Polish Apple Fritters and the Polish Housewife

My food heroine strikes yet again!

You should first of all know that I know Lois.  Yes.  You can insert envy 😉

She was a beautiful part of our ladies Bible study for years, as well as making Rich and I beautiful comfort food while Max was fighting for his life in the ICU.

She is as beautiful as the recipes she creates or makes…and I love every one I have ever made from her site!

On top of cooking, however, you can also buy her guide book on Berlin!

This woman is beautifully unstoppable!

Here is what I made Adelyne before school.  I just “whipped” it right up.  To be honest, I kind-of did.  That’s the beauty of her recipes.  Some require the simplest of ingredients and produce the most divine results.

In any case, here is my masterpiece via the recipe of my favorite Polish Housewife:  Polish Apple Fritters.

Hope you enjoy her creation!

(Link in blog below for the recipe to make for your own jolly family!)

Polish Apple Fritters:  http://polishhousewife.com/slodkie-placuszki-z-jablkiem-apple-fritters/#comment-83037

Best Belgian Waffles in the World. Not sure Belgium would agree?

I have to cook a lot for my son at home.

You may find it crazy. I used to. Until I had him.

Him being the cutest little 2-year-old in the entire world. Biased? Definitely YES!

He is a miracle—did you know he tried to die? So many times! Like a ridiculous amount of plenty.

In the womb. Out of the womb.

Crazy boy.

My crazy, crazy boy!

And since the womb and his coma didn’t kill him, he went and got all peanut-allergy-d on me. Making my life just so much more simple.

RIGHT?!

Never! and Not!

And, therefore, since my little stinker is so beautifully ALIVE===I work ridiculously hard each and every day (with his daddy and his big sister) to keep him amongst us!

We are rather fond of our troublemaker. Like. REALLY FOND of him.

He is our Maxie Moo—and we are his family. His earth protectors.

Therefore, we pray each day and night—basically 24/7—for our little man. “LORD, thank you for keeping him alive—help us do right by him!”

And we make him most every single item that goes into his mouth.

Last night for dinner it was WAFFLES.  Let me tell you, they were brilliant!

You should know that we have made lots and lots of waffles since we’ve returned to Poland—but this is by far the MOST SCRUMPTIOUS recipe yet (obviously it’s not mine).  So, I thought you should have a go at it, too.

The alterations I, of course, made:  Rice milk instead of real milk, and we added 1 tsp of real Vanilla.  I do believe the trick is folding in the egg whites.  It really does make them perfectly crisp and delicious.

As we say in Poland, “Smacznego!”  Enjoy your waffles and tell me what you think:

The Best Belgian Waffles (click to go to recipe)

And, because the internet is awhirl right now with the tragic recent deaths of children that have eaten food items from places outside of their homes…I am realizing just yet again and again how scary this Mommy to Max thing is.

Here’s an article so well written and speaks as if it came from my own heart, too:

What Happens When Another Child Dies From Food Allergies?

Here are also a couple articles I have written in the past in regards to my own allergy-living son:

Raising a Nutty Kid

Cooking for Max

You can also read all about his story on his Facebook page that was set up for him when he was in a coma between the throes of life and death here:  Prayers for Max.

Last but never the least—the siblings of the allergy or special children-like Max-often get overlooked.  And yet they strive so gallantly forward with brave faces.  Our daughter, however, broke one day.  Here is a story I wrote after one panic attack she had.  May we remember all in our brood===even though, sometimes, it is so easy to focus on the one that needs the most protection (or the most obvious protection–because the others seem to appear “just fine” on the outside, right?!) :  I forgot to feed my daughter.  And we sent her to a counselor.

Anyhow, as you spring into another day, I hope that you think about making these scrumptious waffles for breakfast, lunch, or dinner—there’s pretty much no bad time to indulge in them!

Here’s the proof:

The oldest, Adelyne!  She approves.  With lots and loads of whipped topping, sprinkled with chocolate milk power on top of the already sweet.  Ah, well.  At least she was fed, right?!

GoGo stuff it in your face girl—until she discovered Sissy’s whipped cream…

That’s when she really went to town on them!

And, finally, the little Moo Man himself enjoying his only Max margarine waffles.  He did not want jam or anything else I offered.  But, to be fair, they are perfect just the way they are!

Max’s glad bites are proof of that!

Try the recipe.  Have some reads.  And come on back and let me know what you think!

