This little piggy . . .

Tuesdays and Thursdays are bad.  Bad because I wake up at 6*and don’t again see my lovely apartment until the sun goes down, children are in bed and the news is about to start. The fury dude has discovered  that, despite a trip outside a few hours earlier, if he bounces around and makes enough noise, I’ll dutifully follow him down the stairs and watch him wander around aimlessly for an unnecessary amount of time.**  Add to that the much needed shower and the tall dude’s even later arrival - and my inclination towards ordering pizza or cracking a can of sardines for dinner grows stronger every week.

 And very slowly I’m coming to realize that even my simplest staple recipes are a test of endurance and mental fortitude this late at night.  A nine hour work day coupled with a few hours of telling girls to point their toes and, seriously, get your friggen arms straight*** don’t breed my usual kitchen enthusiasm. 

 . . . and I don’t love eating leftovers for dinner and there ain’t a roast in the world that gets better after it ‘simmers’ for 15 hours in the crockpot.  Further, any recipe that includes the terms ‘finely mince’ or ‘carefully’ are obviously off the table and the idea of prepping for two dinners on Monday and Wednesday nights usually incites a strange combination of nausea and uncontrollable snickering.

That leaves few options in my current arsenal and forces me to reevaluate my general avoidance of ‘assembly recipes.’   I’m beginning to collect a set of what I’m deeming ‘Tuesday Night Recipes’ that, while not as exciting as my usual made from scratch preferences, take at least a few more steps than open box, lift plastic seal and microwave for 3 minutes.  Right now it contains only a few dishes – as I’m realizing that even with the estimated 30 minutes of ‘hands-on time,’ a full 1.5 hours really drags on when dinner isn’t served until 10:30.

I fear, however, that my general reliance on tuna salad sandwiches will grow old quickly and a little discipline and focus is going to be required in making this selection grow.  . . . but for now – here’s numero uno:

Swine in a Duvet
(PG13 Version of Pigs in a Blanket)

I pulled a version of this recipe out of real simple when I was just a single gal counting down the days until she moved out of Milwaukee.  Oh how things change.

Package of crescent rolls
8 thin slices of ham
8 pieces of swiss cheese
¼ cup of chopped onions
6 small dill pickles – cut into 4 slices (lengthwise)
Mustard
Whatever else tickles your fancy

Unroll the crescents – assemble with desired ingredients.  I usually run a line of mustard on the roll, top with a piece of ham, followed by a piece of cheese and then the onions and pickles (and whatever else you have on hand.)  If the onions and pickles aren’t touching the cheese, they’ll fall out when you go to eat.  (If you notice the picture above, I didn't follow my own rule of them and, indeed, there were onions and pickles on my plate after I was done.)

Place on a foil lined pan (the cheese will leak out and it will be messy – but picking off the leftover crusty cheese is one of my favorite parts of this recipe!)

Bake for the suggested time at the suggested temperature.

Serve with a box of Campbell’s soup and you’ve got yourself a read-made, from the box dinner.  Makes me shudder when I think about it.

* and hit the snooze a few . . dozen . . times.

** lately he’s more apt to stand in the middle of the sidewalk staring into space and sniffing people as they jog by . . .  and I’m apt to let him do whatever he deems appropriate.

*** and no, when I ask, ‘what you were thinking about when you ran down the runway’ – it’s not rhetorical and a shoulder shrug is not the answer I was looking for.