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



 

Homemade Yeast Starter / Muffins for a Personal Crisis

Yeast starter has been the project of my kitchen efforts lately.  Mundane, perhaps, but intriguing in possibilities.  Yeast-risen chocolate cake?  Yeast-risen apple muffins?  Tried.  Failed.  But the results were interesting.  The chocolate cake was delivered and eaten up.  I even checked the trash can, which did not contain 12 pieces of chocolate cake with two bites taken out.  The apple muffins were offered to a friend in a personal crisis.  I described then as "Shitty Muffins" because, in my mind, they were.  Also all eaten up.  Either I'm a better cook than I thought I was, or other people's standards are way lower than I thought they would be.

Why yeast starter versus baking powder or baking soda?  Well, it all started when I discovered aluminum-free baking powder.  "Hum," I thought.  "Aluminum is certainly not a good thing to be eaten," so I bought it.  However, aluminum-free baking powder could also be described as "Shitty Baking Powder".  It kind of does the job.  Kind of.  But it also requires all kinds of changes in steps when you're mixing your ingredients to avoid the same effect as if you had not added any baking powder, shitty or not.  And that effect still does sometimes occur.  Baking soda, on the other hand, has more reliable results, but also has its signature taste, which I shall describe as "salty tin cans."  Yes, if you are masterful at measuring things exactly, like Grandmom, you do not run into this problem with your caraway seed scones with the real butter in them.  (Why is it always when I use really good ingredients that things go horribly wrong?)

So, all that being said, I decided to get inventive with yeast.  Here is my recipe, only requires a bought yeast infusion once, at the start, and which rises admirably albeit slowly by today's standards-- according to Julia Child in "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" each rising of a bread recipe should take 5 hours, which is about how long this recipe takes.  Quick yeast bread?  No.  Bread dough you can let rise overnight or while you're at work all day, care free?  Yes indeed.

Homemade Yeast Starter

1 package dry yeast of your preference
2 cup water
1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup sugar

Mix all together, let sit in a warm place in a loosely-covered container.  (Unless you want your container to burst eventually and spew starter everywhere.  Then, by all means, firmly affix the lid-- the tigher, the better!)  Shake or stir the contents about once every third day.  Use about half of the starter no less frequently than once every 6th day.  Whenever you do use it, use about half of it.  Replenish the remaining volume with half the amount of the ingredients above except, of course, for the packaged yeast.  Then you must do something totally countercultural (at least if you're an American). Leave the yeast starter container uncovered in its warm place for about 12 hours.  Why?  You're collecting free yeast from the environment.  (The first time I explained this, the person I was talking to responded after a pregnant pause with "Did you just say 'collect yeast from the environment' ?")  And get THIS!  The free-range yeast outperform the packaged kind.  So basically, the reason you add the packaged yeast in the first place is to get things going on a good footing by creating the kind of environment that a yeast would like.  Then you basically encourage it to get roommates from the wide world.  And they are the best roommates.  At least when it comes to bread.

The Joy of Leftovers

So, I was somewhat tempted to make a post of helpful hints.  However, I feel that the "hints" in question will make you think what I thought when I read the recipes for some of the classic French sauces in one of my cookbooks: "You've got to be kidding me; I mean, really, who has the time for that?"  On a side note, I feel that the British speak pattern of endless run-on sentences is superlative for complaints or criticisms.  Take the above example-- while adequately punctuated, it contains no less than three separate items of complaint.  Masterful.  Why all this fuss about French sauces?  Because a lot of those sauces are made from another sauce, which is made from yet a third sauce, or at the very least requires fresh homemade meat stock, which may as well be a sauce since it takes another three hours to prepare it.  I mean, honestly, really, what is the point?  So I won't pretend that my "hints" are expedient, but I will mention them since they were both pleasant surprises to me.

Hint # 1
"I am trying to eat more healthily but have a secret craving for that "Cream of Mushroom Soup" flavor for my casseroles."  Solution: make creamy mushroom risotto.  Put it in your casserole instead of boil-in-bag rice and Cream of Mushroom.  Tastes the same.  100% less badness.

