Split Pea Cakes

So, what happens when you overcook split peas, try to cook the water out of the result, then get frustrated and put them in a colander lined in cheesecloth?  Split Pea Cakes.  I was intending to do as I have done in the past and cook split peas as a filling, fiber-rich alternative to a rice or pasta base for the vegetable curry I was cooking,  However, I made the fool's error of following the instructions on the package.  The result would have been perfect  if I were making a split pea soup.  But I feel that it is egregious assuming on the behalf of the package to write cooking directions that suit only the most well-known dish made with the product and totally do not suit any other use of the product.  Shame on you, store-brand split peas!  FOR SHAME.  However, I now have a tasty result to pass on: a fine-textured product that can easily be cut into squares immediately after cooking and, when laid gently on top of a dish, add a nice toothsome quality.

 Split Pea Cakes
(completely necessary)
2 C. dried split peas, sorted for rocks and washed
3-4 C. water
1/2 tsp. salt

(for flavor-- substitute whatever you think will compliment your dish)
1/2 onion, chopped
1/4 tsp. mint flakes
1-2 TB. cooking oil

 If you are adding the "flavor" ingredients, heat the oil in the pan first, then sauté the onions until they're soft.  Then add in the mint and frizzle it a bit.  Then, continue as follows: combine all  "necessary" ingredients in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil, then simmer until the split peas are beginning to break apart-- about 30 minutes.  Line a colander with three layers of cheesecloth.  (This is simpler than it sounds-- just fold up your cheesecloth before laying it in the colander.)  Pour the split peas and cooking liquid into the colander, then fold the hanging edges of the cheesecloth over the top of everything and use it the squeeze and press out as much moisture as you can.  Transfer the cheesecloth, contents and all, onto a work surface, cutting board, or plate.  Unfold the top covering.  Using your bare hands (if it's cool enough, or a tool if it's not), press the split pea paste until it's about 1 inch thick all over.  Cut gently with a knife into 2 inch squares.  The end.  These do not fry well, having the tendency to a) fall apart and b) soak up way too much oil.  When your other dish is ready, lay 2-3 squares on top of each serving. 

Makes 4-6 servings



 

Rich Weekday Pasta e Fagioli / All Kinds of Rants

This is an easy, quicker version of the Italian staple, Pasta e Fagiole soup which, for some inexplicable reason, is pronounced "Pasta Fazhool".  Linguists of the world, please do not unite and try to explain to me exactly why this is.  I can actually work some, less-abstruse parts of it out for myself.  I just prefer to hyperbolize.  I would say this is an "x-ingredient recipe" except that the actual number of ingredients is not impressively-sounding low enough although, for the record, neither is the typical "x-ingredient recipe" if you count the actual number of ingredients required.  Let me rant a little here: if the recipe boldly highlights, possibly with full-color pictures, a can of some kind of soup, a jar of ketchup, and a package of ground beef, that does not mean those are the only ingredients if the rest of the (text) part of the recipe goes on to explain that you also need an onion, 4 different kinds of spices, a tub of sour cream, specialty cheesecloth, and a yak.  If an illiterate person combined the "three ingredients" he or she would not get a result like unto the picture.  Also, literate persons are then required to make a trip to a) the regular grocery store for two of the four spices that they don't have and the sour cream (who keeps sour cream besides people with serious nacho fixations?) and b) the specialty grocery for the cheesecloth and yak. 

Anyway, while the number of ingredients in this recipe is not of an Olympic-quality lowness, it is a pretty short list.  And, more importantly, the actual time to make this is about 12-15 minutes.  The end result is a pretty decent pot of Pasta e Fagioli soup that is hearty enough for a big bowlful for dinner or as an accompaniment to other things.  The tomato flavor is considerably rich, so if you want a lighter (or just brothier) soup, put in half the tomato sauce and substitute the missing volume with water.  (Or prepared broth of your choice.)

Rich Weekday Pasta e Fagioli

2 14-oz. cans red kidney beans, drained
1 15-oz. can prepared tomato sauce (your favorite jarred spaghetti sauce might be good here too)
8 oz. pasta
1 clove garlic
2-3 C. boiling water on hand
1 tsp. salt (or less-- I'm happy with the flavor I got but it could be less salty and still be flavorful)
1-2 TB. cooking oil
mint flakes, ground red pepper, and Italian seasoning to taste (I used about 1/2 tsp. each)
plenty of grated Parmesan cheese to serve it with*

Get your hot water ready in a separate pan (or microwave it, or use an electric tea kettle...whatever works for you).  Mince the garlic.  In a medium-small soup pot, heat the oil, then saute the garlic over medium heat just until it starts to release its flavors.  Then, add in the spices and salt (or you can wait to add the salt until the end) and stir them around in the bottom of the pot for a few seconds to allow them all to frizzle and release their flavors.  Then, dump in the cans of beans and tomato sauce.  Bring all that to a rapid simmer, stirring to mix the spices and garlic in thoroughly.  Then, dump in the uncooked macaroni.  Yes, you read me correctly.  No extra water (at this time).  Continue to stir, making sure to frequently scrape the bottom of the pot.  As the pasta starts to cook, it will begin to absorb the excess water from the beans and tomato sauce.  Once the mixture starts getting thick, add in a little water, about 1/2 C.  Continue to stir until all this is absorbed, then repeat the process until the macaroni is fully cooked and the soup is the consistency you like it, about 10-12 minutes.  It's a given that the pasta will absorb the remaining liquid overnight, so be prepared to add a little water in the next time you eat it...or just enjoy it the way it is.)  Serve piping hot with plenty of Parmesan cheese sprinkled on top. 

I know I have been remiss in posting the amount a recipe will make, so here, for the first time (I think) is the quantity:

Makes 6-8 side dish portions or 3-4 dinner-sized portions.
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*It is officially the Italian way to put a heap of Parmesan on top of whatever you may be eating, whether it be soup, meat, or dessert.  (Okay, I'm kidding about the dessert.)  But you can leave it off if you have lactose issues, or are having difficulty finding cruelty-free dairy options.  I will confess that this is a frustration of mine as well.  All the Fancy Dancy Grocers I've ever been to have all kinds of specialty liquid dairy and, to some extent, yogurt options.  In the realm of liquid dairy, I am pretty sure if I wanted to find milk from a genetically-modified emu raised in a host family from Honduras where it was given a primary education and attended church with the family once a week, I could.  But when it comes to actual cheese, mysteriously there are no longer any choices.  "But what if I want to know if the cows who were integral in the making of this cheese lived lives similar to a cow's natural inclinations and also not fed gummy worms because grain or hay was too expensive (not making this up)?" I mentally ask the Fancy Dancy Grocers.  "Too bad for you," imply the Fancy Dancy Grocers with their lack of options.
 

Mozzarella Cheese "Burgers"

Yes.  I am writing a blog post about the Holy Grail of vegetarian eating: the ground beef substitute that is satisfactory enough to be called a "burger" and not "flavorless stick patty" or "interesting and tasty concept but wildly divergent from any experience I have ever had of beef".  Of the two, I clearly prefer the latter, and have had some good vegetarian patties, both from small independent restaurants and from chains.  Black beans appear to make a pretty dang good pattie for a burger, especially if they are seasoned well.  However, in this case the alternative I am about to present to you will probably disappoint.  I have not concocted any new spin on the bean pattie.  I have not discovered some exotic plant compound that is exactly like ground beef yet contains no meat.  What I actually discovered: mozzarella cheese makes a darn good burger.  Call it a "burger" if it offends you to refer to what is basically a cheese sandwich as a true burger. 

How did this happen?

