Category Archives: family fitness

Mr Darcy Eats Graham Crackers in Bed

  By breakfasttobed | December 5, 2012 - 9:13 AM | , , ,
15 Comments

This is one of those mornings where sliding back in bed and staying under the covers with my boyfriend, Mr Darcy, seems like a really good idea.

I mean, who doesn’t love a man who likes his woman to read, amirite, Ladies??

Who says girls in glasses and fuzzy socks aren’t sexy? A fuzzy sock could be very sexy running up a man’s leg!

Ok, that might be a stretch. (If it’s from across the table…BOOM!)

Anywhoooo, mind out of the gutter ladies (and gents who want to be romanced by Mr Darcy…)

I have lost control of my brain. I got precisely 3 hours of sleep and it’s like I’m living inside a coffee fueled LSD trip, and I didn’t even have to purchase or consume the LSD!! I can’t decide if that’s a win or not. If I start seeing pandas running around town giving out free hugs, I’ll call it a win.

My goal for December is to *try* to get the necessary 6-8 hours a night. Granted, I’m an actor who works REALLY odd hours, and I have those children of mine who seem to have an internal clock set to “GOOD JEEBUS IT’S EARLY!!” But I am going to try.

I need to be firing on all cylinders to make the best choices I can. If I’m not sleeping, there’s a good chance you’ll find me at 1 am with Honey Maid graham crackers and coffee, reading the NYT book review and buying pizza ovens off of QVC. (It will make the crust super crusty!!)

Beyond that, I’m starting to get a serious case of “Mommy Guilt” over the sheer number of times I hear myself saying “not now, sugar, Mama’s exhausted.” That’s simply uncool. My kids deserve the full-steam Mama. The homemade waffles and championship tag player, Mom. –You think I let them win? Pshhh, being a gracious loser is an important skill. Besides, they ALWAYS win at Duck, Duck, Goose! I just never see it coming. Flamingos are more my style. And who wants a goose to chase them, anyways? Have you ever been chased by a goose? I have. It’s terrifying. Although, better a goose than a moose..(though a moose once bit my sister!-name the quote and get a cookie)

I was trying to get off the Ambien train, but it appears as though I am going to have to ride that train all the way to the station. Otherwise, my ADHD addled brain just won’t STFU. For some reason, everything I’ve ever needed to do in the history of my life comes roaring back to me as soon as my head hits the pillow. I’ll just remind myself that what happens when you’re on Ambien, you’ll have absolutely no recollection of, but will inevitably be reminded of and laughed at for ages to come.

Last night, when my head hit the pillow, I remembered I never posted that mug cake recipe I promised. Well, my loss is your gain, you scamps!!

Chocolate Banana Protein Mug Cake (of your dreams!)

I know what you’re thinking, “That was baked in a mug?” Yes, and then I cut it up and plated it pretty and ATE IT IN MY FACE.

Chocolate Banana Protein Mug Cake

by Cat Tan

Prep Time: 2 minutes

Cook Time: 2 minutes

Keywords: microwave appetizer bread condiment dessert vegetarian

Ingredients (1 cake!)

  • 1 scoop chocolate protein powder
  • 1/2 mashed ripe banana
  • 2 tbsp egg whites
  • 1 tbsp full fat plain or vanilla yogurt
  • 1 pinch baking powder
  • 2-3 tbsp vanilla or chocolate coconut or almond or soy milk.

Instructions

spray a BIG coffee mug with cooking spray

mix all of the ingredients and pour into the mug

microwave for 2 minutes

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Millard Fillmore: Ghost Hunter

  By breakfasttobed | November 21, 2012 - 9:49 AM | , , , , , ,
8 Comments

I know I know, I haven’t done a WIAW in a long while, but I have been REALLLLLLY busy. I feel like I need to though, because there is a lot of crap going around about “judgement” and other such nonsense. What I Ate Wednesday isn’t about judgement or pageviews or anything like that. It’s about ideas and commiseration. Guess what? Sometimes we ALL have days where we eat like crap, or we barely eat anything, or we eat too much, or we eat just right. I have no ability to produce the hunger hormone, so I have a tendency to either grossly overthink my food, or just go with what tastes good. I try to achieve balance, but with work, and dance, and acting classes, vocal classes, raising my kids, working out, keeping this blog, texting mistresses at midnight, and trying to get time to be alone and read? Yeah, sometimes I screw up. I’m showing you that out of honesty. If you want to judge me for that? Let me let you in on a little secret, a carp can count how many damns I give on his fingers. Zippy. Zippy damns I give.

Here’s what I ate yesterday. Not pictured? An ABSURD amount of dark cocoa dusted almonds. Dear sweet deity of your choosing I love those. Have you had them? Wowzers. In fact, they made up at least half of my dinner meals. (I just snack all day because I get full quickly.)