Hint # 2
"I am trying to eat more healthily, or more low-meatily, but I miss the flavor of beefy delicious casseroles."  Solution: make my recipe for Rich Weekday Pasta e Fagioli and let it sit until the pasta soaks up the rest of the broth.  Put it on the bottom layer of your traditionally beefy casserole instead of ground beef.  This would obviously be best suited to a meat-and-tomato type dish.  Seriously.  It's yummy.

I discovered both of these through the joy of leftover eating.  Which just goes to show that doing so is not only cheap, but also educational.  I actually read a recent newspaper article that said that Italians in Italy are suddenly going back to eating leftovers instead of, I guess, just throwing them away.  I would judge, but I know Americans are no better.  I feel like I need to start an outreach program for people who were not brought up to actually make good use of their money.  Maybe that's what this blog is.

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.

Savory Gravy for Cornbread / Family Photos

I created this recipe as a way to use up a can of diced stewed tomatoes, and because I've been wanting to try both of the things this sauce evokes: Red-Eye Gravy and Tomato Gravy.  For those who don't know, Tomato Gravy is a rich sauce that traditionally has fresh tomatoes and cream in it, as well as various seasonings, onions, and occasionally bell peppers, that's meant to be served on top of grits, rice, biscuits, or cornbread.  (Sometimes it comes with shrimp in it too.  Delicious.)  Red-Eye Gravy is a thinner, meat fat-based sauce that is served atop biscuits or cornbread, more as a condiment, shall we say.  It's called "Red-Eye" Gravy because the roux is thinned with coffee instead of milk or broth.  So which is my recipe?  Both, neither, and definitely its own thing.  I don't thing either Red-Eye or Tomato Gravy has ham in it.  But I had ham, and ham imparts a tasty flavor, so ham went in it!

Savory Gravy for Cornbread

1 can diced tomatoes
1-2 TB flour
less than 1/4 C. chopped ham-- say 1-2 TB?
cooking oil
1/2 to 1 whole onion, chopped (this depends on your appreciation of onions)
1/4 tsp or so instant coffee granules (or 1-2 TB. of strong brewed coffee would probably work, too)
1 TB. Korean BBQ sauce.  (In my opinion store-bought Korean BBQ sauce cannot be beat for imbibing a certain meaty je ne sais quoi.)

Heat the oil in the bottom of a small saucepan.  When it's hot enough, add in the onions and saute them until they're reasonably soft.  (They'll have more time in the pan, so it's not essential that they're limp.)  Add in the ham and let it sizzle around for a hot minute, then add in the canned tomatoes, juice and all.  Let that simmer at medium to medium-high (depending on your stove-- in other words, super-bubbly but not erupting tomato juice all over your stove top-- which mine totally did) for about 5-8 minutes.  Add in the Korean BBQ sauce and the coffee granules/brewed coffee, stirring so that they're well mixed.  Add in the flour, stirring rapidly to avoid lumps, 2 tsp. at a time until the sauce is the thickness you like it.  Turn the stove down to the low setting and let it simmer and bubble for another 5-10 minutes or so.  Serve in generous helpings over some fresh cornbread.
________

I thought I'd pull out the photo album Grandmom put together for me to see if I could find some inspiration there.  I did!  Sort of. 

The first few pages are pictures from my parents' (failed) wedding.  By that I mean that the wedding was successful but the marriage was not.  Interestingly enough, Grandpop looks like he doesn't know what the hell is going on.  Also I note that Grandmom has, with the delicacy of a true archivist, hole-punched straight through the 8x11 deluxe photos to put them in the album.  Go Grandmom.  She has always liked my mom, and I'm sure she likes my dad, (her son), but it gives me a sort of glee to see hole punches through pictures of them looking...well, not to put too fine a point on it...smug.  Or, in my dad's case, like he doesn't know what the hell is going on.  Maybe it's genetic? 

Heading forward a couple of years or so, there's pictures of "(me) 5 days old".  Grandpop definitely looks like he knows what the hell is going on.  He is holding a tiny baby.  He appears to like it.  I appear to like it too, even when the picture shows only a large masculine finger pointing directly at the side of my face (I'm smiling). 

2 months later, my new talent appears to be looking accusingly into the camera. 

