About the Monkey Bread or Rule Breaking 101

My mother-in-law has a wonderful Christmas tradition. Yes, you read that right. Christmas tradition.

I know it's only June, but there's a story here which applies.

She makes the most fantastic Monkey Bread.

Monkey Bread, for the uninformed, is a beautiful thing. Simply put, it's pieces of biscuit dough dipped in sugar and cinnamon and "glued" together to create a lovely baked, caramel bread ring. Seriously. It's a beautiful thing.

So, back to the Christmas tradition thing and how it applies today...

Eric's mom and Lucy usually make the coveted Monkey Bread the day before Christmas. It's their tradition. Grandma has taught Lucy how to make it, which, I just have to tell you, I absolutely love. I love that they do this together every year. I love that it's a family tradition being passed down through the generations. I love that they share this ritual.The rule is that Lucy and Grandma make the Monkey Bread every Christmas. End of story.

Monkey Bread is, seriously, Twelve Kinds of Awesome.

For Mother's Day this year, the kids offered to make me the breakfast of my choice.

"I wish there was Monkey Bread," I said wistfully. Because, as we all know, Monkey Bread can only be made at Christmastime and here it was only May. *sigh*

You know how, when you're a parent, you say things over and over and wonder if your kids are even listening? I think that one of the most satisfying parental moments are when my kids quote me back to myself.

"Mom, you know, there are no rules." (Let me be crystal clear: I absolutely believe in rules. But I also believe that in order to break the rules, you have to first know how to apply the rules. I usually say "there are no rules" when referring to holiday traditions and expected cultural norms, but that's not important right now.)

Picture the light bulb above my head turning on as the realization slowly hits me. "You mean...I could... have Monkey Bread? For Mother's Day??" (That's right. It was totally a double question mark moment.)

Monkey Bread! And it's not even Christmas! Get out!

There are no rules.

So I had a fabulous Mother's Day breakfast. With Monkey Bread. And I was delighted and oh-so very satisfied.

And there was Monkey Sauce.

The Monkey Sauce was a happy accident.

We had Monkey Bread! And Monkey Sauce! And it wasn't even Christmas! Because there are no rules!

Here's the Darby Monkey Bread Recipe with Lucy's tweaks. And her Accidental Monkey Sauce^®.

Read. And love.

Darby Monkey Bread Recipe (with Accidental Monkey Sauce^®)

INGREDIENTS:

• 1/2 cup granulated sugar
• 1 teaspoon cinnamon
• 2 cans (16.3 oz each) Pillsbury^® Grands!^® Homestyle refrigerated buttermilk biscuits
• Cooking spray
• 1/2 cup chopped walnuts, if desired
• 1 cup firmly packed brown sugar
• 3/4 cup melted butter

1) Pre-heat oven to 350°F. Lightly grease 12-cup Bundt pan with cooking spray.

2) In large plastic food bag, mix granulated sugar and cinnamon.

3) Separate dough into 16 biscuits; cut each into quarters.

4) Shake in bag to coat.

5) Arrange in pan. If you choose to add walnuts, do it now and add in-between the biscuit pieces.

6) In small bowl, mix brown sugar and butter; pour over biscuit pieces.

7) Bake about 30 minutes or until golden brown. The center should not be doughy. 

8) Cool right inside the pan for about 10 minutes.

9) Turn upside down onto serving plate.

10) Pull apart to serve. Serve warm.

Accidental Monkey Sauce^®

INGREDIENTS

• 1 cup brown sugar
• 3/4 cup butter

1) In a small saucepan, melt the butter and brown sugar together until you have a rich, warm sauce. Serve warm. Pour over your finished Monkey Bread. What a happy accident!

By the way, Lucy also made the Monkey Bread with Accidental Monkey Sauce^® for Father's Day. Because, well, you know....

There are no rules. (You may quote me.)

“There are no rules.” -Marta Darby

Thirty.

My girl is 30 years old today. Let me tell you about her...

