chance at a long and happy marriage.

I was reminded of a third one when considering a dinner I made last weekend.  I had rustled around in the fridge and unearthed a few ears of corn, some grape tomatoes, and a bunch of chives. The combination cried out for a risotto, its flavor deepened by shallots and a splash of white wine.

The risotto was delicious on its own, bursting with the flavors of summer. But the husband doesn't enjoy a big bowl of risotto, unless it happens to come studded with prawns or scallops or something else of the animal variety. So I decided to top it with a little bit of...

pork chop.

The husband was very pleased with the dinner, which in turn pleased me. And, as you know, I'm a fan of pork in all its forms, so it wasn't exactly a sacrifice. Except for the pig, I guess.

So, I guess my third piece of advice is: Do nice things for each other. Often. After all, you chose each other out of all the people in the world. Make it count.

What say you, readers? Any marriage advice to share with the masses?

My very own Pancake Breakfast

As you know, I'm deeply, deeply obsessed with the TV show "Friday Night Lights." It has nothing to do with football, everything to do with the great writing and acting, and a little to do with one Tim Riggins. And sometimes it has a tiny bit to do with food.

"FNL" (as it's called in our house) is set in the fictional Dillon, Texas, so BBQ is big. There are quite a few references to ribs and pulled pork, which never fail to make my mouth water. Even seeing the sundaes served up at Dillon's Alamo Freeze make me want to ditch fancy city ice cream for the pleasing, symmetrical swirls of soft serve topped with jimmies.

The other food frequently referenced is pancakes--specifically at the Pancake Breakfast, an annual fundraiser for the Dillon Panthers.

If you know me, you know I'm not really a breakfast food person. I don't like eggs, and am not too keen on pancakes or waffles. French toast I can get behind (although apparently I don't know how to make it). But for the most part, I'm a toast, bagel, or baked  goods girl: give me a good scone or muffin and I'm happy.

Since watching "FNL," though, I've latched onto the idea of a Pancake Breakfast. Because the show is in the midst of its fourth season and the subject of a great deal of conversation in the Hungry Dog home (the husband is equally obsessed, due to one Lyla Garrity), pancake breakfasts have been on my mind. On Sunday, I decided to have one of my own.

Pancakes are no big deal, but I've never made them from scratch. Turns out they couldn't be easier. I used Mark Bittman's recipe and threw some cinnamon, cardamom, and blueberries into the batter. I served up stacks of them, smothered in maple syrup, with an extra handful of berries tumbling over the top. With a couple of strips of bacon on the side, I may officially be a pancake convert.

Pancakes
Adapted from Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything

2 c. flour
1 T. baking powder
1 T. sugar
cinnamon to taste
cardamom to taste
1/2 t. salt
1-2 eggs
1 1/2-2 c. milk
2 T.  butter, melted and cooled
1 c. blueberries

Whisk dry ingredients together in a  large bowl. In a smaller bowl, combine milk, eggs, and butter. Mix the wet ingredients into the dry, being careful not to overmix. Don't worry if there are some lumps.

Heat up a griddle and melt some butter over medium heat. Ladle pancake batter onto the griddle, whatever size you like. After they've cooked for a minute or two, drop some blueberries onto each cake. When they are nicely browned on the bottom and bubbly on the top, flip and cook for another 3-4 minutes on the other side. Serve with butter, syrup, and more berries.

Pan-roasted chicken with tomatoes and olives

While there are advantages to being the younger sibling (parents are more lax, you don't have to babysit anyone, and you can usually learn from your older sib's social and fashion mistakes), there are disadvantages too. For one thing, you're rarely the first to do something. You pretty much have to watch your older sibling give something a go, and then later, sometimes much later, depending on your age difference, try it yourself. Second, hand-me-downs. And third, your tastes are often overrun by your older brother or sister.

My sister was very nice to me growing up, especially considering that we are four years apart and she could have completely ignored me. Rather, she would frequently include me when she and her friends played together. Our favorite activity in elementary school was dressing up as vampires and roller skating around the neighborhood--a game wittily named, you might have guessed, "Roller Skating Vampires." Since I was the littlest, I was cast as Baby Vampire, a role I like to think I played with great aplomb.

But she did dominate me in the food department, particularly when it came to pizza. We would always,  always get olives and salami as toppings.

I don't know why I didn't speak up more, but I never liked either olives or salami. I would have much preferred sausage or mushrooms or even what passed for exotic in the 80s--Hawaiian pizza bearing canned pineapple and Canadian bacon. So for many years, probably until I reached junior high, I did not like pizza, because I associated it with olives and salami, two ingredients I found overbearingly salty.

I did eventually come around to pizza, but it took me longer to like olives and salami. Salami, I realized at some point in high school, was pretty good, but only cold. I still don't like it hot. Olives began to interest me in my 20s, when I discovered there were actually countless varieties, the majority of which are not shiny and black, and do not come in cans.

Now I eat olives all the time. I like mild, pale green ones stuffed with blue cheese, inky purple kalamatas, and my favorite: wrinkled oil-cured olives. They are delicious plain, or served alongside some Cowgirl Creamery Mt. Tam cheese. Or, they provide a fabulous, salty bite to pan-roasted chicken with rosemary and cherry tomatoes.

Pan-roasted chicken with rosemary, cherry tomatoes and olives
Adapted from Marcella Hazan's Marcella Cucina

8 pieces of chicken (I use thighs)
2  T olive oil
2 t. minced rosemary
4-5 whole peeled garlic cloves
1/4 t. red pepper flakes (or to taste)
1/2 c. white wine
24 cherry tomatoes
12 oil-cured black olives
salt and pepper

Sprinkle both sides of the chicken with salt and pepper.

In a large skillet that can accommodate all the chicken pieces, heat oil, rosemary, and garlic over medium-high heat. Once the rosemary and garlic begin to fry, add the chicken pieces, skin-side down. Brown well on one side, then turn and brown the other, about 5 minutes per side. Add red pepper and toss the entire contents of the pan.

Add the wine and scrape the pan as it bubbles away. Turn the heat down to low, cover the pan, and cook for about 25-30 minutes, stirring occasionally. If at any time there seems to be insufficient liquid, add a few tablespoons of water.

When the chicken is done (it should be nearly falling off the bone, according to Marcella, although I stop cooking it before it reaches this stage), add the tomatoes and the olives. Cook for another minute or two until the tomatoes burst. Serve at once with rice or polenta.