$70/Week Challenge - Day Three: Homemade Spinach Ham Pizza

Ingredients:

• 3 C bread flour
• 1 C  warm water
• 3 T extra virgin olive oil
• 1 1/4 oz package of active dry yeast
• 1 t sugar
• 1 t salt
• 1 C tomato sauce click here for recipe
• 2 C mozzarella cheese
• 2 T Parmesan Cheese
• 1/4 C fresh baby spinach
• 2 slices of Parmesan Pesto Ham, cubed

1. In a large mixing bowl, combine flour, water, olive oil, yeast, sugar and salt.  
2. Using your very clean hands, stir the ingredients until they form a solid ball (this will take a few minutes, and you will have to scrape down your hands several times).  You can use a dough hook on a food processor, but I don't think it comes out the same.
3. Place the dough on a clean smooth surface.  Gently kneed the dough for 8-10 minutes making sure to rotate the dough with each punch (the dough should be smooth and shiny, and have elasticity).  
4. Return the dough to mixing bowl and cover with a warm, damp dish towel.  
5. Allow the dough to rise for at least 1 hour.
6. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.
7. "Punch" the dough down and remove from bowl.  Kneed the dough for an additional minute, on a well floured surface (also dust your hands with flour as well).  
8. This is the part, if you are fancy, where you toss and spin the dough.  If you can do this, form it into an 18" circle.  If  you are not fancy (I am not), take a floured rolling pin and roll it to form. 
9. Top with sauce, spinach, Parmesan cheese, mozzarella cheese, and ham pieces. 
10. Drizzle top with olive oil and sprinkle with dried basil. 
11. Place on a pizza stone, or pizza pan and bake for 20-25 minutes until crust is brown and cheese is bubbling. 

The Cook At Home Dad's Go-To Tomato Sauce

I don't think I've ever made the same tomato sauce twice...until I came up with this go-to recipe!  I believe in pairing every fresh herb and spice with its dried counterpart to provide a wonderful depth of flavor.  I keep it simple by sticking to tomato basil, and then alter the flavor of the sauce depending on the dish I'm making (if it is a traditional spaghetti and meatballs, I flavor the meatballs with onion and oregano, and  cook it in the slow cooker---the sauce infuses the meatballs which in turn infuse the sauce!  YUM!).  Whether you are looking for a quick-pizza sauce (omit the wine), or a robust all day simmered depth, give this one a whirl!  

Ingredients:

• 4 T extra virgin olive oil
• 1 Head of garlic, peeled
• 1 C fresh basil leaves
• 2 T garlic powder
• 2 T dried basil
• 1/2 t red pepper flake
• 2 T capers or green olives (adds a subtle layer of tang to the sauce, without overpowering the flavor)
• 2 cans diced tomatoes in puree
• 1 can crushed tomatoes
• 1 small can of tomato paste
• 1/4 C red wine (Shiraz works best--only add this if you are planning to simmer this for a long while)

1. Brown garlic cloves (whole) in olive oil in a large sauce pot over medium high heat, stirring frequently (this will take several minutes, but the flavor of the garlic becomes deep, rich, and sweet in a way it would not if you were to mince or chop it).
2. Add pepper flakes.  
3. Carefully add in 2 cans of diced tomatoes and reduce heat to low.
4. Add capers/olives, red wine, and basil leaves.
5. Using a mixing wand, carefully blend the sauce until smooth (make sure there are no random whole capers).  If you do not have a mixing wand, you can transfer the sauce in batches into a blender.  Be extremely careful,  as a hot mixture will cause the lid of the blender to blow and splatter if you don't pulse it first
6. Return heat to medium high and add crushed tomatoes. 
7. Bring to a boil. 
8. Reduce heat to low, and gently incorporate tomato paste.
9. Stir until well combined.
10. Add remaining ingredients and salt and pepper to taste. 
11. Simmer on low for HOURS.  Literally cook the living daylights out of it.  The longer it cooks, the better it tastes! 
12. Mangia!