1. She is the real deal.
2. She has the most beautiful blue eyes you have ever seen.
3. She doesn't like to hear the word, "no."
4. She has a raucous, distinctive, infectuous laugh.
5. She feels things deeply.
6. She is a fiercely loyal friend.
7. She is tenacious.
8. She is oh-so-very funny.
9. She is stronger than she knows.
10. She has tremendous passion.
11. She is fantastically resilient.
12. She is comfortable in her own skin.
13. She can be fierce.
14. She can be tender.
15. She is more Cuban than anyone I know.
16. She has amazing spirit.
17. She is infuriatingly independent.
18. She is much more creative than she admits to.
19. She has a deep and steady faith.
20. She is beautiful.
21. She lights up a room when she walks in.
22. She is warm and sincere.
23. She is brave.
24. She forges her own path.
25. She says "Buenos Dias" and "Good Night."
26. She can dance. Oh, can she dance!
27. She plays a mean timbale.
28. She celebrates. Often. And well.
29. She is fearless.
30. She is my first-born. My cubiche. My comrade-in-arms. My partner-in-crime. My friend.

Amy Jean Jelly Bean is thirty years old today. And there is much rejoicing in the land.

I love you, Mimi. Happy Birthday.

~Mami

***********************************************************

From the Youngest to the Supreme Sibling,

"Amy's birthday is coming, make her something nice."

"Okay" said the youngest, "Something with Cuban spice?"

"No." said mom, (as she often does.)

"Write her a post." "Why?" "Because."

He thought long and hard, about what he could do.

"Miami Heat? Bananas? But she likes drums too."

What could he do, to make Amy happy.

A 'Happy Birthday' is good, but a little too crappy.

"Lucy!" He said, "What do I write?!"

"Post an awkward picture!" "She'll kill me!" "She might…"

"You need something with a theme!"

"Things you have in common?" "A MEME!"

"Early March", he remembered, is when the memes began.

"I need something tropical, perhaps A TOUCAN!"

No Jon. No. A Toucan is bad.

Happy Birthday Amy! I hope this makes you glad.

~Jon

***********************************************************

To Amy, my sister:

I'll stop the world and melt with you.

~Adam

***********************************************************

 My Big Fat List of Things That Remind Me Of Amy

('cuz Mom isn't the only one who's good at making lists!)

- - - FOOD AND DRINK (mainly desserty things) - - -

1. a really really delicious Coke.

2. Nutella (in a vat, of course)

3. Poptarts (the chocolate fudgey kind)

4. Popcorn (but only with...)

5. ...M&Ms

- - - RESTAURANTS - - -

6. Ruby's (for indifferent days)

7. Mimi's (for happy evenings)

8. Pick Up Stix (for party nights)

9. Gulliver's (for Christmas only)

10. McDonald's (for lazy weekend sleepovers)

- - - MUSIC - - -

11. The Surprisingly Good Pussycat Song

12. One of Our Many Car Dancing Songs

13. Remember That Time You Tried to Teach Me Spanish With This Song

14. Best Concert Ever

15. The Smiling Song

- - - TV SHOWS - - -

16. New Girl

17. Smash

18. Our Secret Donut Show (!)

19. The Gilmore Girls

20. The One Feat. Jeff and the Giggle Loop

- - - THE BEST TIMES  - - -

21. Everytime we've texted each other the "reminds me of you" songs

22. The walks we take around the Lago.

23. That time we drove to that one place.

24. Laughing about everything (ermahgerds, food towels, drive-thru moments, and all the rest)

25. Sharing our music, our books, our jewelry and our time.

- - - 5 MORE FACTS ABOUT MY SISTER - - -

26. She buys children's picture books because they're awesome.

27. She makes me laugh so hard that I sound stupid.

28. She gets me.

29.We have a secret language (all the best sisters do).

30. "You may be my half-sister, but I still whole love you!"

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AMYFACE!

Love, Loop.

P.S. This is only small handful compared to the 30,000 memories we have together. But I thought they made for a nice reminder that I love ju bery bery much. ;-)

A Pastelito by any other name...

