While I was making dinner (coq au vin, sauteed corn, and egg noodles), I knocked a glass of water onto the kitchen floor, where it shattered. Laurie helped clean up, and Iris was very interested and concerned. After the crisis was over, I showed Iris the pieces of broken glass in the garbage.

> **Me:** Iris, don’t ever touch broken glass. It’s very sharp and dangerous.

> **Iris:** Just like a shark.

This afternoon Iris came up to me while I was at the computer.

> **Me:** Dada’s doing some blogging.

> **Iris:** Dada not blog Iris!

She’s onto me! After dinner, Iris called for a scrubber, which is what she calls a wet paper towel for wiping her face and hands. I said, “Prepare to be scrubbed in a scrubby manner! Hmm, scrubby manner…Scrubbyman…that would be a good superhero name. It’s too bad I can’t draw, or I would draw him.”

Iris, of course, said, “Draw Scrubbyman! Dada, draw Scrubbyman!” Laurie added, “You did say you would draw Scrubbyman.” The previous paragraph proves this to be false, but I agreed to give it a shot.

The world is a little safer from crumbs and other forms of face-adhering grime tonight, because SCRUBBYMAN is born:

That’s a roll of paper towels he’s holding, not a giant battery.

P.S.: I’m also planning to post this to a Pavement fan site and claim it’s my drawing of Stephen Malkmus.

I can report a major pressure cooker success, thanks to smoked paprika. But let me back up.

On Monday night we had a rice noodle stir-fry from that same issue of Fine Cooking. I soaked some rice sticks and cooked them with fish sauce, garlic, chiles, chicken, tofu, and mushrooms. Iris did not approve, or as she likes to say, “Iris *don’t* like it.” (Sometimes Iris will fling a book aside and say, “Iris *don’t* like that book,” and then I will find her reading the same book five minutes later.) This despite the fact that she usually loves spicy tofu (aka “tofood”). She requested stew instead.

Iris has been making a lot of pretend stew in her new kitchen. She’ll put some chiles and toy vegetables into a little wooden pot and put it in the oven. Then she’ll turn one of the knobs on the stovetop, point to the other one, and say, “That one’s Dada’s.” I give it a turn, and she says, “Ding! It’s ready!” and opens the oven. The other day Laurie asked what she was making, and Iris said, “Chipotle-mushroom stew,” which sounds excellent.

So it didn’t take much to convince me that we should make some stew on Tuesday. Iris was happy about the prospect of stew, but even more excited because I said I’d be serving it with polenta. She loves polenta like a pellagra-ravaged Italian peasant. We went down to Pike Place Market and stopped in at Delaurenti for some pancetta. They sell pancetta at the QFC on Broadway, but we want to stop off at the Crumpet Shop for a crumpet with butter and honey. Anyway, while the woman at Delaurenti was slicing the pancetta, she asked what I was making. “It’s going to be something like a Northern Italian goulash,” I replied, “with pancetta and beef, red wine and tomatoes, and lots of onions. And I’m going to use smoked paprika, because we have some kicking around.”

“What are you going to serve with it? Potatoes?” she asked.

At this point Iris piped up, “Polenta! Polentapolentapolenta!”

The stew was inspired by a recipe in _Italian Slow and Savory_. I sauteed the onions, garlic, pancetta, and paprika but didn’t bother to brown the meat. Everything went into the pressure cooker with canned tomatoes and red wine (not too much of either, because I’ve learned my lesson about putting too much liquid in the PC). It cooked a total of 28 minutes at high pressure, although I had to open and check it a couple of times, which made it take longer. While the stew cooked, I had the polenta in the oven.

When the stew was done, I strained out the solids and defatted the very red broth in the gravy separator. I’m always reading recipes that advise you to spoon fat off the top of a sauce, either with a “wide, flat spoon,” whatever that is, or by putting the pan halfway off the burner, or tilting it, or something. I’ve never had the slightest success with any of these techniques, so I’m really glad someone invented the gravy separator. The best way to defat your stew is to leave it overnight in the fridge and remove the solid fat the next day, but that involves a degree of postponed gratification that I can’t countenance.