I had a 1/4 of one of those tartlets up top, mostly so I could share that tartlet and still have enough for Un-Thanksgiving….it’s just like Thanksgiving…only twice as thankful with 100% less syphilis. Oh, and it can be shared with as many foreign people you can fit in your house. I ate an ENTIRE pomegranate, some oatmeal (shocking!!) I had some Ezekiel bread and peanut butter with honey, an orange, brussels sprouts, and cereal. I also had that delicious cherry wheat beer. Do it. For your country. Sam Adams is as American as Perez Hilton and Millard Fillmore.

I also want to talk about playing. Mostly because you all think I just workout for my workouts, which is *mostly* true. Mostly because I don’t consider playing like crazy with my two kids “working out,” in spite of how tired it makes me, which it does.

Reebok was kind enough to send my two bits a pair of shoes each for them to try out. Let me tell you, it couldn’t have come at a better time. They literally came JUST as the Peanut hit a growth spurt and grew out of her sneaks. She won’t take hers off, nor will the Captain. He is convinced that they are the “fastest sneakers ever” and they glow in the dark so he can “find all the ghosts.” (We may or may not have just read “A Christmas Carol”) Apparently, the sneakers also make ghosts corporeal so he can kick them back to the afterlife. I think Millard Fillmore wants in on the action. (just don’t tell him he’s dead too….it’s like a “Sixth Sense” kinda thing.)

The sneakers are adorable and flexible which is the MOST important thing with kids, and especially toddler shoes. The Captain has worn his every day for a month, and they still look great…even after I had to clean hurricane mud from them, they look great.

She loves her zigs

She really loves hers because they have velcro, and she’s highly entertained with elastic velcro.

Perfect for Brooklyn errands!!

Literally, that is him “modeling” the shoes. Could you die?

Speaking of food, you’d like a recipe you say? Oh, I can do that. How about dark chocolate almond pie tartlets?

Please, please, please follow this recipe to the letter, if you use milk chocolate, it will be too sweet. If you don’t use salted almonds, it will be too sweet. If the almonds aren’t roasted, it will be bland. If you use margarine, you do so at your own peril. Just make it as it’s written, and no one gets hurt.

Dark Chocolate Almond Pie Tartlets

Imagine a pecan pie…made of almonds….with DARK CHOCOLATE

phyllo dough is better than pie crust

 

 

Dark Chocolate Almond Pie Tartlets

by Cat Tan

Prep Time: 20 minutes

Cook Time: 20 minutes

Keywords: bake dessert

Ingredients (10 tartlets)

  • 1/2 cup brown sugar
  • 1/4 cup Lyle’s Brown Rice Syrup or light corn syrup
  • 3 tbsp butter+3 more for phyllo prep
  • 1 cup chopped, roasted, salted almonds
  • 1/2 cup chopped DARK chocolate
  • 2 eggs
  • 1 tbsp vanilla
  • 4 sheets phyllo dough

Instructions

preheat oven to 350F

for the filling

bring syrup, brown sugar, 3 tbsp butter, and vanilla to simmer over medium heat, stir in nuts

remove from heat

in a separate, heat proof bowl, whisk eggs

TO TEMPER THE EGGS and not SCRAMBLE them

pour a few tbsp of the syrup mixture into the eggs and whisk fiercely until all of it is combined.

for the crust

cut WITH A VERY SHARP KNIFE OR SCISSORS in a stack, the phyllo into 6″ squares

place 3 pieces of phyllo into a muffin tin indent, buttering between each layer, all the way to the edges

pour nut mixture into phyllo cup 2/3 full

bake for 20 minutes or until set on top.

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Steinbeck Would Hurl Apples at Honey Boo Boo

  By breakfasttobed | September 11, 2012 - 9:27 AM | , , , ,
5 Comments

It’s September 11th. I am not going to go into a long story about the anniversary today. I’ll simply stop, and say thank you to so many who served my city, and my country, on that day, and the days that followed.

On to happier subjects. Zippity doo-dah happy. Michael Fassbender shirtless, and serving me wine happy.

Yesterday, I took my ittybits APPLE PICKING. It wasn’t too hot. It wasn’t raining, or tornadoing (new word-use it.) It was the perfect, early fall, breezy cool day. The orchard smelled of ripened fruit and cider, and neither one of my babes smelled like the public bathrooms in Times Sq. It was a good day. Before you tell me your children never smell like that, I am telling you you’re a big fat liar liar pants on fire. Firepants.