I had the fixings for a burger, having had a serious meat craving after a particularly strenuous exercise class and subsequently went on a spontaneous grocery store run still in sweaty work-out clothes to purchase the necessaries for satisfying this craving.  (FYI if you haven't eaten more than one or two helpings of meat a week for over six months, it's not a good idea to buy a pound package of ground turkey with the intention of destroying it in hamburger form.  It will not go well for you!  But I was way less sore than I have been after similar classes, so I may continue the tradition of protein-loading after the fact.)  Returning to the subject, all the aforementioned meat was gone, while I still had a ton of hamburger buns and toppings.  Enter the mozzarella cheese.  It was tasty!  And, more to the point, it tasted a lot like a real, actual burger.  Maybe because of the secret fact that we all take for granted if we grow up eating meat: meat, in itself, does not have a lot of flavor.  Don't get me wrong: it does have a flavor.  It's just not usually a strong flavor (unless we're talking about goat or lamb).  Mozzarella is a mild but toothsome cheese, especially when it is partially melted.  It does not overwhelm the burger fixings, while still contributing something to the whole.  And texture-wise, it does not lay down and become flaccid like most cheeses will when melted.  It fights back.  It has a bite!  Yes.  Like carrots in Bolognese sauce, it's actually a true and, if I may say so myself, a pretty good meat substitute.  With that, I give you:

Mozzarella Cheese "Burgers"
Per burger:
1 bun
a couple of slices of tomato
1-2 lettuce leaves
some onion (if that's your thing)
and...about 4 ounces of mozzarella cheese, cut into long strips.
(All of the things you love on your favorite burger would also be fine: portabella mushrooms, onion rings, BBQ sauce, avocado, whatever it is you like.  I just had the first four things.)

I don't know about the mechanics of grilling one of these.  Here are the stove-top directions: get all your fixings ready (ie tomato, lettuce, etc.).  Heat a small skillet over medium heat with just a dab of oil-- enough to brown the bun halves in.  Once the oil is hot enough, put the bun halves in face down.  While they're doing that, put your cheese slices on a plate and put them in the microwave.  (This is crucial.)  Microwave them for 10-15 seconds, or until they are just turning soft.  That way, when you put them on the bun in the pan, they will finish getting melty but will not turn into actual gooiness.  (Or, like mine did, get gooey in the microwave and require me to actually scrape my cheese off the plate and sculpt it onto the bun, with serious hang-over all around.)  Flip your bun halves over to face up.  Put the mozzarella slices on one half.  Put the fixings on top.  Put the top half of the bun on.  Grill the whole thing in the pan for another minute or so, until the cheese gets melty.  Enjoy.

Two Kinds of Dinner Tacos / Stubbornness

I bought a package of tortillas intending to make quick, week-day quesadillas for a lunch or dinner.  (Or both!  I've been pretty busy.)  Instead, I realized that I had a serious amount of vegetables in my fridge or from the garden that needed to be cooked before they went bad.  So, I included them in my quesadillas...and then decided I didn't really feel like cheese...and ended up with what I will call "Dinner Tacos", because they are sort of like Mexican Breakfast Tacos except with more dinner-y ingredients.  For those who are unaware, Breakfast Tacos are the original inspiration for McDonald's' "Breakfast Burrito".  Basically, the Breakfast Burrito is the same thing as a breakfast taco.  IE, a tortilla filled with varying combinations of eggs, cheese, potatoes, and breakfast meats like sausage (chorizo) or bacon.  I ended up with two pretty good variations that I'm going to share with you: Summer Squash Dinner Tacos, and Eggs & Hash Dinner Tacos.

Summer Squash Dinner Tacos

3-4 small straight neck or crookneck yellow squash, cut into rounds

1 orange, red, or yellow bell pepper, chopped

1 red onion, chopped Italian style (strips, not cubes)

2 tomatoes, chopped

1/4 tsp. Old Bay seasoning

1/2 tsp. salt

a sprinkling of cayenne pepper (I'm not going to get into the esoterica of the exact meaning of "a dash", so basically, "a small amount that is suitable to your tastes", whatever that means to you.)

a sprinkling of Italian seasoning (I used about 1/2 tsp., but it could do without it)

3-4 tortillas

cooking oil

Summer Squash Dinner Taco filling

Heat the oil in a medium to large skillet over medium heat until sizzling hot.  Toss in the squash first and let them cook until reasonably tender.  (If they are young and fresh, they'll cook fairly quickly, but they still take a little longer than the rest of the ingredients.)  Add in the chopped bell pepper while the squash is still about half done.  When the squash and peppers are cooked, add in the onion and saute until tender (just another minute or so).  Add in the tomatoes last, letting them sizzle and release all those good juices you see in the picture.  (These were tomatoes from my Grandad's garden, and they were primo.)  When all your veggies are all cooked, remove them to a serving dish, juices and all.  Then, either get out a clean skillet or do like I did and use the same one without bothering to clean it-- it really didn't make any difference-- and toss your tortillas in it one at a time and toast them.  Serve your filling wrapped up, taco-style, in your toasted tortillas.  This should amply serve 3-4.

Toasting your tortillas is actually an important step.  A store-bought tortilla that you take the time to toast becomes a slightly crispy delight that the same tortilla straight out of the refrigerator cannot match.  It's a little tricky, so let me break it down. 

How to Toast a Tortilla

Step 1: Heat a dry skillet or electric griddle to medium heat

Step 2: Toss your tortillas on there, giving yourself enough room to flip them over.

Step 3: Let them toast on one side until small air pockets start to swell into medium air pockets on the side of the tortilla you can see (the top).

Step 4: Flip the tortilla.  You'll know you let it toast long enough on the backside if the top now has golden-browned round circles (the bottoms of the air pockets you saw). 

Step 5: Let the tortilla toast on the other side until the air pockets start to form again-- or-- the tortilla sort of swells up a little in one large air pocket.  Toasting the other side happens pretty quickly-- in a few seconds or so-- and you really can't go wrong.  A properly toasted-on-one-side tortilla is better than a burnt tortilla.  Unless you're in the "burnt marshmallows in my smores" camp (which I am) in which case a slightly burnt tortilla is okay.

Eggs and Hash Dinner Tacos

2 eggs

1 potato

1 large carrot or 2 small carrots

cooking oil

1/4 tsp. paprika

salt to taste

1-2 tortillas

Chop your potatoes into small cubes.  Do the same for your carrots.  Heat your oil over medium heat until a drop of water tossed into the pan sizzles.  Put the carrots and potatoes in the pan and cook them until they are both tender, letting them rest for the first few minutes of cooking them (meaning not stirring them around), and then stirring them to cook all sides evenly about 2-3 more times at intervals.  Add in a little more oil, then the salt and paprika, allowing the spice to sizzle and toast in the oil.  Stir everything around to coat the potatoes and carrots with the spices, then spreading them in an even layer on the bottom of the skillet.  Now, crack both your eggs on top of the hash, muddling them around a little bit to break the yolks and allow the whites to run down into the crevices between the individual pieces of potato and carrot.  Cook a little while longer, until the egg whites are set and the egg yolks are beginning to set.  (Or however long until the eggs are cooked the way you like them.)  Push the entire contents of the pan onto a plate, then use the skillet to toast a tortilla or two by the method described above.  Eat up!

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Just for the record, I wasn't always a good cook.  However, my desire for household thrift has remained unchanged, if not increased.  Put those two together: bad cook + cheap cook.  Fortunately, no one but myself has ever been subjected to my experiments in Home Economics.  Much like the aforementioned lab experiments, things did not always go according to plan.

Example the First: Weeds from the Yard

At some point in my older childhood, someone or some book somewhere told me people could eat things that commonly grew in the yard.  Much like the 1=0 situation (I am my mother's daughter), my eventual action on this piece of knowledge was delayed, possibly for God's increased entertainment.  The end result, however, was that my mom told me to go cook dinner and came in to find a large bowl of weeds from yard sitting on the dinner table.  Uncooked.  Unchopped.  Unwashed.  Roots still on.  I took my information literally!  This did not go down well with my mother.  I think we ate spaghetti instead accompanied by a side of lecture.