There are thousands of fantastic restaurants in Southern California. And I'm sure the fair city of Glendale has a bizzillion wonderful eateries. But, if we're going to be in Glendale for any reason, we must always stop at Porto's Bakery and load up on Cuban Provisions.

There's no better Cuban bakery in So Cal.

Lucy, Jonathan and I were in Glendale a few weeks back. So we (of course!) stopped at Porto's. (I'm almost certain it's a state mandate, but that's not important right now.)

And guess what we stocked up on?

Guava Cheese "Strudel?" They can call it whatever they like as long as I can have one with my cafecito.

Wait. One? Who are we kidding?

Bee-ing Ourselves

Spring weather here in Southern California is like no other. The first thing I do when I get up in the morning is open all the windows and doors and let the fresh air in.

This is how the trouble started...

I left the slider in our bedroom open the other morning, and a bee got in the house.

I didn't know that that's what had happened. I just heard Lucy's screams coming from the upstairs bathroom. Jonathan quickly reacted by bolting up there to defend her from whatever impending doom was about to befall her. I lazily called up the stairs, "Are you okay?" (That was so lame. I know. Shut up. If it had been a serious emergency I would have moved much more quickly, but that's not important right now.)

Jonathan came back down in a few minutes with a smug look on his face. "Catastrophe averted," he declared.

And then I forgot about the yelling and the averted catastrophe and I got distracted by whatever it was that I was doing and just got on with my day.

It was much later when I went upstairs to take a shower that I came across this:

Apparently, he had just trapped the Bee Invader between the screen and the bathroom window. He left this post-it up there to let us know not to open the bathroom window until the Flying Trespasser had given up the ghost.

We didn't move the post-it or open the window for a couple of days. Look how obeedient we were!

We just waited until it became a zombee.

(I guess you had to be there.)

My Big, Fat, Cuban Family Photo Op

I'm sure there are lots of obedient people who, when the photographer says, “say cheese!” do so without any problems.

My big, fat, Cuban family? Not so much.

Please enjoy.

My son, Adam and his fiancee, Stephanie.

My son, Adam. My daughter, Amy Kikita. My niece, Katie.

My sister, Helen and her two grandchildren, Daisy and Ben.

My sister, Ofelia and two of her five grandchildren, Frankie and Quinton.

My family: Stephanie, Adam, Me, Eric, Lucy, Amy Kikita, Jonathan. (Please notice that Jon is still posing.)

My daughter, Amy Kikita and my mom, Luza (98).

My four kids: Adam, Jonathan, Amy, Lucy.

Aren't they adorable?

I might just have to frame that last one. Uh-oh! Maybe the problem is with me?*sigh*

Happy New Year from me and my big, fat, (disobedient) Cuban family.

This guy.

I measure the passing of time and events by the ages of my kids. Maybe most mothers do that.

I remember where I was and what year it was because what I remember is that "Amy was still in high school." Or "Adam had already moved away." Sometimes it's "that's when Lucy cut her hair short."

The end of the year and the coming New Year is always bittersweet for me. Jonathan was born on December 30th. And it's always his birthday that makes me feel that time is not so much marching on as it is screaming by.

Still, I'm delighted every day by what a remarkable human being my youngest is becoming. (I would call him my "baby," but that phrase is completely unacceptable and doesn't at all fit him any longer.)

Jonathan is 17 today.

I need to get a slower calendar.

Happy Birthday, my son.

Movember Madness - A Giveaway

I have a husband and two grown sons. Adam is 26 and Jonathan is 16.

Facial hair removal is a constant around here, although I have to admit, it's something that's not really on my radar. They shave. Or they don't shave. I don't really notice...unless it gets too scruffy. Then I'm kind of a mental patient. (I know. Shut up.)

So here came November and the movement across the country called "No Shave November" or "Movember." The original concept was for men to stop shaving for the month of November to call attention to men's health issues. Again, something not on my radar. (Don't judge me.)