A couple of months later and Grandpop has beaten "Meet the Parents" by decades, trying to give a very confused-looking me a bottle while nestling me close to his hairy chest.

Through it all, Grandmom and Grandpop keep appearing, having taken expensive trips several hundred miles away from where they live, all to come see me.  (I was the only grandchild for a long time.  I had some serious cousin envy when my Uncle Ron finally settled down!) 

My cousins and I all learned to like each other eventually, and somewhere there are pictures of us all playing dress-up together.  And, in one memorable instance, me manhandling one of them because of a theatre-related mishap.  What can I say?  I SPENT ALL AFTERNOON WRITING THAT PLAY ABOUT PRINCESSES.  THEY COULD AT LEAST BOTHER TO LEARN THE LINES.  Personally, I would be happy if that picture were never seen by human eyes again.  I wouldn't even mention the incident except that it was so memorable that my cousins also remember the actual event, and continue to tease me about it.  They definitely come from the more laid-back side of the family.  Other, fonder, memories also came from that family trip, just to set the record straight.

Cinnamon Raisin Coffee Cake

Update

This cake is nasty!  I guess I've gotten so used to being able to produce good stuff from my kitchen that I didn't bother to try it for once before posting it.  I mean, it's not cough-syrup-flavored or made with lice, but it's not exactly tasty.  Its issues are: too dense, not enough filling, not enough flavor overall.  There, I said it.  Based on the continued popularity of my blog post about the homemade toothpaste, I'm guessing that my honesty about kitchen failures is entertaining.  Which was in part the point.  Success!  So, if you feel inclined to mess around with this recipe, feel free.  I would add about 2-3 more cups of raisins and real sugar instead of corn syrup, skip the whole "1 TB of this, 1 TB of that" business and just dump a whole boatload of butter in its place, and let this one rise twice like it was supposed to, rolling it out between risings and filling it with the aforementioned raisins.  But that's just an estimate, since I probably will just make actual real cinnamon buns next time instead of lazy, cabinet-purging muffinettes.  (I felt at the time that muffins would be a good call.  Turns out: I was wrong.)

Fruit Filling (I use the word "filling" loosely)
1 C. golden raisins
1/4 C. granulated sugar or light corn syrup (I used corn syrup...still cleaning out the cabinets)
1-2 tsp. ground cinnamon

Heat the corn syrup on the stove in a small saucepan over medium heat.  Stir in the cinnamon and the raisins.  Turn the heat down to low and let it sit and bubble for a few minutes-- 5 or so.  (It should still be runny.)

Batter
1 pkg. quick-rise yeast (if you have regular, just plan on doubling the rising time, but otherwise do everything else the same)
1/2 C. milk

Heat the milk until it's warm but not hot (otherwise you'll kill your yeast!!).  Stir in your yeast and let it proof, ie let it sit and make bubbles for a minute or so.  (If it doesn't bubble, start over with new yeast and fresh milk.)

Then, whisk together:

1 C. all-purpose flour
1 C. whole wheat flour
1/4 tsp. salt

In a separate bowl, combine the following, adding the egg second last and the sugar last.

1 egg
1 TB. shortening, melted
2 TB. sunflower oil
1 TB. cream cheese
1/4 C. sugar (I had powdered, but granulated would probably be fine)

Stir the yeast mixture into the wet ingredients.  Then add the wet into the dry, including the Fruit filling that you have prepared.  Or, you could make it a true filling and layer it into the batter when you get closer to baking it.  Either way, set your batter aside in a warm place and let it rise until double.  (I'm impatient, so what I do is let it rise to about 75% and then put the batter in a cold oven instead of preheating it.  It works out pretty well!)  When your batter is how you like it, pour your batter into the receptacle of your choice.  I used a muffin pan plus a mini loaf pan, but it would make two regular-sized loaves, or a 9x9 square pan as well.  Then, bake it according to your tastes (the impatient way or the regular way) at 350 for 20-30 minutes or until it passes the toothpick test.  If you feel extra festive, make a frosting from 1 C. powdered sugar and 1-2 TB. of milk and pour it over the top!
_________

