For those of you who have lived in Utah and since moved away, I'm sure you'll agree with me the number one reason to move back to Utah would be for the Cafe Rio Chicken Salad. If you're like us, far away and craving the salad, here's the best imitation recipe I've found. If you know of a better recipe leave a comment.
Café Rio Creamy Tomatillo Ranch Salad Dressing
1 bottle fat free ranch dressing
2 tomatillos (tomato like vegetable with a husk around them)
½ bunch of cilantro
1 clove garlic
Juice of 1 lime
1 jalapeño (Use the seeds too if you like it spicy. You could substitute a few drops of green tobasco for the jalapeno.)
Use a food processor to blend all the ingredients well. Refrigerate.
Cafe Rio Chicken
1 small bottle Kraft Zesty Italian Dressing
1 T chili powder
1 T cumin
3 cloves garlic—minced
5 lbs chicken breast
Cook all together in a crock pot for 4 hours, shred meat and cook 1 additional hour.
Café Rio Rice
3 c water
4 t chicken bouillon
4 t garlic –minced
½ bunch cilantro
1 can green chiles—or equivalent fresh
¾ t salt
1 T butter
½ onion
3 c rice
Blend cilantro, green chiles and onion together in food processor. Bring water to a boil and add all ingredients, simmer covered 30 minutes.
Pico de Gallo is easy just chop up some tomatoes (I usually use roma), white onion, jalapeno, cilantro, and add some sea salt and fresh squeezed lime.
Put it all together in this order:
Fried flour tortilla
Rice
Beans (black or pinto)
Chicken
Green leaf lettuce
Pico de gallo
Shredded cheese
Crushed tortilla chips
Creamy tomatillo dressing
Sour cream
Guacamole
Monday, March 24, 2008
Sunday, March 16, 2008
A poem written by a Russian Mormon convert dedicated to his missionary
Who are you boy, for a boy you are,
journeyed to this land of ours?
This land where I've endured my days
and fell oppression kill my soul
and force me into some tight mold
and teach me that I should not hope
unless I care to smell the smoke,
of dreams that the Red Army tamed.
Who are you boy, from this land of plenty,
teaching of God if there is any?
You have all, we have none.
Do you know what that feels like, son?
And yet, you ask me to believe
in something that I cannot see,
some force you say will bring me joy.
Do you know what that feels like, boy?
Where you're from faith is free,
but it has a price for me.
When I have pain I have my bottle.
Hurt dies quick when you down it in vodka.
That's enough to warm my soul.
I work I sleep, the days go by,
I'm waiting for the day I die.
You don't understand this place.
You say believe, obey, have faith,
live life well, serve and give.
Here in Russia, we just live.
Who are you boy? Why did you come?
To serve a soul who once was numb.
To teach a wretched, hateful man
who cursed your life, refused your hand.
I thought that we were worlds apart,
so how is it that you knew my heart?
A fraction my age, you calmed my rage.
Mercy paid my generous wage.
I should have been left behind,
it is hard to love my kind.
Hope in your heart, power in your hands,
why did you com to this distant land?
I know now, it was for me.
The red curtain fell, but I was not free,
until a boy from nations away,
brought me my Lord. I bless the day.
He led me to weep at my Master's feet,
the American boy, I met on the street.
New and naive, still in his teens,
with a message to bring the world to its knees.
I thought that the truth would come form another,
I did not know this boy was my brother.
- written by a Russian Mormon convert to his missionary from Payson, Utah
journeyed to this land of ours?
This land where I've endured my days
and fell oppression kill my soul
and force me into some tight mold
and teach me that I should not hope
unless I care to smell the smoke,
of dreams that the Red Army tamed.
Who are you boy, from this land of plenty,
teaching of God if there is any?
You have all, we have none.
Do you know what that feels like, son?
And yet, you ask me to believe
in something that I cannot see,
some force you say will bring me joy.
Do you know what that feels like, boy?
Where you're from faith is free,
but it has a price for me.
When I have pain I have my bottle.
Hurt dies quick when you down it in vodka.
That's enough to warm my soul.
I work I sleep, the days go by,
I'm waiting for the day I die.
You don't understand this place.
You say believe, obey, have faith,
live life well, serve and give.
Here in Russia, we just live.
Who are you boy? Why did you come?
To serve a soul who once was numb.
To teach a wretched, hateful man
who cursed your life, refused your hand.
I thought that we were worlds apart,
so how is it that you knew my heart?
A fraction my age, you calmed my rage.
Mercy paid my generous wage.
I should have been left behind,
it is hard to love my kind.
Hope in your heart, power in your hands,
why did you com to this distant land?
I know now, it was for me.