Eric already has a goatee. For Jonathan, I think it was more of a case of the I-can-finally-grow-a-beard-without-much-effort time in his life. So he was all in.

But, of course, I'm the mom. The Cuban mom. So there are rules:

1. You can grow your beard, but keep it neat.
2. Keep it out of your mouth. (Ew. I know, right?)
3. Please shave your cheeks so you don't end up going all "Wolfman." (You know what I'm talking about.)

Jonathan decided he could probably do a fair goatee just like his dad.

He was right. Exhibit A:

But every now and then he would start getting lazy. (I guess face-maintenance is a big deal and can be time-consuming, as all personal grooming tends to be, but that's not important right now.)

This is about a 2 day growth and he started looking a little homeless. I wasn't having it.

Around the beginning of November I got an email from Braun. Would we like to test and review one of their products? Specifically the Braun Cruzer Face?

YES, PLEASE! Pronto!

It couldn't have come at a better time.

Jonathan spent the month of November trimming and cleaning up his cheeks, while he grew out his goatee with this little marvel. Mami was happy, he got to keep his man-card and he looked great. Win!

I had to just keep reminding him to use it so we could do a comprehensive product review, of course. *wink, wink*

And so, November has come and gone (almost) without too much can-you-please-shave-that-scruff-or-so-help-me drama. In fact, it was quite enjoyable to see my son looking forward to the ease and comfort of using the Cruzer Face.

He cleaned up that neat little goatee and his skin was baby soft. Thanks, Braun!

Here comes the fun part...

Braun has offered to sponsor a giveaway for My big, fat, Cuban family readers. (Yay!)

Braun CruZer Face and Braun CruZer Beard & Head Shaver Giveaway

I'll be giving away one of each.

The CruZer Face Shaver

and the CruZer Beard & Head Trimmer

To enter the giveaway, please leave a comment on this post for a chance to win either the Braun CruZer Face shaver or the Braun CruZer Beard & Head shaver. Please answer one or all of the following questions:

• Did any of the men in your family participate in the No-Shave November thing?
• Do you like beards/facial hair on guys?
• Do you have a hairy guy in your life who might enjoy either one of these products?
• Are you a good-looking hairy guy? ;-)

Only U.S. entries, please. I'll choose a winner on Wednesday, November 28th, 2012 at 11 am.

Happy Movember!

NaNoWriMo is ON!

For the uninitiated, NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month.(Pronounced "Naa-No-Rye-Moe.")

It's basically Creative Writing on Steroids. The challenge is to write a 50,000 word novel in one month. And so, both amateur and professional writers take to their keyboards and write.

My people have been using the book, No Plot? No Problem by Chris Baty as their guide.

The goal is to just write. Every day. For 30 days. No editing. Get-the-story-out-of-your-brain-no-matter-what writing.

Because we have homeschooled for so many years, this isn't our first spin around the NaNoWriMo block. Lucy already has two manuscripts that she has produced during other 30 day writing frenzies (she has them hidden in a dark vault somewhere, unseen by human eyes, but that's not important right now).

This is the first year that Jonathan is enthused about the project.

They write together. Well, not together together. They usually both sit in the same room, tapping away at their computer keyboards with their ear buds firmly in place. They stop occasionally to inquire about a plot twist or the validity of a character's action. But they keep writing.

Their friends come over for hours of uninterrupted NaNoWriMo-ing. (<--I wonder if that's already been added to the popular lexicon?) It's the best kind of peer pressure I can think of.

Will their novels make the New York Times Bestseller List? Not likely (at least, not without a lot of editing and revision). {Fun Fact: The novel and eventual movie, Water for Elephants began as a NaNoWriMo project.} And, while getting published is maybe their long-term dream, the magic comes in the doing of the thing.

They are writing. At least 1500 to 1600 words a day. They are crafting new worlds. And creating. And honing their storytelling skills. And they are making the time in a culture where a teen's attention is in constant demand.