As always…

xoxo from here to there!

b

Cooking for Max

When you have a child with life-threatening allergies, you learn to live differently.

And it is not easy.

My son is deathly allergic to peanuts.  But we have found that he reacts to even the touch of other nuts.  Very unfortunately, he also reacts strongly to sunflower seeds.  Not because of an allergy.  Just, most likely, because of the factory where they are processed.

Max is deathly allergic to the smell of peanuts in the air.

On our last airplane journey with him—returning home from Norway back to Poland—we were taking an airline where they offer no service except for paid service.  In other words, a really cheap airline.

The foods that they sell include foods with peanuts.

On the way to Norway, we did not notice anyone purchasing peanuts.  The flight was very uneventful.  And, believe it or not, when you live in Poland, a flight to Norway is also very short.

So our journey to Norway on the plane was great.

Upon return, however, immediately after the customers’ purchases, Max became swollen and red and leaned over to me as if to say, “I CAN’T BREATHE, MOMMA!”

My husband looked at him.  I looked at him.  We had no idea what was taking place when my husband sniffed the air and said, “I smell it.  Peanuts.”

I grabbed Max’s life-saving bag and ran him into the restroom where I basically spent the rest of the flight giving him medicine, watching his breathing counting down the seconds on the clock to the number 20===where I read once that if you make it 20 minutes after an allergy attack, then you can start to breathe easier.  Is this true?  I don’t know.  But when you are a mother to a child that may die due to food or air—it is really nice to have something to grasp.  ANYTHING to grasp.  Hope to grasp.

Poor airline.  Poor customers.  We felt horrible.  Here they just paid for their food and had to close their purchased items and wait to eat them until after the flight.

And, of course, we were scolded.  “We need to tell them AT THE BEGINNING OF THE FLIGHT!”

“Yes.  Of course.  We understand…”

Sigh.  Hanging our heads.  Hiding our son from the general crowd and air filtration system.  Living in the airplane bathroom with shame and fear and all of it wrapped up sometimes into frustration.  Frustration that you have to constantly helicopter your child.  Especially when air or touch can send him spiraling out of control.

And yet you love your child more than you love your very life—and so you hover on.

No one ever said parenting was easy.  Oh, and I should mention that Maxwell is treated as an asthmatic.  Hence breathing problems super serious to start (he is on 3 daily meds as it is).

But that’s not all.  Oh no.

Maxwell is also allergic to milk.  Not in quite the same death-way.  But in a way that also makes it very difficult to maneuver.

He welts at the touch of milk to his skin.  His swells if ingested.  He vomits.  And he has great difficulty breathing, too.

I guess one of the only big differences is that the smell of milk does not bother him.

My coffee is so grateful for that one!

And my husband—because my husband LOVES butter!  So do I.  And freshly whipped cream.  YUM!  And my daughter loves mint-chocolate chip ice cream.

Therefore, I think we are all a bit happy that Max can be air-exposed to milk.

Peanut butter was a hard one for our family to bid farewell.  You may judge and say, “Your child is more important.”

Listen, Peeps.  We laid peanut butter to rest—but it doesn’t mean that we still don’t crave it, okay?!

But having peanut butter in our home made us all live in constant fear.  And, thus, we banned our favorite food friend from our presence.  It was not an easy thing to do.

Anyhow…Cooking for Maxwell is a daily—multiple times a day—chore.  Every food prepared or every item purchased is scrutinized.  Foods are kept separated in the refrigerator.  And we have our 2-year-old son deathly afraid of new food.

And when people offer him food, he has known forever to say, “NO!”

Kids his age don’t understand and cheerfully try and try and try to give it to him.  This eventually sends him running into my arms.  And for that, I am simultaneously sad and grateful.  Sad that he must run.  Grateful that God has given him the fortitude to understand that his very life may depend on his actions.

And, as Maxwell nears 3, we all are getting better at Cooking For Max.

In fact, today, I was a Maxwell cooking machine.

Belgian Waffles for breakfast?  Yes, please and CHECK!

Coconut milk, rice milk, orange juice, banana, apple, and frozen strawberry smoothie to compliment breakfast?  Yes, please!  And check!  (No picture—it was devoured too quickly.  Oops.)

Depression chocolate cake for snack?

  

With freshly whipped chocolate-coconut whipped cream?  Yes, please and CHECK!