$70/Week Challenge - Day Two: Parmesan Pesto Ham and Roast Beef Gouda Grinder (Sub, Hero, Sandwich)

Ingredients:  

• 1/4 lb Parmesan Pesto Ham (check your local deli)
• 1/4 lb Roast Beef
• 1/4 lb Gouda Cheese
• 1 large seeded Italian or French Loaf of Bread
• 4 T mayonnaise 
• 1 T horseradish sauce (or to taste--I kept this mild for the kids)
• 1  roasted red pepper (jarred)
• 1/2 C mixed field greens

1. Slice bread lengthwise.
2. Mix horseradish and mayo and spread mixture on both sides of bread.
3. Add all ingredients and top with salt and pepper.
4. Serve with kettle potato chips, pickles, and pepperoncini.
5. Enjoy! 

Total Cost:  $8.75, 6 servings

$70/Week Challenge - Day One: Mushroom Gouda Salisbury Steaks with "Potatoes Au Gratin" and Sauteed Spinach

Well, $10 for a dinner for five is a much bigger challenge than I anticipated.  I did go over budget, but am way under budget for tomorrow, so I am hoping that I will still keep to $70 for the week.  These "steaks" were a huge hit at my house, but the processed potatoes?  Never again.  I can come up with something not processed for $1.  Look for that recipe later this week.  This would pair perfectly with a 2009 Betz Family Clos de Betz Columbia Valley Red.  But since we are on a budget, it paired great with water and lemon.  Enjoy!

Ingredients:

• 1 pound ground beef or turkey                                      $3.99
• 1 packet of Mushroom/Onion soup mix                      $0.50
• 1 egg                                                                                 $0.17
• 1 14.5 oz can Beef Broth                                                 $0.89
• 1 package box of processed potatoes au gratin           $1.00
• 3 T butter                                                                        $0.25
• 1/2 C milk                                                                       $0.16
• 2 C water                                                                         freeish
• 1 package pre washed baby spinach                            $1.50 (bogo)
• 1 lemon                                                                            $0.50
• 1 8 oz package sliced mushrooms                                 $1.99
• 6 slices Gouda Cheese                                                    $1.20
• 2 garlic cloves                                                                 $0.10
• 2 T flour                                                                           N/A
• 2 T olive oil                                                                      N/A                                                                   

1. Prepare sodium laden, processed potato product per box directions. (seriously, this is the last time I will ever make this, $1 or not!  I can get the ingredients and make it fresh for around $1)
2. Preheat oven to 450 degrees.
3. In a large mixing bowl, combine beef or turkey, soup mix, and egg.  Mix well.
4. Shape meat mixture into six, equal sized oval shapes. Tip  half the meat mixture and then divide each half into thirds for a universal size
5. Place steaks relatively spread out on a sheet pan and bake for 10 minutes, or until cooked through, turning over after 5 minutes.
6. In a small saucepan over medium high heat, melt 2 T butter and whisk in 2 T flour.
7. Slowly add beef broth and whisk until well combined.  Reduce heat to low.  Simmer for 10 minutes.
8. In a small saute pan, add 1 T olive oil and lightly saute garlic that has been finely minced and add spinach and salt and pepper to taste.
9. Add the juice of one small lemon to spinach.
10. Remove spinach.  Add 1 T olive oil to the same pan and saute mushrooms until they have sweat and become soft (about five minutes).  Add salt and pepper (to taste).
11. Top each "steak" with mushrooms and a slice of Gouda cheese.
12. Return to oven for 2 minutes.  
13. Enjoy! :) 

CAHD tip:  line your sheet pan with aluminum foil and spray with cooking spray for easy clean up!  It is the only dish that got done tonight.

Happy Belated Father's Day....Mom!

Last year was my first father's day since my biological father passed away. I spent the day mourning less the loss of the human being whom I had little connection to, but more the loss of hope that I would ever have a dad. I felt semi orphaned. I always hoped things would get better with my father, even when we were estranged and in difficult times. Sadly, that will never be. Today marks the two year anniversary of his death. I have been trying to give meaning to the loss since this past father’s day and I was a bit surprised with what I came to.

I am a very proud and dedicated stay at home dad. I would say the first word I would use to describe my 'self' is "father." It is the most important role in my life. My three children are the most remarkable and amazing universes. I am the domestic-half of the partnership that is their air traffic control guiding them through their journeys towards the beautiful tomorrows that await them. My three girls each amazed me at first sight, and continue to leave me baffled and breathless with each step as they toddle forward (and much too quickly).