Example the Second: Dorm Hotdogs

This example could also be subtitled "that summer where I got diarrhea at least once a week."  I was living on loans, and it was the beginning of a summer term.  Being as I mentioned before, thrifty, I felt that it was perfectly reasonable to make use of an unopened package of hotdogs that undoubtedly had been left by a previous inmate at the end of the spring semester.  I believe I recall observing them over the course of a couple of weeks (at least) in order to make perfectly sure I was not stealing someone else's hotdogs.  Anyway, I eventually put them in something-- I can't remember what-- and ate them.  The success was short-lived.  See the alternate subtitle.  Undeterred by my experiences, I went on to do the same thing with a half-package of ground beef that I had personally bought and wanted to finish up.  Repeat of the same experience.  After a while, my gastric adventures became the source of much conversation among my suitemates.  I'm not sure why I was so stubborn about eating half-spoiled food.  All I know is that I was stubborn!  I still am.  But I no longer intentionally eat rotten food.

 

Persian Split Pea Loaf / Grounds for Mother-in-law Divorce

Anyone who's been reading this blog for awhile may have noticed that the amount of "traditional Italian" recipes has dropped off sharply.  The reason for this is that I am running out of family recipes.  Believe me, I have pestered and pestered my family, because technically this blog is for them, but apparently they are just not buying into the whole "my recipes at my fingertips" thing.  So, I still cook Italian food, and when I make up an Italian recipe worth publishing, I publish it.  But sometimes I just cook straight out of a recipe book and, you know, I'm not legally entitled to "post" that on "the internet" so that "strangers" can access it "for free".  Especially now that I'm in the middle of Molto Batali by Mario Batali.  Sure, he's smiling on the cover, but he might just come kick my cute laptop across the room, all for the children's sake.  (His cookbook's proceeds go in part to this children's charity he started.) It's a good cookbook, although definitely not the kind of Italian food I'm used to getting from the Grandmom's kitchen.  I'd be willing to bet it's from a different region of Italy.  (The Canduci family is from Southern Italy/Sicily and Grandpop's mom couldn't cook, so it doesn't matter where she was from.  More on that later.)  So, the upshot is, when I have a recipe I made up myself, or is the intellectual property of my family, I'll pass it on to you.  But there are no guarantees about it being Italian!  Oh, why I am even worrying, the top three recipes on this blog are: Okra and Potatoes (Southern), Hot Dog, Pork & Beans, and Cabbage Casserole (from the Notorious Fifties), and Pizza Gein, the only Italian favorite.

Persian Split Pea Loaf

2 C. cooked split peas, drained
1/2 red onion, sliced
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. garlic powder
1/4 tsp. coriander
1/4 tsp. paprika
1 tsp. salt
2 TB. tomato paste
1/3 C. vegetable or chicken stock*
1/4 C. golden raisins
1/4-1/3 C. oatmeal**
2-3 TB. cooking oil
1 egg

Preheat the oven to 400F.  Heat the oil in a saucepan over medium heat.  Saute the onion until it's soft.  Add in the spices and let them sizzle around for about a minute.  Add in the golden raisins and stir to coat them in the spices.  Add in the tomato paste, salt, and chicken stock, and stir everything up so that you have a fairly thick broth in the bottom of your pan.  Let that bubble another minute or so.  Dump your split peas into a mixing bowl.  Add in the broth mixture, the oatmeal, and the egg, stirring everything well to blend it all together.  Pour the mixture into a lightly-greased glass loaf pan, then cover it with tinfoil.  Bake for 40 minutes covered, then remove it from the oven and check for doneness with a toothpick inserted into the middle of the loaf.  (It should come out moist but clean, with no crumbs or goo.)  Once you pass the toothpick test, remove the tinfoil and bake the loaf for another 10 minutes uncovered.  Remove it from the oven for good and let it rest 10 minutes before attempting to slice it.  Serve each slice drizzled with ketchup if you so desire.
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I have been trying to achieve this dish for a while now, in fact since the very beginning of my "almost vegetarian" attempt.  Finally, success!

*I used chicken stock, but it would probably taste just as good with vegetable.

**I used instant maple-flavored, and it really added something extra.  If you don't have a spare packet of maple-flavored instant oatmeal lying around, I recommend adding a little real maple syrup to the spice blend.
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Apparently I am now an adult enough for Grandmom to share with me her stories about her mother-in-law, whom she hated.  In Grandmom's defense, she loved her father-in-law, who was by all reports a lovely man.  However, Mrs. Chiarello was a whole other story.  One day over "The Bachelor", or some other equally awful tv show (what can I say, Grandmom loves reality tv) Grandmom unloaded to me about Assunta "Susan" Chiarello.  Crime the First: she couldn't cook.  According to Grandmom, this is what killed my Uncle Ron's namesake, her father-in-law Rafael Chiarello.  Grandmom also blames Grandpop's being such a picky eater, plague of her (Grandmom's) life (being just as adventurous in the kitchen as I am) on Assunta's lack of cooking ability.  Crime the Second: she did not have an appropriate respect for hygiene.  When Grandmom and Grandpop were first married, they lived with his parents until they could save up to buy a house, and you know this was in the fifties so that was only expected to be a couple of years.  Fast-forward to far longer than Grandmom wanted to live with her inlaws: the birth of the aforementioned Uncle Ron.  Grandmom comes into the living room one day and sees her mother-in-law laughing her head off.  She comes around the couch to see what it's all about, and it's my uncle, chewing on a house slipper.  The next day, Grandmom went out and bought a house.  Two doors down from her own mother.  And that is where she and Grandpop have lived ever since.  Crime the Third: she was a notorious liar.  After Grandmom and Grandpop moved out, word got back to her that her mother-in-law was passing it around that "she (Assunta) had kicked them out".  Later on, I guess Grandmom gained her approval, because when she went to nurse Assunta in the hospital at the end of her life, she discovered that Assunta had been telling all the nurses that she (Grandmom) was her (Assunta's) daughter.  Grandmom was incensed. How dare that awful woman be claiming her?  Have you ever seen an 80-year old woman say "ugh" out loud?  I have.

Stuffed Red Cabbage / Godzilla in the Kitchen

This is apparently the year I discover cabbage. It has also been the year I discovered eggplant. Two vegetables that I previously bore no ill will towards, but had no pressing need to eat. I had half a raw cabbage leftover from making the Blue Cabbage Pasta that I used instead of the green cabbage called for in one of the two seed recipes that inspired this, and I am so glad I did. (Incidentally, for those of us who do not have the free time to make homemade pasta, which is usually also me, Blue Cabbage Pasta would probably be pretty darn tasty with some high-quality dried egg noodles, or perhaps fresh asian egg noodles from the refrigerator case that some groceries stock).   I guess I should be more specific when I say that I am discovering cabbage.  I am discovering red cabbage. It holds its own in a pot of boiling water, makes everything it touches a beautiful, petroleum-dye-free blue that does not stain one's countertops, and has a mild spicy zip that mellows into buttery goodness when cooked. Yes, I have a crush on red cabbage. 

Stuffed Red Cabbage

1/2 head of red cabbage
3 medium-sized potatoes
1 parsnip
8 oz. ricotta cheese (I would make it fresh next time--store bought always seems so grainy to me)
1 red onion
2 eggs
oil for cooking
salt to taste
cayenne pepper to taste (a brief sprinkle was fine for me)
1/2 jar of good quality tomato sauce (yes I used sauce out of a jar, so sue me)
toothpicks (are nice, but you could get by without them)

This picture does not even do it justice.