Whenever we go apple picking, the Captain takes off at a dead run to the orchards. He leaps between the rows like some sort of primate. He gives my “other imaginary, shirtless, wine server”, Oscar Pistorius, a run for his money. He finds all the best low-hanging fruit; not unlike the Bravo network or TLC. Just like Bravo and TLC, when he’s devoured all the good bits, he leaves behind only the sad, and rotten core.

He may or may not have had FIVE apples since we went picking. Every apple he’s eaten, he’s declared “THIS IS THE BEST ONE I’VE EVER HAD!” He asked me to bring 2 apples at pre-k pickup time. He wanted to bring one for his teacher. He wants me to make apple pancakes. This kid is apple crazy. Thank the gods, because we picked a BUSHEL. That’s the equivalent of roughly a fricken shit ton of apples. It’s a very precise measurement.

Let me tell you something else about apple picking…it’s hard damn work. We walked FIVE miles in and about the orchards, carrying kids, apples, cameras, the weight of our ineptitude…Whoa. Steinbeck was right to portray the Joads as farmers. I cannot imagine more back-breaking work. It makes me seethe when I think of $.89/lb fruit. The labor is worth SO MUCH MORE. I did nothing more than pick the damn fruit, and I was starving and beat by the time I was done.

Seriously, the next time you complain about $2.49/lb honeycrisp, go pick a few bushels. You’ll shut up pretty dang quick.

This is happening.

That didn’t stop me from baking with my fresh apples at midnight.

There are a LOT of festivals, harvest parties, Chinese Moon Harvest parties, and Rosh Hashanah parties coming up. The cop and I tend to get invited to about 1111887474 of these. Bringing something apple or pumpkin just seems “right” to me for these things.

Last night I tested and LOVED a new apple recipe. It is PERFECTION for any of the aforementioned parties. Apple honey cake made with homemade applesauce, coconut oil, and whole wheat flour. Could you die?

Apple Honey Cake

Apple Honey Cake

by Cat Tan

Prep Time: 1 hour

Cook Time: 1 hour

Keywords: bake bread snack dessert kosher vegetarian

Ingredients

  • 2 cups whole wheat flour
  • 2 eggs
  • 2 tsp baking powder
  • 1/2 tsp baking soda
  • 1/2 cup honey
  • 1/2- 1 cup raw sugar (depending on preference)
  • 1/2 cup coconut oil
  • 1 cup chunky applesauce (I made homemade)
  • 1 tsp vanilla
  • 1 tbsp cinnamon
  • 1/2 tsp clove
  • 1/4 tsp allspice
  • 1/4 tsp mace

Instructions

Preheat oven to 350F and grease a loaf pan.

whip together oil, eggs, sugar, honey and applesauce

add in vanilla extract

sift in dry ingredients, folding gently.

bake for 55-65 minutes or until a skewer inserted in the center comes out clean.

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Misogynists in Tiny Pants.

  By breakfasttobed | September 6, 2012 - 10:17 AM | , , , , ,
13 Comments

Ahhh election years…aren’t they grand? The inevitable unfriending of people on facebook, the rhetoric, the super nifty “flair”. I do love a button, you know. Mostly though, it’s mostly two dudes, talking around in circles, repeating themselves until they’re blue in the face.

So you escape to the blogosphere, and find me; a snarky sort who really enjoys sugar, long walks on the beach, fighting off Daleks, and cucumbers. Obviously, I’m quite the head-scratching destination. Don’t worry, I don’t have lice or anything.

But I do want to mention one teeny weeny little political thing. I think it crosses all political lines, cuts to the core.

When I went to school, we had art once a week, and music once a week, we had gym three times. It was my most loathed time of the day. My elementary school gym teacher was a misogynist asshat who wore too tight shorts, and a too deep scowl. Surprisingly, he wasn’t one of the THREE teachers I had who later went on to jail for things that would make you puke, or garner you a movie made for TV. *Pretty blonde teacher women apparently aren’t as disgusting…oh wait, yes they are.

Anyway, gym class wasn’t fun. It wasn’t often. I didn’t grow to love activity, I grew to loathe it.

I faked injuries, stood silently in the outfield praying a kickball never made it to me. I never wanted to be called on, and subsequently rarely was.

The “Let’s Move” campaign does what my elementary school gym classes never did, it focuses on the “fun”. It’s not about games where the theatre geek is picked last, and cannot possibly hope to catch the mother loving dodgeball, because she is CLEARLY busy living in the world inside her head. Of COURSE it’s going to beam her so hard in the legs it leaves a welt.

Our country is FAT. That’s the cold, hard truth. We just are. We eat too much, we sit too long, we sleep too little. We are our own worst enemies. We are depressed because we are fat, we are broke because we are fat, we spend untold millions on treatments for type 2 diabetes, liver disease, heart failure, heart disease, cancers, and a fair bit on anti-depressants.

