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Some nights, I simply can’t cope with cooking a sit-down dinner. Maybe it’s the “cooking” or the “sit-down” part. I don’t know. But on these nights, there is only one solution: nacho night in front of the television.

There are weeks when I am really on top of it all, and I plan ahead far enough to cook up a brisket or a load of chicken breasts to use throughout the week. The poorly-lit photo above is a product of one of those weeks - brisket nachos (recipe follows) with a side of my Mexican rice.

Frequently, though, I have just HAD IT and call on my husband to pick up a can of vegetarian black beans, Mexican Velveeta, a can of Rotel tomatoes and green chiles, and a bag of tortilla chips for a very satisfying, guilty-pleasure nacho fest.

Either way, nacho night is a time for the three of us (Maxwell can’t wait to grow some teeth and learn to sit up) to gather around our coffee table, turn on a movie, and chow down.

Brisket Nachos

1 lb. beef brisket

2 yellow onions

2 c. red wine

1 head of garlic

Santa Maria style seasoning

Some nights, I simply can’t cope with cooking a sit-down dinner. Maybe it’s the “cooking” or the “sit-down” part. I don’t know. But on these nights, there is only one solution: nacho night in front of the television.

There are weeks when I am really on top of it all, and I plan ahead far enough to cook up a brisket or a load of chicken breasts to use throughout the week. The poorly-lit photo above is a product of one of those weeks - brisket nachos (recipe follows) with a side of my Mexican rice.

Frequently, though, I have just HAD IT and call on my husband to pick up a can of vegetarian black beans, Mexican Velveeta, a can of Rotel tomatoes and green chiles, and a bag of tortilla chips for a very satisfying, guilty-pleasure nacho fest.

Either way, nacho night is a time for the three of us (Maxwell can’t wait to grow some teeth and learn to sit up) to gather around our coffee table, turn on a movie, and chow down.

Brisket Nachos

One 4 lb. beef brisket

2 yellow onions

1 c. red wine

6 cloves garlic, each cut in half

Santa Maria style seasoning (you may use any steak seasoning you like)

The Trimmings:

2 medium-sized avocados (this makes enough for 4 guac-lovers)

2 jalapenos chopped and seeded -or unseeded, up to you

juice of 2 limes

1/2 red onion, chopped

1 can of canned refried black beans (or you can mash up and refry your own)

1/2 c. queso fresco

bunch of cilantro, roughly chopped (Some like it, some hate it. Add to taste.)

pico de gallo or your favorite salsa

Queso

1/2 lb. (8 oz.)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Place sliced onion in the bottom of a glass baking dish.

Liberally season the brisket with the Santa Maria seasoning. Score the brisket, making twelve 1/4” cuts all over. Stick a piece of the garlic in each one of the cuts.

Pour the wine over the brisket. Cover; roast 1 hour, 30 minutes. Turn brisket over; roast, covered, until very tender, 1 hour, 30 minutes.

Once the brisket has cooled slice off about 1/4 of the beast and use two forks to shred. Refrigerate the remainder for use throughout the week.

Nothing, nothing; nothing hurts like watching my child sobbing out of shame and fear. Except maybe knowing that she has to do it, and that I have to make sure it happens.

What do you take for a life-ache?

Upon my recent visits to the dog park, I have observed that some aggressive/dominant dogs zero in on the less extroverted ones and try to annoy them. Sometimes they try to mount, but often it’s just a dog’s equivalent of poking someone in the shoulder and saying, “Hey you.” I am impressed by the dogs who, rather than choosing to run or to fall to the ground, simply turn their backs on the offending hound. Invariably, the aggressor finds himself diminished in the eyes of his peers, and he goes on his way.

I tried this with a person the other day. I didn’t like what he was saying, so I turned around and stood with my back to him until he went away.

I don’t care what they say; people really don’t want to hear your problems.

I don’t admit to being a bad person, exactly. But if you find yourself trapped in an elevator with me, you may find yourself regretting every decision you made to get you there. That’s all I’m saying.

I wish I could go back in time and punch my 25-year old self in the throat and say “Cowboy up.”