Wash the half head of cabbage.  Put it in a pot, and fill the pot with water until the cabbage is covered.  (This, by the way, is also how you avoid setting your house on fire when you try to put the turkey in the turkey deep-fryer.  Planning ahead: a valuable skill.  Displacement: thank you, Science.)  Set the cabbage aside, add a little salt to the water, and bring the water to a boil on the stove.  Then put the cabbage in and cook it until it's tender, about 6-8 minutes.  Remove it from the water and put it in a bowl filled with cool water.  (Just tap water is fine, it doesn't have to have ice floating in it or anything.)  Anyway, while your cabbage is boiling, peel and coarsely chop your potatoes and parsnip.  Put them in some boiling water and let them cook until tender.  Drain and set aside.  Returning to the cabbage: gently peel off the cabbage's leaves one by one until you've either peeled them all off or discovered an uncooked inner core to your cabbage.  (This happened to me, but it works out in the end.)  Set the cooked and intact leaves aside (6-8ish of them).  Take the remaining cabbage and chop it finely.  Slice the red onion.  Heat some oil in a large skillet, and saute the onions for a minute or two, then add in the cabbage.  Let it cook until the chopped cabbage is soft.  While that's happening, mash your cooked potatoes and parsnips and add in a little cayenne pepper, salt to taste, and your ricotta cheese and eggs.  Preheat the oven to 425F.  When the cabbage and onions are cooked, fold them into the mixture of mashed potatoes and parsnips.  Get out a 9-inch x 13-inch glass baking dish.  One at a time, gently take a cabbage leaf and lay it on a flat surface.  (I just used the bottom of the casserole.)  Fill the middle with a heaping spoonful of mashed potato mixture.  (About the size of a stress ball.)  Fold the sides of the leaf over the top to make a packet, then either secure it with a toothpick or just lay it seam-side down in the dish.  Repeat until you've used up all your whole leaves.  If you have potato mixture left (I did), nestle the remaining amount in around the cabbage packets.  Pour the tomato sauce over the top of it all.  Cover the dish with foil and bake for about 30 minutes. 
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If it wouldn't give away too much secret information about my kitchen (like that it is small, and has appliances that are from the eighties) I would post a picture of it post-cooking all this business.  It looked like Godzilla invaded Tokyo ergo my kitchen with a willful need to leave vegetable peels all over the place, was surprised by a funny joke with a mouthful of cabbage juice, and also ate off every dish in my house.  Grandmom is way neater than that when she cooks.  Her kitchen looks like one of those photos from a ladies' magazine where they show the glossy-smiled famous person looking matronly as she pulls a perfectly-baked something out of the oven, with nary a sticky mixing bowl or bloody styrofoam meat package in the background.  I don't know how she does it, even after all these years of watching her cook.  I even have a dishwasher, and my kitchen is clean by the end of it all, but Grandmom, although she has one, does not actually use her dishwasher and her kitchen is still spotless even when she is frying those delicious porkchop cutlets.  I chalk it up to Grandmom being Martha Stewart's original inspiration.  It's true.  Grandmom may not handmake her own ricotta cheese, and has to be coaxed away from the can of cream-of soup, but she is the undisputed Queen of the Kitchen.  So much so that Great-grandmom even snookered her into "helping" her make homemade grape jelly one year.  Did I mention Grandmom has five siblings?  Who else helped?  Nobody.  Afterwards, Grandmom told Great-grandmom (who she lived two houses down from, by the way) to "find somebody else next year."  Great-grandmom said, "Who?"  Grandmom whipped back with "Julie!"  Great-grandmom protested that "she was the baby" (mind you, they were all married and had children of their own by this point), but in the end Grandmom never helped make grape jelly again!

Beefy Pizza Gein

So I was so inspired by my Pascua Pizza Gein that I decided to experiment with making another version of it that followed the same general concept (slightly eggy meaty cheesy filling in a yummers crust) but yet that did not explicitly involve salami.  Although I do love the original Pizza Gein, salami, pepperoni, and all.  So here is the fruit of my effort and I think it is pretty delicious.  Also, I have discovered that it would be fairly easy to make any combination of ingredients Pizza Gein-style, so feel free to experiment.

Beefy Pizza Gein

Filling
8 oz. flank steak, cut into thin slices
12 oz. frozen peas, cooked in salted water
8 oz. white cheddar cheese, deli-sliced and then cut into squares
salt and pepper to taste
2 eggs

Crust
1-1/2 C. flour
1 egg, lightly beaten
1/2 tsp. pepper
1-2 TB.shortening
1/4 C. water

Mix the pepper and flour together.  Blend the shortening into the flour.  Add in the egg and then the water.  Turn out onto a work surface and knead 5-7 minutes or until smooth and elastic.  Let rest awhile.  In the meantime, preheat the oven to 400F.  Cook your meat in a little oil in the bottom of a deep pan until it is mostly done.  (Remember, it's going to spend time in the oven, too.)  Add in the peas and toss and let them rewarm if you cooked them previously.  Turn all into a bowl and blend in the cheese, then the eggs.  At this point divide your dough into two portions and roll out each portion so that it will fit into a 6-inch x 9-inch glass baking dish.  Lay the first portion of dough in the dish, then pour in the filling.  Top with the second half of the dough, sealing together the edges.  Put the whole shebang in the oven and bake for about 30 minutes, or until the Pizza Gein is set and the crust is lightly brown.  (By the way, I forgot to cut any vents in my crust and nothing bad happened.  I guess because the crust is so short it's not so prone to making large air pockets.  So feel free to also not cut vents into your own crusts.)  This makes 6-8 hearty portions.  Don't underestimate the meat pie; it's very filling, so a piece about the size of a generous slice of cornbread (ie 3 inches square or so) will be plenty as your main dish. 

Blue Cabbage Pasta / The Temptations of Cheese Powder

half a medium-sized head of red cabbage, washed and cut into thin strips
half an onion, cut into rounds
oil for cooking
salt to taste
1-1/2 C. flour
2 eggs
a rolling pin (seriously, you need one to make this)
1/2 C. fresh grated parmesan cheese

Ahead of time, combine the flour with a little salt, if you like (I used about 1/2 tsp).  Lightly beat the eggs in a separate bowl, then combine them with the flour.  Add in a little water for consistency-- around 1/4 C.  The dough will look pretty loose.  Wash your hands (do I need to say this?) and then stick them down in the bowl and squirsh the dough until it starts to come together, about three-four squirshes.  Yes, that's a word.  It's onomonopoeic, and it means what you think it means: "squishing with extra squish."  Once the dough is a single lump, turn it out onto a (clean) counter and knead it until it's smooth and elastic, about 10 minutes.  Set it aside to let it rest while you do other things.  (Your dough should be able to rest about 30 minutes.)  Get your pasta pot ready but don't turn the heat on: add in about 4 cups of water, 1/2 tsp. salt, and a splash of oil.  Heat some more oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat.  When it's hot enough, add in the onions and cook them until they're soft.  Then add in the cabbage and cook it until it's soft, stirring it as necessary.  (This takes a bit longer-- about 15 minutes.)  Salt to taste.  When it's ready, roll out your dough into 1/8th inch (3 mm) thickness.  Cut it into strips about 1/2 inch (1 cm) wide , then cut the strips about 3 inches (7 cm) long.  Set them aside on a plate.  For style points, twist each strip into a tight spiral.  Bring the cooking water to a boil.  Dump the fresh pasta into the water.  Remove it when it floats to the top.  Put the cooked cabbage into a large serving bowl.  Pour about 1/2 C. of the pasta water over top.  Put your hot pasta into the bowl.  Toss everything together to coat, including your parmesan cheese. 

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This is a labor-intensive but delectable dish that combines a healthy vegetable with the indulgence of homemade pasta.  I called it "Blue Cabbage Pasta" because red cabbage, when you cook it, ends up looking a beautiful purple-blue.  It makes a large serving bowlful (about 8-10 servings as a main dish), so cut the recipe in half if you're not so into leftovers.  By the way, I'm writing this while eating caramel and artificial cheese-flavored popcorn, and I just had to stop myself from wiping my hands on the carpet.  So please do not ever think I'm Martha Stewart.  I'm pretty sure Martha Stewart is never even tempted to wipe her hands on the carpet.  In my defense, that cheese powder is so sticky that you almost instictively want to get it off your hands, and no, I didn't actually wipe my hands on the carpet.  I just almost did.

