I Swear, This Does Not Make Me Texan

I made barbecue, Gentle Reader. That does not make me Texan. And yes, while I realize that BBQ is not strictly a Texas thing, you'd think some Texans invented it, patented and hold all claim to it by the way some of them swagger and brag about their BBQ prowess both in various media outlets and in real life.

Honey-Chipotle Barbecue Chicken Sandwiches1/2 C water
1 t ground cumin
4 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
1 lb. skinless, boneless chicken breast
1 7-oz. can chipotle chiles in adobo sauce
1 T canola oil
1 T minced garlic
1 t ground cumin
1/2 C canned tomato puree
1/4 C cider vinegar
3 T honey
1 T Worcestershire sauce
1/4 t salt
4 1.5-oz. sandwich rolls
2 oz. Monterey Jack cheese, thinly sliced
4 red onion slices, 1/8" thick

1. Combine the water, 1 teaspoon cumin, four sliced garlic cloves and chicken in in a large saucepan.
   
2. Cover, bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce heat to medium-low and cook 10 min. or until chicken is done.
   
3. Drain, place chicken on a cutting board, cut the chicken across the grain into thin slices and keep warm.
   
4. Remove 2 tablespoons of adobo sauce from can and set aside.
   
5. Remove two chipotle chiles from the can, finely chop and set aside. (Reserve remaining chiles and adobo sauce for another time.)
   
6. Heat the canola oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat.
   
7. Add 1 tablespoon minced garlic and sauté 3 min. or until it's just beginning to brown.
   
8. Add 1 teaspoon cumin and sauté 1 min.
   
9. Stir in the tomato puree and cook 4 min. or until the mixture thickens to a pastelike consistency, stirring constantly.
   
10. Stir in the adobo sauce, chopped chipotle chiles, vinegar, honey, Worcestershire and 1/4 teaspoon salt.
    
11. Add the sliced chicken to the sauce and simmer 3 min. or until thoroughly heated.
    
12. Preheat the broiler.
    
13. Split the rolls in half, then arrange them in a single layer, cut sides up, on a baking sheet.
    
14. Broil the bun halves 1 min. or until lightly toasted.
    
15. Remove the top halves of the rolls from the baking sheet.
    
16. Divide the chicken mixture evenly among the bottom bun halves, then top the chicken evenly with cheese.
    
17. Broil the chicken-topped rolls 2 min. or until the cheese melts, then remove from the broiler.
    
18. Top the melted cheese with onions, then place the bun tops to complete the sandwiches. Serve immediately.

Yield: 4 sandwiches

Nutritional Info
Calories: 424
Fat: 11.8 g
Sat fat: 3.9 g
Protein: 34.5 g
Carbs: 45.1 g
Fiber: 2.6 g
Cholesterol: 78 mg
Sodium: 765 mg

The Faudie's Futzings
I was honestly nervous about making this recipe, Gentle Reader, because I was afraid I was going to screw it up. I don't have the best track record for getting sauces to thicken, and I knew a runny soup instead of a sauce was going to screw up the completed meal.

Because I was scared of screwing up, I didn't futz much with this recipe. To have fewer dishes to clean afterwards, I cooked the chicken in the same skillet I used for making the barbecue sauce. I also omitted steps 12 through 18 because the husband didn't want cheese on his sandwich and wasn't terribly wanting a toasted bun, and I wasn't sure if I was going to make my portion into a sandwich or not.

Speaking of the buns, we scored some on the Wally World day-old bread rack that were low in fat, high in protein (7 g per bun, I think), whole-grain jobbers with sesame seeds that did not contain high fructose corn syrup. Have you noticed, Gentle Reader, how so many wheat bread products contain high fructose corn syrup--as one of the top four or five ingredients? I get that most consumers are used to the "wheat" sandwich bread that's brownified and made sweeter with brown sugar or some other ingredient, such as high fructose corn syrup, because they're used to the texture and flavor of nutrient-free bleached white sandwich bread. But do we have to maintain that tradition of adding so damn much unhealthy sugar to all bread?

Anywho, the reason I mention our choice of bread is that it'll affect the nutritional value of the recipe.

For all my worry and anxiety, the finished dish was fabulous and had quite a kick that worked perfectly with the sweetness brought by the honey. When I chopped up the two chipotle chiles, I included everything in 'em, seeds and, if they hadn't been roasted away, the ribs, so a bit of capsaicin was included, I'd imagine. On a hot day, the firey BBQ was the perfect excuse to chug a lot of water. If you plan to make this recipe, Gentle Reader, and you're not into firey heat or you don't want to chug water, then consider either using only one chile or making sure the chiles' outer flesh is the only part that goes into the BBQ sauce. I'm not sure if that's possible when you're using canned chipotles in adobo sauce, but you're welcome to try!