When I was younger, I used to wish that I had a more picture-perfect home life.  "Wish" is probably not strong enough a word.  I felt instinctively that my life would be a lot easier if it were.  I'm thankful, though, for the strength that God has taught me through my non-picture-perfect family, and I'm thankful that he gave me Grandmom and Grandpop, that were such a source of rest when life was so hard.  In amongst all of that, they were like an island of food and love in the midst of a raging sea. It was bittersweet to go visit them because I knew I had to leave, and I knew what I had to go back to. But it still meant the world to me. And I appreciated the home-cooked meals while I was there, and the unfashionable winter coats that they sent me when I wasn't there, much more than if their love and kindness were all I had ever known.  And at the end of the day, I think I can honestly say that I could survive pretty much anything. My world isn't going to come crashing down if I'm hungry, or cold, or despised. I know that hunger cannot break your spirit, and the cold cannot kill it. I know the difference between being liked for what I have and being liked for who I am, and I know the difference between being disliked for what I've done and being mistreated because I'm vulnerable.

But most of all, I'm thankful for knowing what it means to be loved just for existing on this earth, and not because of anything else.  And the wisdom to know that this is the difference between love and appreciation.  Appreciation fades.  Appreciation can replace its object.  Appreciation definitely dies a swift and bitter death once its source dries up.  Love...doesn't.  Love is worth it.  Appreciation isn't.  Thank you, Grandmom and Grandpop.

Fudge Sauce / Determination-Flavored Yogurt

I made this recipe up because of an unfortunate event that has occured in the last few weeks.  Here's the story: several months ago, I went to the store to get some things and discovered yogurt with chocolate on the bottom.  Not fruit.  Not a fruit-based derivative.  Straight up chocolate.  I bought other, more conventional flavors, as well as the chocolate-on-the-bottom with my mind open and my reservations alert and ready.  No need.  It was delicious!  I have, in a back part of my brain, been meaning to go get some more ever since.  However, at some point in the time between when I bought it and when I (recently) returned to that store, the store decided to no longer carry it.  Not that brand.  Not that "style" (oh, yogurt styles...there are now a thousand of them), just that flavor.  I was so upset that I pouted (which, with my strict upbringing, I have only recently learned to do) up at the disappointing and conventional fruit flavors displayed along the top shelf.   And then I put the toe of one foot on the lip of the refrigerator case and hoisted myself to eye level with the yogurts, hoping to find one last chocolate-on-the-bottom hidden in the back.  If my thoughts had been verbalized, they would have gone something like, "I do not care if you have been back there up to and past your expiration date!  Others may not be willing to risk it, but I love you, chocolate-on-the-bottom yogurt!"  After several hopeful seconds of scanning the back of the shelf, I descended from my perch disappointed.  Whether it was the pouting or the climbing, or both, a nearby store patron then chivalrously offered to help me get whatever it was I was trying to get.  Sometimes sharing your feelings with others is healthy!  Especially when people unexpectedly offer to get things off of high shelves for you.

Anyway, I was not one to give up so easy.  I had already, in full public view, climbed on an appliance in the grocery store!  Undeterred, I went home with the idea of recreating the blissfulness of chocolate-on-the-bottom yogurt in my kitchen by basically putting chocolate sauce on the bottom of a reusable cup of yogurt.  And I did.  And this is the chocolate sauce recipe!  I will offer it with some variation options and caveats, since my approach was somewhat unconventional.

Chocolate Sauce for Yogurt

1/2 a Dove bar
2 TB. cocoa powder
2-3 TB. half & half
1-2 tsp. light corn syrup
1-2 tsp. butter

Melt the chocolate over low-medium heat.  Stir in the cocoa powder (it will make a coarse meal).  Add in the butter, which will then melt and help better blend together the cocoa powder and chocolate bar.  Reduce the heat to the lowest setting and stir in the corn syrup and half & half, adding a little more cocoa powder if you want your sauce a little thicker.  Your sauce is done when there are not lumps of cocoa left and the sauce looks smooth and glossy.  Spoon it into a prepared glass jar (a small one-- maybe 4 oz. at the most) and let it cool a couple of minutes before refrigeration.  When you're ready, put 2 spoonfuls of chocolate sauce on the bottom of a reusable container, then fill it to the top with yogurt!  This appears to make about eight 6 oz. yogurt cups-worth of chocolate sauce.

