Hey Dana Jane

Tag: food

  • Super Bowl Sunday: Faith, Food, and Football

    Ah, Sunday. The day of rest, reflection, and—if you’re in our house—strategic grocery shopping and football-induced snacking.

    We kicked off the morning (pun absolutely intended) at St. Bronislava, where I’ve been a parishioner since birth. Gannon served at Mass today, and let me tell you, there is nothing cuter than seeing your kid in an altar robe, looking all angelic and composed—until you remember this is the same child who, just yesterday, probably tried to wrestle his brother over the last slice of pizza.

    Post-Mass, the Huz declared that lunch was necessary, but first—Super Bowl snack reconnaissance. We made our way to Plover Metro Market to stock up for the big game, dodging fellow shoppers who were also on a mission to secure their game-day essentials. Chips, dips, and all things that will ruin my attempt at healthier eating magically found their way into the cart.

    Then, Pizza Ranch. We arrived right as they opened, narrowly avoiding the stampede of hungry weekend warriors. The boys went all-in on pizza and fried chicken, while I attempted to show some self-control with salad and soup. (The keyword here is attempted—fried chicken is a powerful temptress.)

    Once home, groceries were put away, and I donned my Chiefs gear—not out of loyalty, but out of the practical need to get more mileage out of an outfit I wore last year. Hey, if I own it, I might as well wear it, right?

    Now, I’m curled up on the couch with both dogs at my side, diving into It Ends With Us by Colleen Hoover. I started it last night and am hoping to get a few more chapters in before the game. Whether the book or the Super Bowl will have the more dramatic twists remains to be seen.

    So here’s to a relaxing Sunday filled with family, football, and fun commercials. May the best team win—or at the very least, may the halftime show be entertaining enough to distract us from the calories we’re about to consume.

  • Work, Food, and Perspective: My Trip to Austin

    After a short break from the blog, I’m back! I spent the past few days traveling to Texas for work, flying into Austin for a conference with two colleagues. The trip itself was mostly smooth, except for one unsettling moment—mid-flight, a man seated across the aisle began having seizures. The flight attendants quickly jumped into action, and an announcement was made asking for any doctors or nurses on board. Thankfully, a nurse in first class was able to assist him until we landed, where paramedics were waiting at the gate. It was a scary situation to witness, but I was relieved to hear he was okay.

    Conference by Day, Relaxation by Night

    The conference itself was productive—long days filled with sessions and networking. But while my colleagues ventured out for beers after dinner, I found myself retreating to my hotel room, book in hand, flipping through TV reruns, and falling asleep early… three nights in a row. When did I become the person who prefers silence over socializing? Maybe it’s just the reality of parenthood—when no one is yelling “Mom!” every ten seconds, the quiet feels like a luxury.

    A Culinary Adventure

    One of the highlights of any trip to Austin is the food, and this visit did not disappoint.

    • Sunday Night: I took my colleagues to Moonshine Grill, a favorite from a previous trip. This time, I tried the horseradish-encrusted salmon with crispy Brussels sprouts—absolute perfection. My teammates indulged in street corn queso, blackened catfish, and chicken & waffles, and they loved every bite.
    • Monday Night: We hit up Terry Black’s Barbecue, a staple in Austin. We devoured ribs, brisket, and green beans. Lucas ordered a beef rib so massive, we joked it was the size of a child’s femur. I stuck to the pork ribs, which were fall-off-the-bone delicious.
    • Tuesday Night: Our final dinner was at Pinthouse Brewing, and wow—this place was a winner. I tried their cider and hard kombucha (both fantastic), but the food was next level. The wagyu burger was hands down the best I’ve had, and the sourdough pizza was an unexpected delight. Safe to say, we’ll be dining here again when we return next month.

    Gratitude & Perspective

    After a whirlwind few days, I was more than ready to be home on Wednesday. Travel always makes me grateful for the pilots and crews who get us safely from one place to another. That gratitude hit even harder the next morning when I woke up to the devastating news of a mid-air collision between an American Airlines plane and a military helicopter at Reagan International Airport in Washington, D.C. It was heartbreaking to hear of the lives lost. Moments like these remind me how fragile life is and why we should never take it for granted. My heart goes out to those grieving their loved ones.

    This trip was full of work, good food, and quiet reflection. And as much as I love traveling, there’s nothing like coming home.

    Moonshine Grill, downtown Austin
    Terry Black’s Barbecue, downtown Austin
    Pinthouse Brewing, Austin, TX

  • Surviving Mealtime Mayhem: A Culinary Comedy of Errors with Three Boys

    When you have three boys aged 9, 15, and 20, meal planning is less about nutrition and more about survival. If I were to sum it up, feeding my family is like running a restaurant with no menu, picky patrons, and a chef (me) who’s one burnt pancake away from retiring.