I understood relatively soon after becoming a dad that a lot of who I am as a father is because of who my father was not. I am actually grateful for that realization. It gives credit to a man I love without justification. I love my father and always will; however, he does not, and never did, deserve it. I believe he now knows that, freed of the limitations his life provided. This second "fatherless" father's day and second anniversary of his death have left me pondering: what were the 'positives' that led me to become the man/father I am and am becoming?

I grew up in an impoverished matriarchy. There were simply no men in the world I grew up in, aside from television, teachers, preachers, etc. My biological father left my six-months-pregnant mother with a six year old daughter, a one year old son, and no skills, no money and no hope. We were living in the other side of my father's parents' duplex when she was told to leave, pregnant. Her family of origin had moved 500 miles away the year prior. Proud as she was, she turned to public assistance, packed up what she could, and transferred her brood to what she could afford: a roach (and once rat) infested third floor apartment on the "bad" side of town.

It is interesting to define detail here, because that is not how it felt. Somehow, I always felt SAFE. I was that kid that brushed his teeth and, in horror, found wings and legs from a roach both on my brush and in my teeth. I was that kid who woke up to pee in the middle of the night and watched the roaches scurry in the light. I was that kid who had to sift through his cereal to make sure I wasn't consuming any of those diseased demons (I loathe roaches, in case I did not get that across ). Yet, somehow, I felt SAFE. We lived in squalor and walked on streets that were drug laden, crime infested, and dangerous. Home. In the center of so much horror was home.

My mother could not afford a car, so we walked everywhere. Once a week we had the luxury of paying $5.00 for a cab which lugged our young family and four giant, thin green garbage bags that would always tear whilst being carried down three flights of stairs, off to the Laundromat. My mother somehow saved up enough money to buy a luxurious used Pinto!! It may not have smelled fresh and clean, but could take us to more than just a place to wash our clothes...the PARK! The grocery store! Anywhere!!! The possibilities were ENDLESS!! That Pinto was my first limousine!

My younger brother and I were beaten up daily by bullies. Our mother grew tired of black eyes and bloody noses and eventually told us to never throw the first punch, but defend ourselves. She told us to be brave and fight back (if we had the internet back then, she would have said: “MAN UP!” LOL).

I will never forget the day that her advice came into play. We had typically tried every possible route to avoid conflict, but this day was different: It was a sunny warm June day on one of the last days of school. The scent of summer and freedom was in the air, and I still smell a specific scent from time to time that brings me back to that day. I was having a particularly good moment (so good I remember it over 30 years later), and we arrived at our street we typically scurried across, and saw the usual gang. They were playing stick ball in the road, and blocked the path to our front door as usual. I had a choice: Do we walk around the entire block, up the huge hill, across the road with the dogs that are always loose to go the other way, or walk forward? I remember making the choice: we are going to walk directly to our home, ‘I am walking on air,’ ‘life is good,’ ‘I got this!’

The softball that was whipped at my head was not unexpected, nor was the fight that ensued. We were kicked, punched, and my hair was literally torn out of my head-- you know, a typical Friday. There was something different about this day. I heard my mother's voice, and I stood up, scared shitless, yet empowered. I lunged back for the first time. I punched, I body slammed, clearly I “broke.” I “won.”

We were given warning the next day from the bullies’ older brothers that we were "going to be sorry." Two days later, our luxurious Pinto was stolen and we were forced to revert back to our once a week cab rides and endless walks. My mother embraced me and prided me on the fact that I stood up for myself. I was sorry. I felt guilty. If I had not taken the bullies down, we would still have a car!! My mother would have none of that. She made it clear to me that standing up to them, and fighting back was more important than that car that meant so much to our struggling family.

It would be five years before we would own another vehicle. My mother walked us to our school to drop us off. She would then walk to work and put in overtime. She walked to work on Saturdays to earn time and a half. She came home and conducted her second shift of raising us…making sure we were empowered and making sure we felt safe. She succeeded beyond her expectations, I think. Where did I learn to become a man and a father? I learned from a warrior who chose to be selfless so that her children could become. I learned from a champion who rose above impossible to make things possible for her children. I learned from a soldier who braved hell and made things safe when they weren't and she did not feel safe so her children would. I learned from a soul with so much love that she loves others truly so much that her self does not matter. I learned from a woman who accepted her plight was to "do it all," and did more. And most.

I am the man and the father I am because of the ‘man’ and the father that my mother chose to be when called upon by my father choosing to be nothing. My mom put herself through school and got off welfare. She moved up, step by step, and has a cute condo and a "brand new" car (when she bought it a few years ago, but it was a MOMENT).