The creative energy in our home is palpable. This is the part that makes me the happiest.

Of course, if the whole novel writing thing doesn't work out, they could always just start a blog.

An Afternoon in Hollywood (or How to Stress Out Your Overprotective Cuban Mother)

My kids (Lucy, 19 and Jonathan, 16) have been doing homegrown improvisational comedy for years now. I've written about this lots of times. Both of them are quite good. (Yes, I know I'm the Cuban mom and I confess to a certain amount of bias, but they are. Shut up.)

So the following exchange which was initiated by Lucy came as no surprise to me:

• Lucy: Mom, I want to take an Improv class.
• Me: I love that. It's a great idea!
• Lucy: For 8 weeks.
• Me: That's not too long. You should do it!
• Lucy: It's in Hollywood.
• Me: Hollywood, Hollywood? *maintains poker face while freaking out inside*

Disclaimer: I had no objection to her going to the class, even if it was in Hollywood. But I'm a Cuban Mother. I was at least going to go with her to her first class (whether she liked it or not) and make sure there was nothing life-threatening about the place. Nice website does not necessarily equal not-shady. (I know. Shut up!)

Lucy had no objections to us dropping her off and hanging out in Hollywood while she was in class. (Smart decision on her part.) Which is how Jonathan and I found ourselves prowling around thrift stores on Hollywood Blvd. on a recent summer afternoon.

Let me share the highlights...

There were a plethora of characters, of course, on Hollywood Blvd. I especially enjoyed the pairing of Marilyn Monroe with the Incredible Hulk with the Storm Trooper looking on, but that's not important right now.

To kill time, and to distract me from my own wild imagination, I decided to introduce Jonathan to World Famous Pink's Hot Dogs on La Brea that I remembered fondly from my misspent youth in LA. (That, and I was hungry. Shut up.)

The walls are covered with photos of famous folks who have eaten there. Jonathan declared that one day his photo would be on that wall. (He's not egotistical, just goal-oriented. LOL!)

We ran into the owner, Richard Pink, himself. Jonathan explained to him that this photo would be valuable one day when he was famous. (My kids are nothing if not confident.)

All of this was going on while killing time in Hollywood waiting for my 19-year-old daughter to finish her first class and keeping myself occupied and distracted from the thought that I had dropped my 19-year-old daughter off in a foreign place somewhere on Hollywood Blvd. Not quite sure when it happened that she became, not just Lucy, but "my 19-year-old daughter." Where do those crazy-drama-thoughts come from? (I blame my Cuban DNA. I know. Shut up.)

Lucy, in the meantime was texting her reassurance:

• This place is great! Very clean and air-conditioned! (This proved to be quite soothing to my over-the-top-there's-danger-everywhere Cuban mother imagination. According to this logic, air-conditioning is never to be found in seedy places, is it?)
• The instructor is very nice and so knowledgeable!
• The other students are awesome!
• I'm having a great time!
  
• I'm alive! (She totally gets me.)

A good hour before she got out, I made sure we were parked and waiting. (Por si acaso, you know?) I assure you this was me exercising tremendous self-restraint. (I know. Shut up.)

 

I'm happy to report that she lived! And has been going back on her own (I know. Who AM I? Shut up.) and has been thoroughly enjoying the classes.

Apparently, there have been others who have been through this experience and have lived to tell the tale.

I know. Shut. UP!

Thanks, Improv Olympics West for taking good care of my 19-year-old Lucy.

On the stage of the Hollywood Bowl (Pinch me.)

I'm going to write about the Hollywood Bowl today.

Just as a warning - this post may get all emotional and gushy (<--is that a word?) because I LOVE the Hollywood Bowl. I love it so much I want to marry it. There's going to be gushing. And photos. And videos. And more gushing. Yes. It's uber-nerd heaven.

The Bowl is just so thoroughly So-Cal-Iconic. And I am totally enthralled and in love with its rich history. I'm pretty sure my first exposure to the Bowl came from Bugs Bunny in Long-Haired Hare, where he plays Leopold Stokowski. (Yes, I'm nerdy enough to know this stuff, but that's not important right now.)