This is how I actually made it, because it's what I had on hand and also because I was too stubborn to break into the half-a-package of legitimate chocolate chips that I also had and hope to use to make a chocolate babka with next week.  It tastes good to me, but if you used probably about 2-3 oz. of semisweet chocolate chips in place of the cocoa powder and Dove bar combo it would probably be creamier, and also more like a milk chocolate sauce than a dark chocolate sauce.

Apple Spice Coffee Cake / The Smoking Foodgun

Apple Spice Coffee Cake

Filling
3 large apples, cored, peeled, and coarsely chopped
juice of 1 orange
1 C. dark brown sugar
2-3 TB. butter
1/4 C. sultana raisins (optional).

Melt the butter in a skillet.  Melt the sugar in the butter.  Dump in the apples and juice.  Let simmer until the apples are fully cooked.  If you want the raisins, add them at the same time that you add the apples.

Batter
1-2/3 C. unbleached all-purpose flour
2/3 C. whole wheat flour
1 pkg. yeast
1/2 C. milk
2 eggs
1/3 C. granulated sugar
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. cardamom
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
2 TB. ginger paste -or- 1 tsp. powdered ginger
1/4 C. oil

Mix together the dry ingredients.  Warm the milk.  Add in the yeast and let it proof (1-5 minutes, depending on whether it's regular or quick-rise).  In a separate bowl from the flour, mix together the yeast mixture, the eggs, and the oil.  Beat this into the flour mixture, stirring for about 1 minute or until the dough starts to pull away from the sides slightly.  Let rise in a warm place about 30 minutes to 1 hour (again, depending on your yeast).  Grease and flour a bundt pan and preheat the oven to 350F.  Pour half the batter into the pan.  Pour in the filling.  Top with the remainder of the batter and bake for about 40 minutes.  (You might have to tent the top of the cake for the last 10 minutes or so, depending on how hot your oven runs.  It should be a nice medium brown on top, though.)  Take the cake out after it passes the toothpick test and let it cool for about 15 minutes before attempting to cut it. 

I had apples, so I used apples, but another alternative is to use two or three jars of orange marmalade and skip the whole "making a filling" step.  That would bring out the spices more and be a lot easier.  It is tasty as an apple cake, for sure.
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In my search for a pan while cooking dinner, I discovered the manual to a vintage kitchen appliance I own called "the Foodgun".  I know.  It sounds like it should be illegal in schools and on planes and public property.  In reality, it is a spritz cookie maker and, according to the ambitions of the manufacturer, the most useful tool in our kitchens since the fork.  Have a bunch of cooked unfilled manicotti laying around?  Problem solved!  Use the Foodgun.  Need to turn plain mashed potatoes into a gourmet dish via shooting them out of a motorized canister?  Shabam, the Foodgun gives you "Duchess Potatoes".  Its uses potentially are limited only by the human imagination of things that need to be filled and substances that can be shot into those things.  In addition, the manufacturer provided a helpful "FAQ" section at the back that makes Dr. Dre look like an amateur at spinning.  Example: "Q. Is it dishwasher safe?  A. The motor housing is not immersible, but easily cleans with a damp cloth.  It's possible to put the separate parts in the dishwasher--but not advisable....Besides, they're so easily cleaned with a soak and a wipe that it's hardly worth the time to put them in the dishwasher."  (Emphasis mine.)  Excuse me, but until I have a personal attendant who enjoys applying "a soak and a wipe" to dishwasher-safe items, it is still worth the time for me to put them in the dishwasher.  Furthermore, I cannot imagine the "soak and a wipe" that would be both quick and sufficient to remove a thick, sticky layer of extruded cookie dough from the inside of a plastic barrel.  It would involve much more than that.  Possibly two soaks.  And definitely about a thousand wipes.  Or the dishwasher.  Just come out and say it if it's not dishwasher safe.  There is no such thing as "marginally dishwasher safe", except, apparently, in the minds of the makers of the Foodgun. 