My mother is retired, now, and lives comfortably. She remembers her plight, but doesn't comprehend it or understand the importance of what she has done. She knows not the amazing human being she is or how much she has accomplished. She doesn't know her own strength or resilience or influence.

My mother sleeps at my house once a week to help me with my three young girls and to allow me to work on my art. My mother tells me almost daily how proud she is of me. My father once uttered, right before his death, that he was proud of the father I am. I suppose since that is the most important role for me, I should take that as him being proud of "me." I struggle. My mother is proud of every single word I've said, even in times of the most chaotic chaos. And I know it. She reads every word I write, listens to every song I've written and recorded, and eats every recipe I cook. I mock my mom in my work, but it is a tribute. I am being ironic because she is my hero and does not comprehend why. Sometimes she gets upset by the things I say and the extent to which I publicly share our history. Mostly, she laughs as I mock her, lightheartedly, and supports my every move.

In my experience admining on different pages, I encounter MANY others like my mom: those who do it all, brave the second shift with non-involved partners, those who “lean in.” I am a full time stay at home dad whose tenure is just about up. It has been an arduous, wondrous, amazing, demanding, rewarding experience. I have help and support. I will never comprehend how my mother, or those like her, play both roles and so well.

I am a very proud, brave, strong, wise man and I now understand wholeheartedly that I learned it ALL from my mother and I celebrate her and those in the place she bravely pioneered. Happy Belated Father's Day, Mom. xoxoxoxo


This post originally appeared on the blog http://www.fodder4fathers.com/  Reposted with permission.  

Chapter 8: The Hissing Hemorrhoid

My wife and I had an intense discussion when we were in the tenth month of pregnancy with our first child, where we shared how we were feeling about becoming parents and what our fears were. I looked at her in a moment of sheer terror on both our parts, dead serious, and asked: "does birth smell?" She looked at me with a cracked grin and asked what I meant. I said: "there's going to be a whole lot, I imagine, that is smelly." She just shook her head, but I went on to point out that although we did Lamaze on DVD, we only watched the breathing part. There was a lot we did not know (it was so bad that my sister-in-law and I were still timing contractions and chanting, minutes before delivery in the hospital, after over a day of labor and our "coaching"). 

"What the what?" my wife asked. She then giggled, clearly not understanding that I was being totally serious. I feared a lot of things, and heard horror stories, and stories on the "beauty" of the birthing process...but no one talks about how it smells! I brought it up a few times as our due date approached and passed. I think it may have become completely unfunny when she was three days past our due date. 

  

**************************************

The car ride to the hospital was borderline comedic, and I own that. I was a stereotypical first time father, shaking a mile a minute, forgetting bags, going over every bump possible in the road. "IS IT GOING TO BE SMELLY?" I screamed, in response to her nagging about how I was driving. My racing mind could not grasp anything else. I caught my wife's glaring eyes, illuminated by the headlights of oncoming traffic, and reflected from the mirror by the car riding the bumper of my 20 mph moving car on the fast paced NY freeway (I begged my wife to ride in the backseat with her sister because I thought it was safer). I realized that I was still not going to get an answer, but that I had it together enough to refocus on the road. I chuckled to myself over asking the very question, and it got us to our destination safely.

I experienced a great haze as my wife had a blood pressure drop and an incredibly difficult spinal. I have images that come to mind in those six hours after arrival, but most of the experience is through the zany pictures we took. My next moment of real lucidity was my wife being told to push. She pushed. She kept pushing. My wife pushed an Olympic level session of pushes for what seemed like forever! I held her hand, wiped her brow, cheered her on. 

And then...it happened. Mind you, my first rookie mistake was jumping between my role as cheerleader/partner and as cinematographer, where I snapped pictures, took short video blips, etc. I will never forget the moment I saw it: I came face to face with the blasted hemorrhoid that had plagued my wife for three months, and became a pain in my own ass in my own right. It hissed at me! It was so horrifying an image I swear I could HEAR it, even when I recollect!

I stared this anal beast down, equally fascinated, horrified, mortified....PLOP. My wife's poo made the first of several clanks I would hear on the stainless steel she laid so helplessly and uncomfortably upon (I think there was some type of mattress on top of it). I tried not to take the moment in...How am I going to not laugh? How am I ever going to get over this? How am I ever going to look at her the same again??? 