The red curtain fell, but I was not free,
until a boy from nations away,
brought me my Lord. I bless the day.
He led me to weep at my Master's feet,
the American boy, I met on the street.
New and naive, still in his teens,
with a message to bring the world to its knees.
I thought that the truth would come form another,
I did not know this boy was my brother.
- written by a Russian Mormon convert to his missionary from Payson, Utah
Saturday, February 16, 2008
You know you've been in Russia too long when...
You ride the marshrutka (van bus) shouting 'ostanovite' (Stop) EXACTLY where you want to stop, and not worrying about handing your money to the driver via 6 people.
You know more than 60 Olgas.
You changed apartments 6 times in 6 months.
You don't feel guilty about not paying on the tramvai (trolley).
You actually enjoy shopping at the rynok (outdoor market), and you think that Ramstore is the most advanced supermarket you've ever been to.
You no longer think washing clothes in the bathtub is an inconvenience.
You carry a plastic shopping bag with you 'just in case'.
When crossing the street, you sprint.
You are impressed with the new model Lada or Volga.
You hear the radio say it is zero degrees outside and you think it is a nice day for a change.
You argue with a taxi driver about a fare of 150 rubles ($5) to go 10 kilometers in a blizzard
You actually know and CARE whether Spartak (Moscow's soccer team) won last night
You win a shoving match with an old babushka for a place in line, and you are proud of it.
You are pleasantly surprised when there is toilet paper in the bathroom at work/school
You give a 10% tip only if the waiter has been really exceptional.
You are relieved when the guy standing next to you on the bus actually uses a handkerchief.
You discover a new love for beets.
You know seven people whose favorite novel is "The Master and Margarita".
You change into 'tapki' (slippers) and wash your hands as soon as you walk into your apartment.
You start thinking of black bread as a necessary part of dinner.
You drink the brine from empty pickle jars.
You begin refering to locals as 'nashi' (our's).
Locals start refering to you as 'nash' (our).
You know more than 20 Lenas, 30 Mashas and 60 Sashas.
Purchasing a ticket on the first attempt feels like the triumph of a lifetime.
You are rude to people at the airport for no reason.
You haven't worn your sneakers for anything but offical exercise in months.
'Remont' (remodeling) becomes an integral part of your vocabulary.
Cigarette smoke becomes 'tolerable'
You think metal doors are a necessity.
A gallon of milk seems like a foreign concept.
The elevator aroma seems reassuring somehow.
You do not take off that silly sticker on the sunglasses that you just bought.
Your sister wrote to you about the best prime rib she's ever had and you can't remember what prime rib looks or tastes like.
You sit in silence on your bags for a few moments before leaving on any long journey.
You catch yourself whistling indoors and feel guilty.
You never smile in public when you're alone.
You know the official at the metro station/airport/border post/post office/railway station, etc. etc. is going to say 'nyet', but you argue anyway.
That strange pungent mix of odors of sawdust, sweat and grime in the metro makes you feel safe and at home.
The word 'salad' ceases to have anything to do with lettuce.
Mayonnaise becomes your dressing of choice.
You do not leave any room between you and person in front of you in line. Ever.
It seems normal to you that stores close for lunch.
You voluntarily take a stroll in the park on a sub-zero day.
You are no longer surprised when your taxi drivers tells you that before Perestroika, he worked as a rocket scientist.
You dress up in your best outfits for work/school.
You laugh at Russian jokes.
You specify 'no gas' when asking for water.
You see one person per year jogging in Russia and you stop and stare in confusion.
You can heat water on the stove and shower with it in under 10 minutes.
You begin paying attention to peoples' floors and can distinguish the quality of linoleum and/or parquet, and thus determine social status, taste, and income e.g. embezzled, earned, pension, unpaid, etc.).
And when you get home…
You try to pay a traffic fine on the spot and get arrested for attempted bribery.
You try to get the waitress's attention by shouting, "Hey! Girl!"
You look for 'kvas' and 'kefir' in the supermarket and ask to buy half a head of cabbage.
You see a car with flashing lights and think it's a politician.
You are in awe that after three days at home, your shoes are still clean.
You answer the phone with 'Allo'?
You feel queasy when someone tries to shake your hand through a doorway.
Before getting in line at the grocery store, you ask 'Kto poslednii?' (Who's last?)
You know more than 60 Olgas.
You changed apartments 6 times in 6 months.
You don't feel guilty about not paying on the tramvai (trolley).
You actually enjoy shopping at the rynok (outdoor market), and you think that Ramstore is the most advanced supermarket you've ever been to.
You no longer think washing clothes in the bathtub is an inconvenience.
You carry a plastic shopping bag with you 'just in case'.
When crossing the street, you sprint.
You are impressed with the new model Lada or Volga.