Cornflake Porkchops / Sitting on the Patio with Grandmom

Cornflake Pork Chops

4-6 thin pork chops (sometimes packaged as "breakfast chops"-- or you can slice or pound pork tenderloin into 1/2-inch thickness)
1 C. lightly crushed cornflake cereal (don't pulverize it to powder-- there should still be recognizable pieces of flake)
2-3 eggs, lightly beaten
1/2 C. flour
Oil for cooking
salt and pepper to taste

Put the crushed cornflakes, flour, and eggs individually (i.e. not mixed with each other) into three pie pans or deep plates.  Heat the oil in a skillet over medium heat.  Salt and pepper the chops on each side.  Dredge them in: the flour, the egg, and the cornflakes.  Fry them in the skillet on both sides until they are a light golden brown.  It's important not to overheat your oil initially, because ideally your coating should be crisp and brown and your chop fully cooked at the same time.  Too hot: burnt on the outside, raw on the inside.  Too cool: soggy on the outside, done on the inside.  For most stoves, the "medium" setting, whatever that is, is just right.  Basically, your chops should sizzle and fry without an excessive amount of popping, snapping, or volume.  Drain your chops on whatever it is that you like to drain things.  Serve hot!  They are pretty good leftover, too.

I don't know if you've noticed by now, but a lot of times an Italian's idea of the ideal thing to do with meat is to fry it.  This comes in a close second to stewing it in a sauce and serving it over pasta.  This is a modern, but very Italian-themed, take on the first option.  It comes straight out of Grandmom's kitchen, and has even been adopted by my uncle Ron, whose family deeply appreciates his firm grasp of hearty homestyle cooking.
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This is one of my favorite Grandmom memories.  Grandmom loves to sit out on her patio and watch the world go by.  She likes it even more if someone sits out there with her.  Since Grandpop does not like to sit out on the patio, she especially enjoys when I visit and sit out on the patio with her.  (Grandpop is inside, enjoying time on the couch with his first love, Bob Barker.)

So, one afternoon between lunch and supper, we sat out.  Cars passed, the wind blew, the flowers on the patio sat there-- it was a rare kind of pleasure that doesn't take place as often anymore.  I gazed off into the middle distance, which is occupied in Grandmom's neighborhood by a couple of local businesses and large Victorian houses.  On the roof of one of these houses alit two large birds.  They may have been vultures-- it was too far away for me to be sure.  I hadn't yet got over my surprise at seeing two big vultures on the peaked roof of a gingerbread house when they began "doing it."  Knocking boots.  Or, more appropriately since they were birds, knocking buttholes.  I'm serious.  Look it up.   So vigorously, in fact, that I wasn't sure which would happen first: them getting done and flying their separate ways, or them falling off the roof mid-act. 

Grandmom broke me out of my stupefied reverie to say, "Look at that!"  I looked over at her.  "Over there!" she pointed in the vague general direction of where I had been looking.  I immediately began searching around for something else she could have been pointing at.  Maybe the small business next door that has been there since the 50's?  "No!" Grandmom insisted.  "There!  Those two birds!" she continued.  I looked around at her.  "You think they make babies?" 

No let me just interject at this point to state that, as far as I know about their relationship, my grandparents adopted my dad and uncle.  I think I've only seen them kiss two or three times in my life.  We've definitely never had "the talk".  So imagine my astound when my Grandmom turns to me and, in her own words, asks me if she thinks those two large birds are having relations.  Especially when they are.  Over and over again.  Loudly.

"Yes," I answered, "I think they are."

Salmon on Salad

I felt like I should get a theme going with the "easy but not nasty" recipes.  These are definitely not Italian!  But Grandmom would approve of throwing something together out of your own kitchen rather than eating out.  So, with that said, I present to you:

Salmon on Salad
1 slab of freezer-case salmon from the store*
1 head of romain or lettuce of your choice
1-2 C. cooked rice (this depends on how carb-happy you're feeling, and if you want to make enough for leftovers)
marinade of your choice

Pile in this order: lettuce, rice, salmon.  Yum.  Okay, the long version: get out your freezer case salmon and preheat your oven.  Put together your yummy-licious marinade.  For the sake of completeness I will provide some examples, but salmon is a forgiving fish, so you could probably bake it in anything and it would taste good.

Marinade #1--make 2 batches and divide (trust me)
3 TB. soy sauce
3 TB. lemon juice
3 TB. oil just to spread things around

Marinade #2--see above
3 TB. teriyaki sauce
about 1/2 can of beer

Marinade for if You Can't Find Salmon--still make 2 batches
3 TB. ketchup
3 TB. Worcestershire sauce
3 TB. cider vinegar

Easiest Marinade Ever
Your favorite salad dressing.  Some good ones with salmon are: anything "vinaigrette".  Green Goddess-type dressings.  Italian dressing.

For the first two, just whisk the ingredients together in a small bowl.  No matter what, then drizzle the whole amount of ONE batch over your fish.  Reserve the second batch for a use to come later.  Bake your salmon for about 15 minutes or until done.  As for the rice: either plan ahead and start the rice about 15 minutes before you put in the salmon, or utilize some of that gift-from-God freezer case rice.  Or do some minute rice in the microwave in a glass casserole dish filled about half-full of water.  (The yumminess and texture are not the same, but these two alternatives are more foolproof and allow you to do things like preventing your children from drinking the marinade instead.)  Wash and chop your salad greens.  Pull your salmon out of the oven.  Put the lettuce on individual plates.  Put the rice on top.  (About 1/2 C. per person, or whatever you feel like.)  Drizzle the extra marinade you made over the rice.  (You can always make a lot more than I suggested for one batch if you're sauce-happy.  Which I am.)  Put your hot salmon on top.  (One freezer-case salmon will make about six modest portions of meat.)  Drizzle some pan juice over it all if you can get it out of the bottom of the pan.  Eat up!

*If you aren't blessed with a grocery store that stocks freezer case salmon on the cheap, here is another good alternative: on sale flank steak/London broil/pot roast.  Cut up enough for the amount of people eating (at about 4-6 oz/serving) into thin strips (think Teriyaki Beef).  Make your marinade of choice (tomato-saucy marinades go well with beef as well as the above marinades, and also Catalina dressing), then sear your beef in a pan over medium heat ON ONE SIDE ONLY.  Trust me, no one is going to die if you don't flip the beef, and it will be more tender and juicy if you don't.  The side facing the pan will get a medium to dark brown and maybe even a little crisp, but it's okay, that's what it's supposed to do.  (This whole process should take you around 8 minutes.)  Then, put one batch of your marinade into the pan, reduce the heat to medium-low, and let everything get all bubbly for another 3-5 minutes or so.  Then follow the recipe as written.

Turkey Keilbasa Hot Pot / Recipe for a Not-Busy Week

This week has been a busy week, I'm not gonna lie.  However, this is a perfect opportunity to share with you one of my favorite busy-week-but-don't-want-fast-food recipes. 