    Let’s start with the planning. My 9-year-old, Gannon, has the palate of a raccoon. His preferred menu consists of chicken nuggets, french fries, and a complete refusal to acknowledge that vegetables exist. The 15-year-old, Owen, is deep into the “I’m starving but also I don’t like that” phase, which means he’s perpetually hungry yet inexplicably enraged when dinner is lasagna. My 20-year-old, bless him, actually cooks for himself, and I love that he’s independent. But it’s bittersweet because I’d still love to have nice family dinners around the table instead of cooking and eating in shifts like a diner on a tight schedule.

    The grocery shopping stage is a spectacle that deserves its own reality show. I enter the store armed with a list that could double as a scroll from Game of Thrones. There are nuggets for Gannon, 15 bags of chips for Owen, and bulk chicken breasts and protein powder for Dawson. Add in my own sad little section—kale and a box of tea I’ll forget about until next month—and you’ve got a cart that confuses both the cashier and my wallet. By the time I leave, I’ve spent enough to consider taking out a second mortgage.

    Then comes the real chaos: meal prep. The kitchen transforms into a war zone where no pan is left unscathed, and my patience simmers alongside the spaghetti sauce. I’m simultaneously grilling chicken, boiling pasta, and negotiating with Gannon to try one—just one—green bean. Owen is raiding the pantry for a pre-dinner snack, leaving a trail of crumbs behind him. Dawson is in the background whipping up his own elaborate meal that smells amazing and makes me briefly question if I should just let him cook for all of us.

    When dinner is finally served—at least for those who haven’t already eaten—you’d think there would be peace, but no. Gannon declares the chicken too “chicken-y,” Owen pokes suspiciously at the sauce like it might bite him, and I’m left sitting alone at the table with my kale, dreaming of a world where we could all eat together without complaint.

    And don’t even get me started on the cleanup. By the end of the night, my kitchen looks like it hosted a food fight. I’m left scrubbing pans and vowing to simplify next time—which we all know is a lie.

    So, here’s to all the exhausted parents out there who feel like short-order cooks in their own homes. Feeding three boys isn’t just a task; it’s an extreme sport. And while I dream of peaceful family dinners, I’m learning to appreciate the chaos—and my oldest’s cooking skills—for what they are.

    Pass the wine. And maybe a protein shake for the big one.

  • Christmas Eve: Roast Beast, Dice Games, and Family Nostalgia

    Christmas Eve at our house this year was a beautiful mix of chaos, laughter, and roast beast (as Gannon insists on calling it). We hosted my parents and siblings, and let me tell you, there’s nothing quite like having a house full of people you’ve known your entire life. The good, the crazy, and the hilarious all come rushing back when we’re together.

    We went all out with the food—roast beef, ham, meatballs, cheesy potatoes, deviled eggs, shrimp, broccoli salad, and a veggie tray. It was the kind of spread that makes you wonder why we don’t eat like this every day. Everyone brought something to the table, literally, except my mom. This year, she didn’t have to. She’s been battling cancer, and for once, I wanted her to just enjoy herself, no casserole dish in tow. Watching her relax and laugh with her grandkids warmed my heart more than any holiday candle ever could.

    Gannon, of course, was thrilled to see his cousins. He rallied the troops for a dice game with Poppa Frank that quickly turned into a miniature riot when they discovered the treasure trove of costumes and toys in the playroom. Our house echoed with the sound of kids laughing, arguing over who got to be the Packers quarterback, and the occasional crash (nothing broke… I think).

    Later, we all piled into the living room to watch Home Alone—a tradition, because no Christmas is complete without Kevin McCallister outsmarting two hapless burglars. We followed it up with Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, one of my dad and brother’s favorites. The living room was a sea of kids, crumb-covered paper plates, and the occasional snoring adult (no names, but you know who you are).

    As the night wound down, I found myself sitting back and taking it all in. Family isn’t perfect. We argue, we annoy each other, and we bring a lifetime of baggage to every holiday gathering. But when it matters, we come together. We set aside our differences, gather around the table, and play dice games with Poppa Frank like we’re kids again.

    This Christmas Eve reminded me that no matter what challenges we face—whether it’s a tough year, a health battle, or just the everyday chaos of life—there’s something magical about family. It’s messy and complicated, but it’s also beautiful.

    So here’s to another Christmas filled with nostalgia, laughter, and love. And here’s to many more nights of roast beast, toy-strewn living rooms, and the comforting chaos of being with the people who know you best.