Fresh sopapillas for lunch?  And fresh toppings for it (beans, corn, salsa, and more)?  Yes, please.  And check!

And dinner?  Well, something Max friendly will come about—I am just not sure what.  Yet.

How do we do it?

We found the following items to be musts in our home:

Good olive oil.

Good coconut oil.

Fresh popping corn kernels as it is a very Max-friendly snack.

Rice milk.  Coconut milk.  Oat milk.  Max does not like soy milk.

A completely 100% milk free margarine.

Good chocolate that is 100% milk free.

And a huge separation of anything that may touch something he cannot eat.

We use more plates, spoons, and bowls than a small army—as we have to keep all things separated.  He cannot touch his sister’s milk or straw.

He can’t have her chocolate—he has his own.

He MUST ask before he eats anything.

Should I remind you all that he is only 2?  Two.

“It’s a hard-enough life for us kids!” Or is it hard-knocks life?

In any case, as Annie and the gang sing it—It is a hard life.  For all of us.

But we are slowly getting into a Maxwell-friendly system in our home.  We normally have 2 different meals at every 1 meal.  One meal that all 3 kids typically eat.  And one that Rich and I eat.

Jo and Max usually get the exact same foods and probably always will.  Josephine does not even know what cows milk tastes like.

Ada is 9.  So she gets to choose what she wants.  And she even made the choice herself to give up peanut butter—her favorite food ever.

And the internet gets used a lot to help us get creative as we try and cook and feed a kid that has had to grow up a picky eater.

We like cooking.  We like creativity.  We like desserts.

We are just all learning to like it the Max way.

That way we can enjoy life together.  The way it is meant to be.

Together.  Even at the dinner table.

***

Here are where I found today’s recipes.  And if it calls for non-Max friendly items, I just substitute them with his butter or his milk.  Usually you can’t even taste the difference.

Real Sopapillas:  http://allrecipes.com/recipe/real-sopapillas/

Coconut whipped cream:  http://tasty-yummies.com/2014/03/04/make-whipped-coconut-cream/

Depression-era chocolate cake:  http://www.sweetlittlebluebird.com/2013/03/tried-true-tuesday-crazy-cake-no-eggs.html

Best Belgian Waffle Recipe I have found yet:  http://www.food.com/recipe/the-bestest-belgian-waffles-63071

My Spaghetti Sauce and Jesus

(Source for Free Printable of Above Sign)

I have started to do something that I never thought I would see myself doing.

In fact, it really makes me feel like such a grown-up.

You know, when you are younger you always think that there is the magical grown-up age. But, as you grow, you realize that it’s not the age you are === it’s the next big age out there. And then as you reach that age, you realize it’s the next big age.

And, before you know it, you are nearly 80 years old and you still remember having blond hair and smooth skin.

And for some reason, you really feel as if you never really grew up.  Or got a chance to do all of those grown-up things.

Sometimes Richard and I even feel as if we are playing house.  We live in a foreign country, have started a non-profit, and have 3 children and 3 dogs.  And, yet, we feel as if we are still playing house.  That we aren’t really old enough yet to have these responsibilities or do these things.

And we’re very nearly 40.  That’s Over-the-Hill.

Which means I should really consider myself a grown-up.

Anyhow, back to the grown-up thing that I have started to do:  Menu Plan!

Yep.  I am 3 weeks down, and I am LOVING it.  And my husband is LOVING it, and my children are LOVING it.  In fact, my daughter asked the other day for the menu so she could see what her snack options were for that day.

What fun!

Man, you must live a really boring life, you are probably thinking 😉

Perhaps.  It’s a life, that’s for sure.

But this menu thing sure is adding spice to it.

HOWEVER…And my high school English teacher would be greatly disappointed that I just started this sentence with however…However, in my great attempt to menu plan and budget better, I committed a huge No-No!  Huge!

So, on my menu the other day was homemade spaghetti sauce.  It was great.  I sautéed zucchini on the side in a bit of olive oil and garlic.  And then the sauce went something like this:  heat olive oil, add minced garlic, and then add diced tomatoes (no need to remove the skin), as that all simmers together, add some spices of your choosing (I added some chili flakes, salt, pepper, dried spices), and then I added a huge handful of fresh spinach, and as it began to simmer down and was nearly ready to eat, I picked some of my fresh basil and cut and added that for the final flair.

Oooooh, yum!  You shout.