Turkey Keilbasa Hot Pot
1/2- 1 whole turkey keilbasa (I use, I think, Johnson Hill-- whichever one is the MSG-free one, but some good quality hot dogs would be good in here too)
8 oz. dry pasta
1 large can baked beans, your choice of flavor
2-3 TB. jam (I like apricot or peach)
2-3 TB. ketchup
1-2 tsp. curry powder

Cook the pasta.  Drain and set aside.  Slice the keilbasa or hotdogs.  Open the can of beans.  Dump the keilbasa in the bottom of a saucepan over medium heat.  Let it sizzle around awhile until it starts looking and smelling cooked, about 2-3 minutes.  (Now remember, both hot dogs and keilbasa are actually fully cooked in the package, but they taste a lot better if your get them nice and crispy in the pan, and honestly, it can't hurt to cook any meat a little further.)  Pour the can of beans on top.  Stir the keilbasa all into the beans, and then stir it while it heats up to bubbling hot.  (Not molten lava hot, just tasty hot.)  Stir in the seasonings.  Stir in the cooked pasta.  Cook a little longer until everything is yummy hot again (you know, because the pasta probably cooled things down a little.)  Serve in bowls.  The end.  Yum.  Start to finish this takes about 15 minutes!  If you were feeling less lazy earlier in the week, eat it alongside that nice green salad you have sitting in the fridge. 
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Recipe for a Not-Busy Week

Do not have someone die at work.
Do not get up before the cock crows.
Do not go to bed after the cock crows.
Do not attempt to make contact with the outside world.
Do not do the dishes.  (Natch.)
Do not do the laundry.  (Double-natch.)
Do not fill your car with gas at any time before 10 minutes after you were supposed to hit the interstate for work.

Repeat at least five times in a row for best results.
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I write this as an homage to 50's and 60's era "recipes for a busy week" that invariably appear in church/community cookbooks of the period.  They typically go along the lines of "Catch one rabbit.  Skin and clean the rabbit.  Chop into 1/4-inch pieces.  Stew for approximately 5 hours..." etc. etc. etc. and are basically a smart-ass housewife commentary on how feeding a family homecooking is, in itself, a full-time job.

Small-Batch Pizza Gein

Dough (makes a top and bottom crust)
1-1/3 C. all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp. black pepper
1/4 C. fresh grated parmesan cheese
1 egg, beaten
1/4 C. shortening
1/3 C. water

Don't the eggs make it all pretty?

Filling
1/8th lb. (eg 2 oz.) each, each, each!!!: prosciutto, provalone cheese, italian hard salami, pepperoni
1/4 lb. shredded mozzarella cheese
salt and pepper to taste (use sparingly)
4 eggs, lightly beaten

To make the dough: Combine the flour and the shortening with a fork.  Add in the parmesan, pepper, and water.  Lastly stir in the egg, adding a little bit more water if  you need to for consistency.  The dough should be like a good biscuit dough, but slightly tougher.  Turn it out onto a floured surface, and knead it until smooth and elastic, about 2-3 minutes, adding more flour as necessary to keep it from sticking.  Set it aside to let it rest while you make the filling.

To make the filling: slice all your meats and the provalone cheese into small bites.  Combine them with the eggs, salt and pepper, and the mozzarella cheese in a large bowl. 

Use a 5-inch by 9-inch glass baking dish.  Divide your dough into half.  Roll out the first half to fit the bottom and sides of the dish.  (The dough is fairly workable, so you can press it up the sides of the dish some if it doesn't fit exactly on the first try.)  Pour your filling into this.  Then, you have one of two choices for your top crust.

Option 1: Roll out the second half of the dough the same way you did the bottom crust.  Lay it on top of the filling, crimp the edges of the top and bottom together as you would a pie crust, and cut 3-4 generous slits widthwise in the top to allow steam to escape.  Brush with beaten egg white if desired.

Option 2: Roll out the second half of the dough.  Cut into strips and make a lattice.  Nestle some eggs that you previously boiled and dyed down into the lattices at stategic points.  Brush with beaten egg white if desired.

Either way, bake it all at 350F for about 45 minutes-1 hour, or until the crust is golden brown, the filling is bubbly, and it looks set.  (Remember, there's uncooked eggs in there.)  Let it cool somewhat before attempting to slice it.  This should serve at least 4-6 generous helpings!
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Pizza Gein is one of my favorite all-time foods.  It's traditionally an Easter food, and I think it is definitely worth its own holiday.  As a kid, it was fun to get a piece with a boiled egg in it.  So colorful!  As an adult, making Pizza Gein gives me an excuse to dye eggs.  Oh snap!

For the original, immense batch size, click here.

Creamy Carrot Bolognese Sauce / A Fishy Mystery

I want to say again that I am so thankful that I have readers for this blog.  It really gives me a great deal of joy to chronicle my own and others' food adventures here and know that they will be enjoyed and appreciated. 

My latest adventure is another new take on a recipe from The Northend Italian Cookbook.  (I recently discovered, the 4th edition.  It's not like it was a big secret, I just usually don't take the time to read the dozens of pages of forwards and dedications and introductions and summaries that seem to accompany all published books, including even cookbooks and books of knitting patterns.)  The original recipe was for a Bolognese sauce, which is the authentic version of what we all usually think of when we picture the "meat sauce" part of "spaghetti with meat sauce".  Now, let me state for the record once again that I do not think that eating meat is intrinsically evil, especially if the animal in question was humanely raised and humanely led out of this life so that we could enjoy and benefit from it.  But, I think it is an uncontestable statement to say that we should all probably eat less meat for a variety of reasons, not the least of which because we are making ourselves FAT and are giving ourselves heart conditions and colon cancer.  So, I modified this recipe to be a good "weekday/meat free" alternative, but you could use the meat of your choice in place of the substitute I offer, which is....carrots. 

I know.  I'm a card-carrying member of the nut club in your minds now, right?  Carrots?  Carrots?  Yes, carrots.  "Why carrots?" you may ask.  Because...and here is another personal revelation...I think meat substitutes are nasty.  They start life almost flavorless (not taking into account their own natural flavors, which are usually odd, to say the least) and with a variety of textures to appall.  So I tend to avoid them in my cooking and in my eating.  So, since I've lately been exploring ways of cooking and eating less meat without sacrificing my favorite foods and flavors, I've been exploring vegetable options to replace the texture and role that the meat portion of some of my favorite recipes.  The eggplant experiment in my personal experience, wildly successful.  For further support of eggplant, I offer you this example: I once cooked some fried eggplant for a former boyfriend, who came across it later and ate it, totally unaware, he told me afterwards, that it was not the fish I had meant to cook.  So, with that in mind, I bring you:

Creamy Carrot Bolognese Sauce
4 large carrots, peeled and cubed*
1 small onion, chopped the Italian way (into slivers rather than cubes)
1 28oz (850mL) can ground or crushed tomatoes
2 cloves garlic, minced
3-4 sprigs fresh parsley, minced
salt and pepper to taste, red pepper flakes or cayenne to taste
2/3 C. white wine (I used the aformentioned muscato)
cooking oil (olive oil, if you have it)
1/2 C. (120 mL)
about 1lb (450g) hot cooked pasta (I actually put it over cooked split peas with flavorful success, but I admit that this is a little more experimental than most people are willing to be when it comes to their Italian staples)

Heat the oil in a saucepot over medium heat.  Add in the carrots and let them sizzle and cook for about 5 minutes.  You can actually chop the rest of the things that need to be chopped while this is happening and cut your total preparation/cooking time down.  Anyhow, after the carrots have had their time in the saucepot hot tub alone, toss in the onions and garlic and let them sizzle with the carrots for another 2-3 minutes.  Add in the wine.  Let it reduce, another 2-3 minutes.  Add in the crushed tomatoes, parsley, and the seasonings.  My canned tomatoes came with some added salt, so I actually didn't put in any additional salt at all and that was just right.  Put the cover on the saucepot, reduce the heat to medium-low (a fastish simmer) and let it cook, stirring it every so often, for about 15 minutes.  You can use this time to find your pasta in the cabinet (emphasis find if you live in a place with limited cabinet space in the kitchen) and get it cooked and drained.  At the very end of the cooking time, remove the sauce from the heat and add in the cream, stirring it to blend.  The end!  Serve it over your pasta.  It's good just the way it is, although some parmesan is never amiss with most Italian dishes.  This makes a good bit of sauce.  I made a full batch and set some aside to use for eggplant parmesan.
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*Cubing carrots is not as hard as it sounds.  After you get them peeled, instead of cutting them from end to end into disks, cut each individual carrot into 2-3 sections, making your cuts where the carrot obviously changes sizes as it tapers from the big end to the small end.  Then, cut each section in half.  Cut each half into 3 strips longways.  Holding all the strips together, cut from end to end.  These are not perfect cubes, mind you.  This is not the haute cuisine cordon blue mirepoix carrot cutting method.  This is just the simplest way to get carrots into cube-like pieces.