Return to haze...the bitch obstetrician returned and began SCREAMING at my wife to push (she was not a bitch, per se, but to me she was the enemy that night). "PUSH PUSH!!" Couldn't she see how hard my wife was pushing??? She was pushing so hard that aliens, that will forever change our connection, are coming out of my wife's ass!! I knew I could do nothing to stop the doctor's demands, and I began crying. How could that doctor be so hard on her? I didn't know what else to do, so I began pushing on my wife's stomach, sure I could save the day. "We've got this baby, I'll help you!" I declared. 

Thank God the nurse saw what I was doing and screamed "NOT YOU, HER!!!" I threw my hands up as though a swat team had caught me robbing a convenience store and then panicked. Did I hurt the baby? Did I hurt my wife??? 

I didn't know what else to do, so I returned to my photography duties and saw the next image: this hairy bloody skin like mass bursting its way out of my wife...first a little, then a lot, then a little more, then retracting, then more, then retracting...POP!!! A bloody, hairy, gory, mucous covered head-- sticking out of my wife's vagina. I cried, mostly in horror, at what I was witnessing. WTF is that??? It was so Ridley Scott, so inorganic and horrific and seemingly unnatural. I looked immediately at my wife, who was in pure agony and returned to her side. I kissed her forehead and could hear "Push, push"...but it became more and more clear she was being told "DO NOT push!!"

The cord had been wrapped around our daughter's neck and they were moving at what seemed like slow motion, but apparently lightning speed trying to fix it. True panic set in at the thought of something happening to our baby. I feared and experienced the absolute worst case scenarios....brain damage, disfigurement, death. My knees buckled. Everything became completely surreal as I squeezed my wife's hand and my heart pounded furiously out of my chest. 

I then heard clearly: "OK, ONE MORE PUSH," and my wife grasped my hand like she was owning General Zod. All of a sudden-- this human being emerged. This hairy, bloody, mucous covered HUMAN BEING had emerged. It felt like a nano second and an eternity. The space time continuum stopped there and all was still. I was not able to stand, never mind think, act or do--and I can't believe that I did any of those things. A human being that I co created just ripped out of my wife's vagina. 

I don't think there was really comprehension or experience in the following seconds or minutes. I kept telling myself to breathe and to keep standing up. I did not want to be "that dad," though understand why dads go down after birth. I was handed scissors seemingly out of nowhere, and was told "cut here!" I felt like a right handed kindergartner given left handed scissors being told to cut through a tire: I cut, and nothing seemed to happen except a bloody mess. "Cut more, it is extremely thick!" I heard. I thought about how this was my wife's and my daughter's living connection and proceeded, though terrified I would do it wrong and hurt my wife and/or my baby. 

"CUT, CUT!!" the doctor shouted. Bitch. 

It took four cuts to sever the cord (though I swear it was 400), and blood splattered about the room like a death scene from any classic horror movie. They rushed this 'hairy bloody goop' away and all I could think about was my wife, my trembling hands that held scissors that just cut human flesh, and about the fact I was actually still standing. I gathered enough wits about me to go to my wife's side. I didn't know I was crying again until the tears splattered on her face. I was the perfect trifecta of exhausted, exhilarated, and ecstatic. 

"ARE YOU OK?" I screamed, probably louder than I should have, through my baffled bewilderment. I don't remember what she said, but remember seeing her face and knowing she was OK, so I turned to face the 'hairy, bloody goop.' I looked over at the nurses who scurried about and remember being mad that I could not run to see and confirm what I thought I had witnessed. The banging on the door (of my over enthusiastic mother in law ready to meet her first grandchild) was muffled when I heard "THUMP." I wish there were more words, because 'thump,' nor any other word can adequately define that 'sound.' The afterbirth hit the table, and I truly thought I was going to fall over. I tried to make sense of things, but I next saw the obstetrician using a NEEDLE AND THREAD ON MY WIFE'S VAGINA!!! I saw people continue to scurry about the 'hairy, bloody goop.' My heart was racing, my breathing was thin, my thoughts were thoughtless. I remember wondering, "wait, I am not OK!!!"