This Foodgun in particular came to me by a circuitous route.  It was originally given to Grandmom as a Christmas or birthday present, and it was something she wanted.  However, it turned out not to be exactly what she thought it was, or something to that effect, so she hung onto it for a while and then regifted it to my mom at her bridal shower.  Remember, this was about thirty years before "regifting" was even a word.  But Grandmom did it!  My mom knew about it and was fine with it.  Eventually she tried it out, and it too wasn't quite what she had in mind.  So, she gave it back to Grandmom, where it sat in the basement for the next 25 years until Grandmom asked me if I wanted to poke around there and see if there was anything I wanted for my first apartment (on approval, of course).  I haven't tried it out yet.  Honestly, I'm kind of afraid to. 

Also, my not using it allows it to last longer and therefore possibly become the most epic regifting since the Ugly Sweater Episode.  In a nutshell, either my Great-aunt Kitty or my Grandmom or possibly their respective Mother-in-law/Mother gave it to one of them.  It was, by both their reports, really ugly.  Yet it was mandatory for whoever got it first to wear it occasionally out of respect for one's elders.  Until somebody got the brilliant idea to "accidentally" lose it at the other one's house.  In a very hidden location.  At first, the finder, whoever it was (Grandmom or Aunt Kitty), thought it was an accident and tried to give it back.  The ugly sweater returned, and the game was on.  Over the course of about 15 years the ugly sweater traded houses multiple times and also went to Myrtle Beach and Upstate Pennsylvania, (in various hands) and also once to Paris, France.  (Grandmom was responsible for that one, sneaking it into a packed suitcase on pretense of using the bathroom at Aunt Kitty's house the day before she left on vacation.)  As you can imagine, over time the methods of sweater delivery had to become more sophisticated.  It got mailed.  It got "Return to Sender"-ed.  It came in the back of a framed picture.  Of course it got given for Christmas along with a more legitimate gift at least once apiece.  It goes without saying that every coat closet in both their respective houses got paid a visit by the ugly sweater, while the deliverer tried to sneak out without having to retrieve it, sometimes with success.  (I remember Grandmom telling me she was so frustrated on one occasion because she had checked every closet multiple times during a visit from Aunt Kitty and Aunt Kitty still managed to sneak the ugly sweater in somehow right before she left.)  So, with my vintage Foodgun approaching its fourth holder and decade, I think I can definitely continue the tradition, if I find just the right victim...er...recipient.

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.

 

Molto Bene Stracciatella Soup

When I first saw a recipe for (regular-style) Stracciatella soup, I was already sold.   Chicken broth?  Tiny pasta?  Parmesan cheese?  Yum, yum.  Then, when I made it the first time, I discovered that I could not be satisfied with adding the directed amounts of any of the chief ingredients.  I actually have not cooked Stracciatella the way it was intended to be prepared, ever.  But why should I?  I could do it as a creative exercise, I guess, but I like my way so much that I inevitably make it "molto bene" (mo' betta!).  I made it the first time for guests, and they liked it so much they asked for the recipe.

3-4 C. chicken stock or broth*
1/3- 1/2 C. stellini pasta**
1/3-1/2 C. fresh grated parmesan cheese
1/4-1/2 C. white wine
3 whole eggs

Heat the chicken stock and wine together until boiling on the stove.  In the meantime, whisk together the parmesan cheese and the eggs.  When the broth is at a rolling boil, slowly add in the egg mixture, stirring constantly with a fork.  Let cook about 3-5 minutes.  Then, add in the stellini and let everything cook another 3-5 minutes (until the pasta is done).  Serve with a generous amount of additional grated parmesan cheese on top.  Do not feel guilty for putting an ice-cube or two into your soup bowl.  This soup smells so good that you want to tear into it right off the stove and, of course, it is ridiculously too hot to do so.
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*If you're using plain stock, you may need to add some salt for flavor.  But almost certainly not if you're using broth, which is already salted.

**"Stellini" means "little stars".  The original recipe says you can use orzo or pastini or acini de pepe, and I guess that would be fine too.  But why use boring-shaped pasta when you can use STARS?  For "molto bene"-style the stars may work out better in the end anyway-- this soup is very thick.  In fact, after it's been in the fridge for a day it's more like pasta risotto.  Which is fine with me.

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.