Parmesan Patties in Onion Cream Sauce

1 lb hot cooked pasta

Patties
1 lb ground turkey
1 C. parmesan cheese
salt and pepper to taste
2 eggs

Mix all together.  (If you want, you can cook all of them with this dish, but what I did was save about 2/3rds of the mixture in the freezer as premade meatballs.  So you may want to double the sauce recipe (or more) if you want to serve all the patties at once.)  Heat 3TB (1/2 a stick of butter) in a large skillet.  Fry the patties on both sides over medium to medium-low heat (so they don't brown too fast and do get cooked all the way through).  Set aside.  DO NOT DISCARD THE BUTTER IN THE PAN.

Sauce
1 large onion, chopped into slivers (ie, stop chopping them one step before you get cubes)
1/2 C. cream
salt and pepper to taste
the rest of the stick of butter

Scrape the browned bits off the bottom of the pan.  Melt the butter in it.  Saute the onions in the pan until they are soft.  Reduce the heat to low.  Add in the cream and stir to mix well.  Season with salt and pepper to taste.  Pour the sauce over the turkey patties to comingle the flavors --or-- Serve each plate individually with pasta, patties, then a generous helping of sauce.
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This is my own take on a recipe from The Northend Italian Cookbook, "Saporite de Manzo".  I felt it deserved a rename because my version differs in some of the ingredients and quantities and also does NOT have any balsamic vinegar, and therefore probably tastes a lot different.

I really wanted to add some white wine to the sauce-- I had even bought some muscato at the liquor store-- but the cheap corkscrew I bought literally broke off in the bottle.  It was a hot mess.  I had to dig most of the cork out crumb by crumb with: a steak knife, my bare hands, and a long knitting needle.  The rest came out stuck to the bottom of the corkscrew or ended up in my wine.  Ugh.  So, needless to say, my wine-adding plans were scuttled when the corkscrew broke off in my wine bottle, since making a sauce is a time-sensitive operation that doesn't really allow for 30 minutes of cork-mining and I therefore had to set that project aside and finish making my dinner.  If you want to add wine, what you would do is: after you've removed the cooked patties from the cooking pan, add in the wine (about 1/4 C.) and let it bubble and moil about while you scrape the brown bits off the bottom of the pan.  Then, once all that's done with, add in the additional butter and continue with the recipe as written.  However, the oniony sauce as it is was pretty good, especially mixed with the flavor of the parmesan cheese in the patties.

When I made my pasta, I actually cooked a half pound of pasta and a half pound of frozen peas together.  I think it was yummy, but you could go with plain pasta, too.

Butteriest Butter / Great-grandmom Pulls her Tricks

You know that butter you get in a seafood restaurant to dip your crab legs or lobster in?  That butter that is somehow the epitome of butter, and of the concept of butteriness?  Well, today I discovered how to make it.  No, it's not just melted butter.  And no, it's definitely not vegetarian.  But it's great on anything!

1 stick of butter
1 clove of garlic, minced
3 anchovy filets, drained and patted dry (I didn't pat mine, but I guess you could)

Melt the butter in a small saucepan.  Once it's all melted and also stopped foaming for the most part (only a few seconds after it finishes melting), toss in the minced garlic and let it sizzle for a few seconds.  Then, remove the butter from the heat and throw in the anchovy filets.  Mash them up as much as you can, prefereably with a wooden spoon.
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That's it.  I served it over cooked cauliflower today and I couldn't get enough of it.  Not that I dislike cauliflower to begin with.  I am an adult and buy my own groceries, so I don't have to eat cauliflower if I didn't like it.  Which I do, and I did.  But that was some of the most badass cauliflower I've ever eaten.  This sauce was also poured over hot cooked spaghetti or linguine by Great-grandmom Canduci, and while I can't recall ever having it, my mom liked it so much that, despite not even liking anchovies, she still remembers that pasta and how delicious it was.  The secret is that you can't taste the anchovies, at least not in the traditional sense.  They are definitely the "secret ingredient", but the end product is not fishy or even oily.  Just buttery.  So deliciously buttery!

Grand-grandmom Canduci was a card.  I got reminded of some good stories about her when I was putting up the broccoli rabe post, and decided I would share them.

Gardening: see "How to Get a Free Trip to the Grocery Store"

Great-grandmom was a wiley and resourceful old fox and, according to her children, a wiley and resourceful young fox too.  Great-grandmom's method of getting stuff done around the house that she needed to delegate or just didn't want to do herself was to rope the unsuspecting bystander (read: family member) in with a statement something along the lines of "Hey, can you come help me with this?"  Who's to turn down a sweet old Italian lady?  HAH!  Inevitably you would look up from pulling weeds or whatever it was you were "helping her" with and she would be gone!  She even did this to me with the crab grass in her front walk, and she died when I was about 8 years old so I know I must have been a fairly small child at the time.  Wiley indeed!  To pull her tricks even with a little child!  I remember the deep sense of irritation I felt. 

This is also the method Great-grandmom used when, in her later years, she needed a ride to the grocery store.  "Can you give me ride?  Is on the way!" she would ask innocently.  "Of course!" was the only allowable answer-- remember, this is the woman who smacked her own adult sons with the wooden spoon she was cooking with for failing to compliment her cooking.  (FYI: the answer is always "Oh, it is so delicious," to an Italian woman.  Otherwise: smacking.)  So, the driver in question would load up Great-grandmom and drive over the the Acme ("Ack-em-mah") and she would then turn to them and say, innocently, "Oh, can you help me carry groceries?  Is only a few things.  Short trip."  So, the driver would get out of the car (remember, at this point she or he has been promised that it will be "short trip" that is "on the way", meaning the driver still has other business to attend to) and become more and more incredulous as Great-grandmom worked her way through the entire grocery and at least one full cartload.  It's obvious that her victims (read: family members) were truly fooled only a few times.  But what are you going to say to Great-grandmom?  No?  No.  In fact, you beat her at her own game, if you could, by claiming to have a strict appointment that you were running late for, or almost out of gas.  Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't.

Broccoli Rabe Patties

About 1 lb broccoli rabe (also known as "rapini")
1-2 eggs
1/2 to 1 C. fresh bread crumbs
oil for frying

Steam the broccoli rabe until done, 2-5 minutes.  Strain, let cool slightly, then chop into small pieces.  In a bowl, mix together the broccoli rabe, eggs, and fresh breadcrumbs*.  Make into patties and fry like a hamburger in a little oil.  Serve as is or on a bun!
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*I say fresh breadcrumbs because they're basically the only binder in this recipe.  Otherwise you would just have an omelet, also very Italian, but which does not fit the recipe's description of something you can "fry like a hamburger".  For the record, the original recipe omitted the instruction to make them into patties, but did stipulate that you fry it like a hamburger.  Hamburgers come in patties right?  Judi, please correct me if I'm misreading the original recipe.

