Category Archives: food-o-rama

With a Side of Sit Up Straight

by Rima Posted on September 7, 2012

I used to have one of those ubiquitous “Keep Calm and Carry On” posters above my stove, which came in handy whenever I had a kitchen fire or more than two burners going at once. But the poster had been hanging there for so long that instead of keeping calm and carrying on, I found myself looking right past it and freaking out.

I made myself a new poster, inspired by Pinterest. But this one is more for the kids:

It’s 8×10, comes in five colors, and you can download it for free from my Flickr account here.

Happy weekend!

 

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Posted in crafting, food-o-rama, I'm No June Cleaver, picky eater | 1 Comment

The Depth of my Depravity

by Rima Posted on April 2, 2012

The problem with having young children is you just can’t devour a chocolate bar without being noticed.

The other day, I gave my kids a healthy after school snack of apples and wheat germ. Then I planted them in front of an educational television program and scurried back to the kitchen, whereupon I opened the pantry and proceeded to stare inside.

I noticed a chocolate bar.

I took that chocolate bar and began to unwrap it with the stealth of a sniper. I even paused my breathing. The first velvet bite was mere inches away from my mouth when two small humans, about yea big, materialized behind me.

“WHAT ARE YOU EATING MAMA?”

Lickety-split, I tucked that chocolate bar into the elastic waistband of my yoga pants.

“Oh, just some raw almonds. Would you like one?”

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Posted in children, folly, food-o-rama, I'm No June Cleaver, parenting, self-indulgence | 23 Comments

What Happens When You’re Married, With Kids

by Rima Posted on February 13, 2012

Last weekend we joined my friend V and her family at one of those domed structures that houses several pools and slides, not to mention contraptions which spill giant bucketfuls of water on your head every fifteen minutes. It was extremely crowded there, but the children had a blast while I scurried from one end of the waterpark to the other saying, “I swear I just saw him in that treehouse two minutes ago.”

Afterwards everyone was ravenous, but there would be no greasy waterpark pizza dinner for us! We were headed to a nearby winery with an excellent seafood buffet where children are always welcome and reservations are not necessary.

When we arrived, there were so many cars in the parking lot that my friend V and I selflessly volunteered to be dropped off by the front door to scope out a table while the menfolk went in search of a parking spot. For some reason, the restaurant was packed to the eaves with diners conversing in low voices with heads bent together over plates of steamed mussels and bud vases containing a single white rose.

“What is going on here?” I wondered while my friend V fought her way up to the hostess station and requested a table for eight, lickety-split.

The next one would be available on Sunday, July 15th.*

“We’ll be dead by then” I sobbed inwardly while gnawing on a knuckle. I didn’t want my friend V to think I was some kind of a nutritionally-driven wuss.

A strange thing was happening at that restaurant. It was almost as though the entire state of Ohio had decided to eat at the same place on the same night! Did they know something we didn’t?

One thing about my friend V is she never gives up. While our children ping-ponged around the holding area, she continued to stand in front of the hostess until a table miraculously opened up. “I can’t believe you swung that!” I told her as we stepped into the elevator leading up to the attic storage room**, where we were going to eat.

The crab legs, prime rib, coconut shrimp and heart shaped risotto balls were delicious, even if we had to ride up and down a couple of floors every time we wanted to re-fill our plates. We still couldn’t figure out why the restaurant was so darn crowded, but then again northwest Ohio wine country is a pretty up and coming vacation spot.

“This is is just plain crazy,” I said to the P-Dawg as we elbowed our way up to the chocolate fountain with dessert plates of strawberries in hand. “You should leave some room for the Double Chocolate Love Bomb of Love. I hear it’s pretty good.”

Happy Valentine’s Day, everybody! I hear it’s sometime this week.

 

* Where “Sunday, July 15th means “in a few hours.”

** It was a really nice attic.

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Posted in food-o-rama, My Friend V, thirtysomethings, vacations | 9 Comments

The First Shall Be First

by Rima Posted on November 23, 2011

A steady rain was falling and the turkey dealer was late.

I had arrived at the designated spot a good fifteen minutes ahead of time so I could be first in line to stake out my locally raised bird, but now the high school parking lot was filling up with other customers and the turkey dealer was nowhere in sight.

I had his digits with me, so I waited until fifteen past the hour before calling him up.

“Chuck, this is Rima Rama. I am at the location, but there are no turkeys in sight.”

“Oh, hey Mrs. Rama! Are you on the eastside or westside pickup route?”

“I’m at the northwest corner of the Beachland High School parking lot. I am wearing a black trench coat.”

“Yeah, I’m really sorry about that, Mrs. Rama,” Chuck told me. “My guys got held up because of the weather, but they’ll be there any minute, so just hold tight.”

“Should I stay inside my vehicle?”

“Excuse me?”

“Should I stay inside my vehicle, or stand in the designated pick-up spot?”

“You can stay inside your car, Mrs. Rama. We’ll be there in a sec.”

Armed with this knowledge, I secured my purse strap over my shoulder, put my umbrella in launch mode, and sat tight. When the Turkey Truck arrived thirty minutes later, there was a whole parking lot full of impatient customers ready to descend upon it, but I was first out of the gate.

I ran across the lot with the Chariots of Fire theme song playing in my head, splashing puddled water in my wake. People who had arrived much later than I had and who had not sprinted across the parking lot in three-inch heels were all jockeying for position underneath the tiny makeshift tent the turkey dealer set up around me, but I was able to create an impenetrable force field around my place in line (first) with the spiky points of my open umbrella.

“Alright, people, whose first?” the turkey dealer hollered.

I was up in his grill in two seconds flat.

And I was handily rewarded for my tenacity by being given a twenty-pound tom for the price of the scrawny sixteen pounder I had actually ordered, which just proves that the first will actually be first. Of course, I got a hernia hoisting that turkey into the trunk of my car*, but at least I can rest safe in the knowledge that tomorrow there will be enough turkey meat to go around.

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving, everyone, and may your juices run clear!

*Self-diagnosed

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Posted in food-o-rama | 6 Comments

Nobody Puts Rima at the Kids’ Table

by Rima Posted on November 16, 2011

You won’t find me knocking around frozen turkeys by the Butterball display this year. That’s because we’re ordering from our CSA, so there’s a turkey with my name on it still pecking around somewhere in the southern Ohio dirt.

I got to worrying about that turkey. Not about its impending death, but rather, “Did I order a big enough bird?” I asked the P-Dawg if he was sure we’d have enough turkey meat for each person at the table, he said yes.

According to my husband’s calculations, here is how the turkey rations break down:

Adults – 2 pounds each

Kids – 1/2 pound each

Rima – 1 pound of turkey

I have my own special category. “Kid and a Half.”

Well, I immediately turned around and posted this all over Facebook. I was hoping for some righteous indignation in the comments, but what I got instead was a lot of “Bwahahaha LOL that’s hilarious!” instead.

I guess I know now who my friends are.

When I told the P-Dawg that I had aired my grievance, he took offense.

“That’s not entirely accurate,” he answered, “I never said you weren’t an adult.”

“It’s not that I really want it, P-Dawg,” I explained to my husband. “It’s just that I’d like to be given the opportunity, if I so desired, to eat two pounds of turkey meat.”

“I guarantee you won’t leave hungry.”

“Well. I’m not sitting at the kids’ table, I’ll tell you that much.”

What’s more, I’m making it my own personal mission to eat 2 pounds of turkey, at the very least.

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Posted in family, food-o-rama, the P-Dawg | 12 Comments