In case you've never seen it, here you go. Watch. And love.

I happen to agree with Bugs: The Bowl is "acoustically poifect." You're welcome.

Of course, one of the most magical Hollywood Bowl Moments happened in August 1964.

The Beatles came to Southern California and performed in this iconic venue. *insert teenage girl scream here*

*sigh* That's history right there. 

I'll also never forget the magical night I saw Tito Puente and Celia Cruz there. I was massively pregnant with Lucy at the time and thought my child might be a few weeks early because I started having contractions during the concert, and then I was conflicted because it was CELIA and would I really have to leave if I was having a baby? (That last factoid might have been an over-share. Or it falls under their tag line: There's a story in every seat.)

All that to say this: I love the Hollywood Bowl. It is unparalled as a concert venue and during a show you can even see the Hollywood sign peeking out from the next ridge over. It's quite magical.

So you can imagine my excitement when I was cordially invited to "the Hollywood bowl stage for a cocktail party to celebrate the upcoming summer season" by my friends at the LA Philharmonic.

Wait! Did that say "to the Hollywood Bowl STAGE??"

The evening was beautiful in that perfect Spring-evening-in-Southern-California way.

It's always surprising to me that the Hollywood Bowl is in such an accessible spot. "Yay! We're here!"

And to my everlasting delight, the party was ON. THE. HOLLYWOOD. BOWL. STAGE!

Someone pinch me.

So, I start hyperventilating just a little as we walked on to the stage.

The restaurants in the Bowl venue were all beautifully represented. My particular favorite is the Rooftop Grill. Of course, when you go to an event at the Hollywood Bowl, you must plan on arriving early and either bringing or pre-ordering a picnic. The picnic is  a mandatory part of the magic of the experience.

So it was that I found myself with Lucy. Having a picnic. At the Hollywood Bowl. ON THE STAGE. (I may just have to frame this one.)

Wait! Is that Gustavo Dudamel? The conductor of the LA Philharmonic? I may or may not have knocked over a few people to get to him. (My nerdiness knows no bounds.)

He is from Venezuela, and I briefly spoke to him in Spanish (of course) and told him I was Cuban, at that exact same moment a musical piece was playing written by a Cuban. Full disclosure: He was the one who pointed that out. I was in Star-struck Super Fan mode.

"Hola, Maestro! You are my biggest fan!"

Okay, maybe I didn't say exactly that, but I was excited and tongue tied and thrilled to be in the presence of such greatness. By the way, if you live in Los Angeles or the surrounding areas and want to experience classical music in the most engaging way, do yourself a favor and go see Gustavo Dudamel conduct the LA Phil. Seriously.

Let me take a moment from documenting my craziness to tell you about the awesomeness that can be found at the Hollywood Bowl over the summer.

They have THE BEST program for kids called Summer Sounds. I have a friend who religiously takes her kids every summer and swears it's the best thing in town. Watch this:

You can thank me later.

There's way too much fabulousness for me to list here in this one post (please click here for more information) but let me just tell you that we are already looking forward to John Williams (right?!), Ruben Blades (yes, please!), and Placido Domingo, and perhaps even the Grease Sing-a-long. (I have very ecclectic taste in music, okay?)

Did I mention we were standing on THE SAME STAGE where all this amazingness will take place?

I was completely giddy thinking of all the times I had been here and all the amazing acts that have stood on this very stage. So I gushed to Lucy (much like I'm doing to you now) and sighed and laughed out loud. And I pointed to the different seats I had occupied and of course, I told her once again the story of when I thought she might be born prematurely in this same spot because I just couldn't bear the thought of leaving this magical place in the middle of a show.

And then she turned to me and said, "I didn't get it until just now."

Summer can't get here soon enough.

{A special thank you to the Hollywood Bowl, the LA Philharmonic, and alPunto Advertising for a magical evening.}