Pan-Fried Zucchini Flower Omelet

Several dozen zucchini flowers (enough to make 1-2 C.)
1 green pepper, chopped
1 onion, chopped italian style*
1 zucchini, sliced thinly
1 potato, sliced thinly -or- green tomatoes, chopped and sugared
4 eggs
salt to taste
olive oil for cooking

Wash the zucchini flowers and saute in a little oil just for a little bit.  (They will cook fast.)  In a separate skillet, saute the rest of the vegetables until tender, starting from hardest to softest.  (IE if you opt for potato, put it in the pan first, then the zucchini, then the green peppers, then the onion.  Otherwise, go zucchini, peppers, onion, tomato.  That way they'll all get done about the same time.)  When the other vegetables are all cooked, add in the zucchini flowers and a little more oil.  Beat the eggs, and add in the salt.  Pour the egg mixture over the vegetables in the skillet, then reduce the heat to medium low and let the egg cook until set, swirling it around in the pan a little once it's set enough to come loose in a single piece.  Serve as is or on kaiser rolls. 
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I confess to getting a little lazy.  I looked at my post list and realized that it was still February the last time I posted anything.  Then I found this recipe among the ones Judi gave me to put up here.  How could I not post this!

Crispy Honey-Mustard Breaded Eggplant

1 large eggplant
breading
ample seasoned breadcrumbs
a 2:1 mixture of mustard to honey -or- a prepared honey-mustard from the store
about 1 C. buttermilk

1/4 C. butter or oil

Wash and peal your eggplant, cutting off the green stem part at the top.  Slice it in half longways, then into wide strips about 1/2" thick (1 cm) by 4-6 inches long (10-15 cm), basically the size and shape of a deck of cards*.  But this is the vegetable world we're talking about here, so don't get your perfectionism on.  Just make sure they're not too thick.  Preheat a large a non-stick skillet on medium-high heat.  DO NOT PUT ANY OIL IN IT!!!  When a drop of water sizzles in the pan, lay your eggplant pieces in there on a single layer, doing batches if you have to.  Cook them on each side until they get dark golden brown on each side, then remove them to a plate.  When all your eggplant slices are brown, prepare three dishes or bowls: one with honey-mustard, one with breadcrumbs, and one with buttermilk.  In the meantime, slice your butter into pats into a large glass baking dish or just put the oil in the bottom of the dish.  Either way, put the dish in an oven preheated to 400F.  (Don't stress that I didn't tell you to preheat the oven until this point-- you have plenty to do while the oven gets hot enough after this point.)  Dredge your eggplant slices well until coated on each side in each of the three bowls in this order: honey-mustard, breadcrumbs, buttermilk, breadcrumbs.  When you're done, put the breaded pieces in the glass baking dish and return it to the oven.  Bake for 30 minutes, turning them about 15 minutes into the process, or until they are done on both sides.  They may or may not technically be what is described as "crispy".  This is okay.  They will still be "crunchy".  Voila!  Serve while hot.  Makes about 6 servings.
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*I hesitated to use words like "filet" or "steak" or "tender" even though this recipe is inspired by a couple of different baked-chicken recipes I like, because I wasn't sure those words were descriptive enough for the purpose-- the key to getting a good texture with eggplant, which has a lot of water in it, is to slice it thin enough to cook the water out without burning it.

So, eggplant that is not a "steak" or a "tender" but is styled after "chicken".  At this point, I basically have made a challenge to myself to see how long I can go without buying meat in the grocery store.  ('Cause is espensive.)  But yet, I still crave meatiness more than I (or my waistline) can afford to get it eating out.  So, this is my first attempt at vegetable chicken-like food.  The prior vegetarian main dish recipes posted here are pretty satisfactory in the "red meat replacement" category, but honestly, I have been eating more of, and there are more vegetable-based recipes for, pretend red meat than I ever ate of the real thing.  So, I've been wanting something I could use in my kitchen with all the great chicken recipes I have.  This recipe is pretty tasty both in flavor and in texture, and I hope to use eggplant successfully in other recipes in the future.

Oven Baked Chicken

The Simplest Chicken Recipe Ever

1 roaster chicken
potatoes, washed and peeled, and cut into large chunks (at least 1potato per person)
garlic powder
oregano
salt

Put the potatoes in the bottom of your baking dish, which is preferably a deep but not necessarily large or wide glass dish or casserole.  Rinse the chicken in the sink.  If you're buying your chicken in the US, take out the bag of organs stuffed, aptly, in the chicken's body cavity.*  Season it all over with the garlic powder, oregano, and salt, all to taste, but make sure to rub all of these well into the chicken's skin.  Place the seasoned bird on top of the potatoes in your dish, and then bake it at 350-400F for about 1 hour, or until fully cooked.**
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*In the Canduci family, you don't throw the guts away, you save them and make something else out of them at a later time.  Like gravy.  But people tend to have strong feelings about organ meat, so I'm not going to try to sell them on anybody in this post.

**I don't buy into that BS about "until the chicken reaches 160F internally."  A) Even if you have a meat thermometer, you have to be a meat thermometer pro not to stick it in some part of the relatively small chicken that is going to give you an inaccurate picture of how hot your chicken is.  B) Meat (and most other things) continue cooking after they're removed from the source of heat (this is why you should run your hand under cool water for about 10 minutes after your burn it), so waiting until the chicken is, thermally speaking, "cooked" to remove it from the oven pretty much guarantees it will be over-cooked by the time you eat it, unless you're in the habit of plunging your chicken in an icewater bath immediately after you take it out of the oven.  There is a better way than getting salmonella or taking your chicken on a polar bear swim.  Cook the chicken at the oven temperature the recipe recommends for 30 minutes per pound of chicken.  After that time, take it out, make a slice into the breast, and inspect the color of the meat and juice.  If the meat is light pink or white and the juice is clear, your chicken is, for all practical purposes, done with its time in the oven.  If the meat is dark pink, or if the juice is pink or bloody, put the chicken back in for at least another 15 minutes and then check it again.  (More like 30 minutes if the meat is a pretty dark pink, and if it looks "rare", well, you've got 45 minutes looking at you between now and dinner.  Sorry, just sayin'.)  After it's done according to the above guidelines, remove it from the oven and let it sit out on the counter, covered in a little tinfoil tent for about 5-10 minutes.  If you feel crafty you can even stick your meat thermometer in the appropriate place on the chicken (or leave it in there, if you were using it all along) and watch the temperature of the chicken continue to rise as it sits on the counter.

White Spaghetti with Chicken

1-1/2 to 2 lbs chicken, defatted and cut into pieces
5-6 garlic cloves, sliced
1 large onion, chopped
olive oil for cooking
1/4 C. red wine
parsley and salt and pepper to taste
1-2 pototoes, cubed
1 1/2 C. frozen peas
1 lb spaghetti, cooked

In hot oil, fry the chicken pieces just a little bit-- don't let them get brown.  Then add in the onion, garlic, parsley, and potatoes.  Add in the red wine and let everything simmer uncovered for about 10 minutes.  Add in 4-5 glasses* of water-- enough to cover the chicken-- and the package of frozen peas.  Let it simmer until there is enough sauce for the spaghetti.  (Note from 4/89-- "Too much water.")
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Mystery Ingredient solved: it was a quantifiable amount of peas.  There is still no direction on spaghetti, but I'm guessing that is due to the cooking style of Great-grandmom, which basically dictated that you put in as much spaghetti as you have people to feed, and they'll eat it and like it!

Okay, first things first.  There is a mystery ingredient that I need to get with my cousin Judi to clarify what it is.  It may be spaghetti, since it's not (as far as I can tell) mentioned in this recipe other than in the title.  The 1 lb is my thought on how much spaghetti you would need to go with this sauce.

*I'm not sure if Great-grandmom Canduci was talking about her juice glasses (6 oz.) or water tumblers (12-16oz.)  Either way, it's a lot of water.  Based on the rest of the recipe, what I would do is get to the point where you would be adding in the water and peas, and add in the peas first.  Then, stir everything around in the pot so it's in an even layer on the bottom, with chicken pieces and onions and the like peeking up amongst the peas.  Then I would add in enough water to just go over the top of the peas and proceed as directed.