You hear the radio say it is zero degrees outside and you think it is a nice day for a change.
You argue with a taxi driver about a fare of 150 rubles ($5) to go 10 kilometers in a blizzard
You actually know and CARE whether Spartak (Moscow's soccer team) won last night
You win a shoving match with an old babushka for a place in line, and you are proud of it.
You are pleasantly surprised when there is toilet paper in the bathroom at work/school
You give a 10% tip only if the waiter has been really exceptional.
You are relieved when the guy standing next to you on the bus actually uses a handkerchief.
You discover a new love for beets.
You know seven people whose favorite novel is "The Master and Margarita".
You change into 'tapki' (slippers) and wash your hands as soon as you walk into your apartment.
You start thinking of black bread as a necessary part of dinner.
You drink the brine from empty pickle jars.
You begin refering to locals as 'nashi' (our's).
Locals start refering to you as 'nash' (our).
You know more than 20 Lenas, 30 Mashas and 60 Sashas.
Purchasing a ticket on the first attempt feels like the triumph of a lifetime.
You are rude to people at the airport for no reason.
You haven't worn your sneakers for anything but offical exercise in months.
'Remont' (remodeling) becomes an integral part of your vocabulary.
Cigarette smoke becomes 'tolerable'
You think metal doors are a necessity.
A gallon of milk seems like a foreign concept.
The elevator aroma seems reassuring somehow.
You do not take off that silly sticker on the sunglasses that you just bought.
Your sister wrote to you about the best prime rib she's ever had and you can't remember what prime rib looks or tastes like.
You sit in silence on your bags for a few moments before leaving on any long journey.
You catch yourself whistling indoors and feel guilty.
You never smile in public when you're alone.
You know the official at the metro station/airport/border post/post office/railway station, etc. etc. is going to say 'nyet', but you argue anyway.
That strange pungent mix of odors of sawdust, sweat and grime in the metro makes you feel safe and at home.
The word 'salad' ceases to have anything to do with lettuce.
Mayonnaise becomes your dressing of choice.
You do not leave any room between you and person in front of you in line. Ever.
It seems normal to you that stores close for lunch.
You voluntarily take a stroll in the park on a sub-zero day.
You are no longer surprised when your taxi drivers tells you that before Perestroika, he worked as a rocket scientist.
You dress up in your best outfits for work/school.
You laugh at Russian jokes.
You specify 'no gas' when asking for water.
You see one person per year jogging in Russia and you stop and stare in confusion.
You can heat water on the stove and shower with it in under 10 minutes.
You begin paying attention to peoples' floors and can distinguish the quality of linoleum and/or parquet, and thus determine social status, taste, and income e.g. embezzled, earned, pension, unpaid, etc.).
And when you get home…
You try to pay a traffic fine on the spot and get arrested for attempted bribery.
You try to get the waitress's attention by shouting, "Hey! Girl!"
You look for 'kvas' and 'kefir' in the supermarket and ask to buy half a head of cabbage.
You see a car with flashing lights and think it's a politician.
You are in awe that after three days at home, your shoes are still clean.
You answer the phone with 'Allo'?
You feel queasy when someone tries to shake your hand through a doorway.
Before getting in line at the grocery store, you ask 'Kto poslednii?' (Who's last?)
Friday, December 21, 2007
Friday, July 6, 2007
Baby Blessing
I gave Andrew his baby blessing in Church last Sunday. As a group of us men held him in a circle I spoke inspired words that came to my heart. As Katya had feared, Andrew started crying in the middle of the blessing, so it was short but sweet.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
More pictures and videos
Andrew will be 4 weeks old this Saturday. We've uploaded some more pictures to our Picasa Gallery and more videos to YouTube. Andrew is holding his head up really well and is very capable of telling us when he wants something, like to suck on daddy's pinky or to be wrapped up in a little cacoon.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Our son is a YouTube star!
You can watch videos of Andrew during his first minutes after birth and during his first day on YouTube. View all of our YouTube videos here.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Our son was born!
Our son, Andrew, was born yesterday morning, on Saturday, May 26 at 4:06 AM. He weighed 8 pounds 9 ounces and is 20 inches long. He has quite a head of brown hair. Mom and baby will come home from the hospital tomorrow morning. You can see photos in our gallery here.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Baby Shower!
Katya's baby shower was on Monday night. The event was put together by Ashley and my sister Adrienne. We played fun games like guessing the flavors of 9 baby foods (yuck!) and guessed the different kinds of candy bars that were melted and put in diapers. You can see our pictures from the party here.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Our son will arrive soon!
Just four weeks until our son will make his appearance into the world. Katya and I have attended every class possible that the hospital offers for expecting parents.
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