Yes.  It was divine.  The sautéed zucchini and then the homemade sauce.  Both.  Both were divine.  They were spiced, sautéed and cooked to perfection.

And the finale was a fresh salad with some more of that fresh spinach, other mixed lettuces, and fruity toppings, dried cranberries, tomatoes, and pumpkin seeds, topped with a French dressing.

All is looking and sounding good.

But, ah darn!  I went and did something really dense.  Really dense.

I bought the on-sale, already cheap spaghetti.

And when it cooked, it clumped.  It was mush.  And I thought—oh no!  This is it.  After my beautifully prepared dinner, it is going to be ruined by this horribly lumpy, mushy, cheap spaghetti.  Now I know why the Italians buy fresh pasta or make it themselves.  After spending so much time and love on a meal, why ruin it in the end?!

But I had nothing else to serve (after all, with menu planning, you grocery shop efficiently).  And so divine sauce, flavor-induced zucchini, and beautiful salad ready, I served the mushy, lumpy spaghetti noodles.

Our plates were gorgeous.  They looked divine, and the pasta was neatly hidden beneath the beautiful sauce.

But, as I sat to eat, I apologized profusely over and over again.  I said, “Oh, I am so sorry for the noodles.  I hope that they don’t ruin the meal.  I know that I have said it before, but I will say it again and again, I will never buy the cheapest noodles again!”

You know, big sales and cheap products are hard to pass up, especially when you are a family of 5.  Good sales are musts.  But bad noodles should NEVER be a must.

Yet, once again, here we sat to eat what was suppose to be budget and menu-prepared friendly, good-looking and good tasting meal.  Which turned into what appeared to be mushy noodles murder.

My husband.  He barely got home from work at 8pm that night.  He was gone all day.  And he was starving.

Disappointment was etched on his face.  It was probably a mixture of hunger, excitement, weariness, and 3 crazy kids.  And then your favorite meal killed by the noodles.

But he sat there and said not to worry about it.  He was sure my meal was fine.  He said “Thank you” over and over again.

And then we all bowed our heads and prayed for our meal together.

As my husband and I began to eat our dinner, we didn’t have a chance to reflect on the mushy noodles-because we devoured our meal.

The flavor of the sauce was so delicious, with the sautéed zucchini on top, with the side salad and creamy French dressing, we didn’t even remember about the murderous noodles until our plates were practically licked clean.

And that’s when my husband said it, “Your spaghetti sauce is like Jesus…”

“Jesus covers a multitude of sins.  Just like your spaghetti sauce.”

And with the final lick of my plate, I had to agree with my husband…

Jesus + Forgiveness = Redeeming and Great!

Just like my spaghetti sauce.

If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.  1 John 1:9 (NKJV)

Pumpkin-Pie Milkshake.

Last year, I posted about making your own pumpkin latte. Well, I already have all of my pumpkin cooked and ready for all of the fall goodness called divine recipes. So, this year my challenge is for you to try this one out.

I’ll let you know how mine goes, too!

Can’t wait to hear all about it. And please let me know in the comments of your favorite fall recipes. I’m always looking for something new and delicious to try.

xoxo
b

Click the link below to get the recipe from Martha Stewart:

Pumpkin-Pie Milkshake

Click the link below to get the Pumpkin latte from last autumn’s blog:

Pumpkin Spice Latte

Sonoran Living…Hey, I know her!

Wow!  Remember how we linked up to Polish Easter Blogs recently?  Well, what do you know?!  Our very own Polish Housewife, Lois Britton, was on Sonoran Living this morning presenting 3 recipes from her beautifully fantastic food blog.

You should also know, that when Maxwell was in the ICU in his coma, we have personally been served by this Polish-living saint.  And, yes, her food was not just fantastic—it was fantabulous!  It was so good that I made up my own word to describe it.

On top of that, I still dream about her chocolate chip sea salt cookies.

Scrumptialicious!  Another made up word.

Anyhow—it’s a short segment on the internet, but her attached recipes are right below the video.

Perhaps you can become a Polish Housewife, too, and whip up some surowka or chlodnik…or a side of pound cake lemon curd with a little limoncello.  After all, who doesn’t like a little limoncello?!

Enjoy the video…Make the recipes…and Enjoy:  Lois Britton on Sonoran Living

I look forward to hearing about your Polish-cooking endeavors.

xoxo

b

The other half of Crazy!