Nesting: The Italian Way

I have begun to Nest. But, of course, true to form, I'm not nesting the way everyone else nests. As Frank Sinatra once said, "I did it my way", and that holds true to almost everything I do. In this case, I think I have invented an whole new way to Nest: The Italian Way.



For those of you who don't know what the term "nesting" means, it tends to refer to a time when pregnant women begin puttering about the house arranging their "nest" for the new arrival. Whether it be folding, rearranging, refolding, re-rearranging, and folding once again the baby clothes, going on a cleaning binge (ha, that would never be me), rearranging the baby's room, and everything else involved with creating a "nest", that is what "nesting" means. Pretty obvious when you think about it.

I actually underwent the traditional Nesting process when I was pregnant with Dante and blogged about it, but this time around, my Nesting techniques have completely changed. Instead of puttering about the house folding, ironing, and rearranging, I have taken to the kitchen and begun cooking gourmet meals every night.

See, it all started the other day when I rearranged (nesting!) my recipe box. I went through all of my recipes, from Pastas and Sauces all the way to Baked Goods and Sweets and reviewed, removed, and refiled everything. I even added new recipes to the box and created new little category dividers. Thanks to Martha Stewart and her little Everyday Food magazine, I have tons of quick, easy, and delicious recipes to choose from that don't require having strange ingredients in my pantry.

So, for the past week or so, Dante and I (poor Randy is at school, but he gets the leftovers for lunch the next day) have been come quite the epicurians. Last night I made Chicken Breasts in a White Wine Herbed Butter reduction and a spinach cheddar souffle. The night before, Balsamic Glazed Pork Tenderloins, a Baked Potato Gratin, and roasted vegetables. The list goes on and on. Who knows what I am going to make tonight?

Don't get me wrong, I cook almost every night, and I'm quite handy in the kitchen, but I usually wing it or make up my own dishes and just be happy with that. But in this last phase of pregnancy, my nesting has shown itself to be cooking. Now sadly, I did not inherit my grandmother's affinity for baking, although certain friends whom I've made pies and cakes for may disagree, but my sweet tooth is virtually non-existent so I have no desire to venture into the Baked Goods and Sweets part of my recipe box, unless I'm looking for a fabulous Rosemary Encrusted Pizza Dough or my mother's famous recipe for Funnel Cakes (also known as Orgasm on a Plate).

No, my cravings and food loves are strictly made up of cream sauces, marsala reductions, parmesan encrusted this, panko coated that, seared this, and sauteed that, and potatoes, potatoes, potatoes. At my next OB appointment, I have to take a glucose test which requires that I eat no sweets at least 12 hours before. For some people, pregnant or not, that would be tough. For me? As long as Fettucine Alfredo with Shrimp and Calamari is not considered a "sweet", I'll be just fine.

So I've become the stereotypical "Italian" mother in the kitchen. Complete with saggy boobs, a wooden spoon, and a constant garlic smell that sticks to me. I even have a mole on my face that sprouts hair and a slight mustache! I just need the apron and I'm all set!