Iris was predictably impatient for the polenta to cool, and as soon as it was less than tongue-charringly hot, she started spooning it off her plate and saying, “Polenta! Not hot, just tasty.” We were all very pleased with the spicy stew. Apparently, and probably everyone knew this but me, smoked paprika is one of those ingredients, like fish sauce or parmesan cheese, that makes anything taste better. It made the stew beautifully red and smoky, and not in a fake-tasting liquid smoke sort of way, more like I had browned the meat over a glowing pile of hickory embers, which is doubly impressive since I didn’t brown the meat at all.

The strong flavor of smoked paprika makes it especially suited for the PC, which can crush strong flavors like play-doh. I threw in a couple of whole rosemary sprigs, and you couldn’t taste that at all.

The moral of the story is: Don’t buy a half-cup jar of smoked paprika. A half-gallon is more like it.

I used up all our pancetta, but after Iris’s bedtime, my dad came by with a late Christmas present: a whole slab of Salumi’s guanciale (cured pork jowl). When it comes to Italian pork products, I am Even Steven.

**Iris:** Grandma getting some new stickers for the window. Maybe animals.

**Me:** Maybe pirate stickers.

**Iris:** Maybe potstickers.

Today was Iris’s second birthday. I’ll be posting about the cupcake portion of the event tomorrow, but tonight I wanted to share a meatball recipe with you. These have been a family favorite since before Iris came along, but she is guaranteed to gobble several of them, so with her approval I made them for birthday dinner.

The great thing about these is that you don’t have to feel guilty if you’re too lazy to cook a separate vegetable, because they’re loaded with spinach. In that respect they’re similar to potsticker filling (meat and greens ground together to make something more delicious than either alone), but the seasonings are Italian. The recipe is based on one from Lynne Rossetto Kasper’s Italian Country Table, but I’ve changed quite a few things.

At bathtime, when I was brushing Iris’s teeth, we had the following conversation. Really.

**Me:** Iris, do you have any spinach in your teeth?

**Iris:** Those meatballs tasty! Not too spinachy.

Surely your kids will agree.

**SWEET AND SOUR MEATBALLS**
Makes about 12 meatballs, serving 4

Equipment note: You’ll need a food processor and a 12-inch nonstick skillet with lid. Well-seasoned cast iron would be okay, but do not try this with a stainless-surface pan or they will stick like hell. An instant-read thermometer is also handy but not required.

This recipe doubles very well if you have a 14-cup food processor, and leftovers reheat perfectly and make great meatball sandwiches. Cook the meatballs in two batches if you double.

For the meatballs:

2 large cloves garlic, peeled
2 ounces pepperoni slices
12 ounces boneless, skinless chicken thighs
5 ounces frozen spinach, defrosted and squeezed dry
1 small onion, coarsely chopped
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
Few grinds black pepper
1 slice rustic bread, crusts removed
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
1 ounce grated parmesan cheese
zest of 1 lemon
1 large egg

For the sauce:

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 cup dry white wine
2 teaspoons sugar
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1 cup canned low-sodium chicken broth (or homemade)

1. Place the bread in a food processor and grind into crumbs. You should have about 1/2 cup. Remove to a separate large bowl.

1. Place the garlic and pepperoni in the food processor and process until very finely chopped.

2. Add the chicken, spinach, onion, cinnamon, salt, and pepper, and process until well mixed. Poke through with a fork or spoon looking for unincorporated chicken chunks, and process further until you find any. You’re not looking for a mousse texture, but pretty close. Remove to the bowl with the breadcrumbs.

3. Stir in the 1 tablespoon vinegar, cheese, lemon zest, and egg. With your hands, form into 2-inch meatballs, placing them in a single layer on a large plate. You may cover the meatballs with plastic wrap at this point and place them in the fridge for several hours.

4. Pour the olive oil into a 12-inch nonstick skillet and heat over medium-high. Add the meatballs to the pan and cook until well browned on all sides, turning carefully with tongs. Turn the heat down if they’re browning too fast. This will take about 10 minutes. Pour off or blot any excess fat.

5. Return the heat to medium-high if necessary and add the wine. Cook until nearly completely reduced. Add the sugar, vinegar, and broth, bring to a simmer, reduce heat to low, and cover. Simmer 12 to 15 minutes, turning the meatballs once, until the meatballs are firm and register between 165°F and 170°F in the center.

6. Remove the meatballs to a bowl, raise the heat to medium-high, and boil the sauce down until it’s sour, sweet, and salty enough to your taste. Pour over the meatballs and serve immediately.