Tropical Boost Punch

By now you all (youse, ya'll) should know about my love for Boost! .  (And that I feel the need to say it with the exclamation point even if the sentence is not declarative.)  Oh, BTW, "youse" is not pronounced "yuice" like "juice", except by Hollywood, CA actors who are trying to pretend to be guidos.  It's pronounced "yews" like "Jews".  One: you.  Two: youse.  There you go.  Returning to the matter at hand, Boost! is high enough in calories and low enough (zero) in nutrition that I feel the need to mix it up in my Boost! consumption.  You would think that if I only drank it once a month I would want it to be the same time-honored Boost! plus water combo.  But remember, this is coming from the person who has to think hard to remember the last time she made the same thing twice.  It's a seriously bad week for me if I hit the kitchen and think "You know, what I really want is some high-carbohydrate comfort food."  Anyway, here is a Boost! mocktail that actually aids and abets the yummy Boost!ness while having an interesting combination of flavors.

Tropical Boost! Punch

1 12 oz. can coconut-flavored seltzer water (lemon-lime would probably be good, too)
2 oz. Boost! concentrate
2 oz. orange-mango juice blend

Mix all together.  Enjoy!  It's best if most of the ingredients are chilled (I don't keep my Boost! concentrate in the fridge), because, since Boost! is a concentrate, adding ice cubes kind of messes with the appropriate dilution.  (Ie, it's really easy to have watery Boost! if you're mixing it by the glass and using tap water.)

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!

Blackberry Ice Cream Cordial

Blackberry Ice Cream Cordial

1 pint good blackberry ice cream
blackberry jam
butter cookies

Soften the ice cream.  Spoon it into 4 teacups or, if you have them (I did) small dessert molds.    Smooth the top, then drop a heaping spoonful of blackberry jam down the middle.  Smooth the top again.  Freeze.  When you're ready to serve them, prepare a bowl of hot water.  Dip each mold or teacup into the hot water for just a few seconds, then turn it over a dessert plate to unmold the ice cream.  Stick 2-3 butter cookies at jaunty angles in the top.  Shazaam, fancy dessert!  Serves 4.
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In retrospect, it would have been pretty good, and also jammier, to fill half a mold up, spread a layer of jam, then top off the mold with more ice cream.  I guess it depends how much jam you feel like you need in your life.  I admit to eating spoonfuls of the leftover jam straight out of the fridge.  (It's really good jam!)
I called this "Cordial", not because it has any cordial (ergo, blackberry-flavored wine) in it, but because I made it for a small dinner party with some friends, and so it was a "cordial" dessert.  Ha ha ha.  C'mon, laugh with me.  Call it whatever you want, it's basically a fancy ice cream.  I created this dessert so that I could make it ahead of time AND so I would NOT be left with acres of cake or cookies after the fact.  That way I could dedicate my time on the day of the dinner party on the "real" (non-sugar-based) food.  The secret to it all is to use really good versions of each of the ingredients.  I followed both of these principles, and as a result the whole dessert cost me about $10 to buy the ingredients and tasted really good.

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.

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.

Sweet Pumpkin Kugel

2/3 C. canned pumpkin (not pumpkin pie filling, just plain pumpkin!!)
1/4 C. granulated sugar
2 eggs
8 oz. egg noodles
8 oz. sour cream
1/4 C. (1/2 of a standard stick) of butter

Boil and drain the egg noodles according to package directions.  (I left mine a little al dente figuring their time in the oven would further cook them and prevent any soggy noodles.)  Melt the butter in a microwave safe bowl.  Beat in butter, the sour cream (to cool it down), then the pumpkin, and finally the eggs.  Combine the pumpkin-sour cream mixture with the cooked noodles.  Pour all into a buttered 6x6 deep casserole.  (Why do I have one of these?  My Great-grandmother on my mom's side was getting ready to move to assisted living a couple of years ago, and, having lived by herself all those years, had plenty of small cooking dishes that she didn't need anymore.  So she passed some of them on to me.)  Bake it, covered, at 350 for about an hour.  Serves approximately 4-6.
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And there you have it!  It's slightly sweet, has a vegetable in it, and is rich and satisfying.  I would upload a picture but honestly I tore into it straight out of the oven.