I somehow gathered enough stability to run over to where the nurses were gathered. One of the nurses moved away from her position, and there she was: 'Push, Push' (as I still call her)!! PERFECT in every way...I looked her up and down, covered with Mecuricome , still gory and a little bloody...and then: she opened her eyes and our eyes met, only inches apart. Every breath in my body, idea my mind ever thought, sound my ears ever heard, sight I had ever seen, every moment in any time I had ever known was sucked into an abyss-- NONE of that mattered anymore. All that existed, ever existed, or will ever exist was her...MY BEAUTIFUL DAUGHTER!!! 

The nurses moved me to the gorified chair, blood strewn from one end to the other...and they placed my daughter in my arms for the first time. Since I have no words for THAT moment, I include this picture.

After an instant and an eternity, I looked over at my wife, the warrior, having a slight sense of what she had just done and I began sobbing. "THANK YOU! I LOVE YOU!! HOW??? HOW DID YOU DO THAT? DO YOU SEE HER??? ARE YOU OK???" I don't remember what she said, or if she even heard me.

The nurse then took our daughter and placed her on my wife's chest and the three of us embraced. PEACE and LOVE and LIGHT like I had NEVER experienced before, or even had the sense to conceptualize, aim for, or want. I had no sense of THIS before I received it. THIS is the most definitive component of my self, my life, my soul and always will be. I had NO idea THIS is what I wanted, needed, sought after. 

It would be a couple of very sleepless and hazy nights before we would discuss that night in any way we could really comprehend or give meaning to the experience. My wife and I were laying in bed as she breastfed our daughter. It was a breezy June night, and a warm wind blew through our bedroom. I remember how our daughter smelled of "baby" and lavender. We burned a sandalwood candle downstairs, and the scent lightly wafted into the room. The slight glow of the street lights, and the whooshing sound of passing cars filled the air through our open windows. It was one of those PERFECT moments. 

I looked at my wife, her eyes clearly visible from the street lights--so beautiful and so young, and I smiled. She gazed into my eyes, and then at our almost sleeping daughter. She smiled back at me and displayed the most content, amazing smile I had ever seen in my life. She reached around my head and grabbed me by the hair behind my ear and pulled me close, wiped my sweaty brow, and pulled me in for a kiss. We touched forehead and nose, and we both sighed. "So," she asked in a very serious tone, "was it smelly?" 

This was our only natural birth. Our twins were born via c section four years and six days later. C sections are a whole different beast. I still can't answer that question! I simply don't remember. I have an image of the poo, and an image of that hissing hemorrhoid. Those things are so completely trumped and muted by my wife's amazing strength and my daughter's amazing self. I guess it is like asking a woman if birth hurts. I think it is obvious what the answer is...but those details become so muted and unimportant. The resounding memory: my wife is a warrior and there was nothing gross or off-putting about it.  


CHAPTER 9:  I'M in charge of WHAT? 

Baked Brie En Croute

Looking for a last minute app that is sure to be a touch down this weekend?  This luscious, rich, and sinfully decadent treat is worth abandoning the "healthier" version of anything!!  Served at room temperature with stone wheat crackers on the side, and paired with anything from light beer to a fine wine...you will surely score with this creation!  Enjoy!!  Go Bears! ;)

Ingredients:

• 1 wheel of brie (available in your supermarket's cheese section--you can get a decent wheel of brie for around $15)
• 1 frozen pastry crust
• 1/4 C mixed olives, chopped (most supermarkets have olive bars, choose a variety of them, and be sure to de-pit)
• 1/4 C grape tomatoes, halved
• 2T extra virgin olive oil
• 1 garlic clove, minced
• 2 T capers
• 1 T salted butter, melted
• salt and pepper to taste

1. Place frozen pastry crust in refrigerator overnight.
2. Remove pastry crust from refrigerator 1 hour prior to cooking and set on counter to come to room temperature.
3. Remove brie from package and set on counter for 20 minutes.
4. Preheat oven according to cooking directions on frozen pastry dough.
5. Wrap 1 sheet of pastry crust around brie (there will be a gap in the center)
6. Brush pastry dough with melted butter.
7. Cook pastry wrapped brie according to directions on the package (typically 20 minutes at 400 degrees).
8. Remove from oven and allow to cool for at least one to two hours.
9. In a sauté pan, add olive oil and garlic over a medium high heat.
10. When garlic becomes a golden brown color, add tomatoes, olives, capers, salt and pepper.
11. Drizzle mix in the center of the brie.
12. Cut the brie as you would a pie, and serve with stone ground crackers.