There is nothing I want more for my kids than to be healthy and happy. There is nothing I want more for kids in general. I want them to play, I want them to move, I want them to embrace eating healthful foods. For this, I really appreciate the FLOTUS’ “Let’s Move” campaign, and her drive to get kids digging in the earth, planting their own foods. It’s a beautiful idea, and I hope it flies.

On another note, don’t even get me started on our country’s need for more of the arts in our classrooms, but that’s a topic for another day.

Speaking of schools, the reason I was so late in posting today, was this…

It was the Captain’s first day of PreK. He picked out his outfit that his “Aunt Emmie” got him.

I could lie and tell you I wasn’t crying as I was pouring his soymilk this morning, but that would be a lie. I may or may not have looked like I’d sprung a leak from my head. He’s just getting so big. I can hardly believe it. He is a walking, talking, human person. He has ideas, and dreams, and desires that are unique to him. He is the best of my husband and me, yet entirely himself. I am more and more proud of him every single day.

For his breakfast before school, I made him apples, pumpkin cream cheese spread/dip, and a kind bar (per his request). Trust me when I tell you that once you make your own pumpkin cream cheese, the stuff in the tub will taste of plastic and sadness.

The recipe for Pumpkin Cream cheese is so simple, you don’t need a printable recipe. For every 8 oz of SOFTENED cream cheese, you need 3/4 of a 14 oz can of pumpkin puree, 2 tsps of pumpkin pie spice, and 2 tbsp maple syrup. THAT’S IT. Please, never buy that other crap again.

You Don’t Want Keyser Soze’s Sun Salutation.

  By breakfasttobed | July 23, 2012 - 8:50 AM | , , ,
12 Comments

Today, a food blogger’s nightmare happened. My pictures were uploaded incorrectly into my computer, deleted off of my camera, and now they’re gone. Poof. Into the ether. I stayed surprisingly calm. I think that it was mostly because my son was telling me all about how he wants to see a monster with “big eyes, a round tummy, and tiny wings.” I have no idea where he got this idea, but he was pretty insistent that it exists. When your four year old has you giggling, it’s hard  to get mad about pictures of stuffed mushrooms.

Yesterday was my active rest day. Generally, it’s my least favorite day of the week. As I have said before, I run to keep the crazy at bay, and to help me from being consumed by my ADHD. Yesterday however, was bliss. The family and I headed out to hipster heaven: Rockaway Beach in Queens, and did our best to prevent the peanut from eating a bucket’s worth of  sand. We weren’t entirely successful. What in the hell makes kids think sand is a good thing to eat? Is it the same thing that draws adults to eat meat on the bone? Because, really? They’re both equally unappealing to me.

The crazy thing is that after running back and forth to the water for a few hours, dodging old, half-naked men with chest hair long enough to require styling products, walking to the grocery store more times than I should have had to, and then trying out a yoga dvd, I was EXHAUSTED. I barely held my eyes open to watch “True Blood” (there was no Alcide nudie pantsedness this week, so it was harder to manage)….By the way, Bex assures me that I do not need to start eating placenta, chanting in a dead language to the ghost of Bob Marley, or neglect shaving under my arms to do yoga. I just have to be willing to contort into odd positions and wear yoga pants all day..DONE. Apparently, eating placenta is optional, and you can chant to any deity or dead rock/reggae star you wish.

Can I chant to coffee? Does thinking about caffeine whilst your meant to be centering yourself defeat the purpose? Can I do yoga while watching “The Usual Suspects”? Is it bad if I already did? I think Keyser Soze likes pigeon pose the best.

The sheer level of my exhaustion last night, and the ease at which I arose this morning drilled home a basic truth to me; all movement is exercise. It doesn’t need to be running or MMA or pole dancing, it can be digging holes in the sand with the Captain and the Peanut, and then walking all over G-d’s green earth looking for specific ingredients for stuffed mushrooms that you’ll eventually lose the pictures of. They both worked up a sweat, and both were curiously more fun than the days I want to spear myself in the eye with a compass while on the elliptical. (I really want to add a very nerdy, and cheesy joke, but I’ll refrain. You already know I have thing for studying medical anthropology…I don’t need to compound my nerdom.)

I always say “Sweat a little, a lot”, and sometimes I forget my own message. Sometimes I have to sweat with my little ones to remember it. So, while I’m back to pretending to be chased down the road by a group of possessed Amish people carrying hammers for 9 miles tonight; it’s good to remember that sometimes, the tyrants at home are the best ones to keep your heart rate accelerated. If I really want a boost, I can always just pick a fight with the cop. I EXCEL in that. I really shine. Truly. It’s a gift.

How was your weekend?

How did you spend it?