Sorry, I couldn't resist throwing in a (bastardized) line from the redneck classic "The Devil Went Down to Georgia." Sure, it's not about Texas, but I'm sure a lot of BBQ-lovin' Texans love that song. If you'll recall, Gentle Reader, when Dominique Moceanu bounced around in Atlanta in '96, she did it to that song, and Dominique's a Texan.

Six Years Ago Today

July 3, 2003 was a day and a half for the husband and I. That was the day we brought the boy home from Seoul. It wasn't long simply because here we were, two fairly intelligent and capable adults trying to manage as new parents. Or that we were trying to do that while traveling with an almost-five-month-old kiddo halfway around the world.

No, the day literally was a day and a half for us because we crossed the International Date Line against counter the direction the earth revolves. Given that we largely lost June 30 to travel, it seemed only fair, I suppose, that we get to enjoy an exceedingly long July 3.

Our flight from Seoul to Los Angeles left at 4:30 p.m. (Seoul time) and landed around 11:30 a.m. (WDT), I think. After spending some oh so delightful time in the hospices of U.S. immigration at LAX, we hopped a shuttle bus from the international terminal to the domestic terminal where Southwest has its L.A. ops and eventually caught a flight to Phoenix, landing there sometime around 6 p.m. (local time), I think.

I apologize, Gentle Reader, for imprecision. The day was a blur at the time, and my memories of it have not cleared with time. Trust me when I say you should be thankful you didn't experience it yourself.

After a two-hour or longer layover in Phoenix, where it was damn hot, even in the terminal, our little trio boarded a flight to Austin, landing around 11:30 p.m. (CDT).

The rest, you could say, is history still being made.

Six Years Ago Today

I stepped off an elevator in an apartment building in Seoul and met my son. Not a lot of women can say they stepped off an elevator and became a mom. Some women endure nine months of pregnancy then hours of labor and delivery. Me, I endured nine months of paperwork and waiting and agonizing over the actions of various government agencies and then 13 or so hours on a plane.

If I weren't so lazy, Gentle Reader, I'd upload the video of the actual moment I just described. But the video would need editing, and the Mac is currently not set up for use. Yes, I am that lazy.

The Boy and I Get to Know Each Other

This picture was taken shortly after the husband and I met our son. We went into his foster family's apartment to enjoy a little snack and to converse with his foster mom with the help of his social worker. I can't tell you much of what we talked about during the time we spent there, and I can't even tell you how long we were there. I was too stuck in this awe that this little, wriggly, smiley proto-human was real and, in a few days, would be my responsibility--but moreso I was stuck on the reality of him.

Here's the thing, Gentle Reader. I'm a writer. I create characters in my head, and they seem very real to me as I work with them both in my head and on paper. However, they're not real. They're just images and voices and ideas in my head and on paper.

While we waited for him to get his passport and visa, which would enable him to join us in the U.S., I stared at the boy's picture and read and reread the various documents we received during those weeks. I...yeah, I fantasized about what life with a baby would be like. I wove stories in my head featuring him and me and the husband and the feline kids and so on and so forth--just as I'd done with my fictional characters.

You can probably understand then, Gentle Reader, why I was so in awe of the reality of those moments in that apartment in Seoul with that little, wriggly, smiley proto-human in my arms or in the husband's arms or in his foster mom's arms. This is really happening, became my litany because after so long, part of me had sort of assumed that the saga of the adoption was just another saga I'd spun in my head--real to me in a way, but not ultimately not real.

But the boy is very real. Motherhood is very real. Granted, this six-year anniversary of our meeting the boy we're spending apart from him, but our life together in one crazy household is very real. And as crazy as it all is, I look forward to more of it.

So how am I celebrating six years of motherhood? By running my ass off: I put in a half-marathon today at the gym. I also hit another running milestone.

Two observations on this noteworthy day:

1. Running a half-marathon and then biking home is not terribly fun. This observation combined with my inability to swim proves I'll never be a triathlete. No way no how.
   
2. As much as I'd love to do it, I'm not going to log 2,000 miles by the time my one-year anniversary of logging miles with Nike+ comes around on July 28. My pace is slowing and my desire to spend that much time at the gym is dimming. Oh well.

Of course, logging more than 1,700 miles in about 11 months is probably nothing to sneer at. I'm thrilled by that achievement. Being the overachiever that I am, I'm going to try as hard as I can to get as close to 2,000 miles logged as I can by July 28.

Yeah, I know, Gentle Reader. I'm pathetic.