I know, I know, it's been ages since I put up a recipe. And believe me, I've cooked up a small storm. It's just I haven't taken the time to format and upload ingredients and directions. Call me busy.
BUT -- in the meantime, I need your help, oh Happy Trailer Park Tribe: What the heck is this that we're growing in our prolific backyard meadow? Hint: There's a ring of it around the bird feeder, and nowhere else.
Besides, what else you gotta do besides watch the Super Bowl?
Okay, I know you're busy getting ready to bring in 2012, running around buyin' out the liquor store, maybe rolling a few tamales, digging your clip-on tie and dress shoes out of the box in the attic, curlin' your hair, and washing your prettiest undies. So you might not have time to feed yourself right now.
I have your answer. The Editor just made the best grilled cheese sandwich in the world. I think it's EXACTLY the thing you need before you start inundating your po' ole belly and liver with alcohol. OR this may be the best hangover food you ever had, either way...
It's a lot easier to list the ingredients than it is to explain how to make this sammich. But The Editor gets big points for perfecting the art of sammich grilling. No way could I translate exactly, in the end, but you can figure it out, I'm sure.
The Editor's Perfect New Year's Eve Grilled Cheese Sammich
Chop up one clove garlic, fine. Brown it in 1 tablespoon olive oil.
Add 2 tablespoons butter to pan and melt it.
Here's where it gets complicated:
Swipe bread pieces in pan on the inside side (know what I mean?) of the bread. So now you have a couple of pieces of plain bread, each with a coating of garlic-y goo on only one side.
LAY ONE PIECE ASIDE AND DON'T TOUCH IT YET.
Add about a tablespoon more butter to pan. Fry up ONE of the bread pieces with the inside gooey side down -- then flip it over (to the plain aka outside side) and toast the outside side in the now sopped-up/relatively dry hot pan.
Now... hang on, you can do this, I promise...
Flip the slice in the pan over and lay the following on the inside gooey side:
3 quarter-inch thick slices medium cheddar
sprinkle (about a tablespoon or 2) shredded mozzarella
Pick the cheesed slice up with a spatula. Slide the other, non-cheesed slice GOO SIDE DOWN in the pan. THEN put the cheesed slice, PLAIN TOASTED SIDE DOWN/CHEESE UP, on top of the non-cheesed slice.
This, let's say, perfection-oriented bread-flipping trick is the key, I think, to this otherwise plain ol' sammich.While the bottom slice is toasting, the cheese is melting on the upper slice.
Now -- put your sammich together, cheese side of one slice against the now-fried goo side of the other. Then finish by putting the sammich back in the pan, untoasted side down.
I'm exhausted just from trying to transcribe this process. But I swear, it's worth it. And it's actually a lot easier to do than to read about.
Okay, friends -- now that we have fruit from the little volunteer that cropped up through the hole in our asphalt patio:
The Editor and I invite you to spill your wisdom and tell us what it is...
And we finish today's brief post with a shot through the Jeep's grimy window (The Editor asked 'Why??' -- I said because it imparts a sort of cozy yet surreal fog to the scene) of our neighbor's lovely outdoor veranda. So comfy -- and well-guarded, too!
Y'all from down here in The Republic, particularly Swamp City region, know just what I'm sayin: We have a spot on the calendar of weather cool enough that you can rev up the oven without making it too impossibly hot to sleep on the other side of the house.
Time to bake something!
Did you get caught short without ingredients worth an oven? If you spend too much time sifting through recipes, planning and running around town to buy things you need for baking fancy desserts, you could lose nature's window of opportunity! Besides, you know -- I'm no cookie baker. To me, the five days of fall we get every year equal casserole! And here's a one-dish meal that only requires stuff you probably always keep around (except for the flaxseed meal. That's my gracious nod to Mira and my inherited cholesterol issues.)
Spicy Kidney Bean Mac (not to be confused with Rodeo Macaroni)
2 1/2 cups cooked elbow macaroni
1 small can diced chilis
4 oz cubed pepper jack cheese
1 14 oz can kidney beans
1/2 1 big can (27 oz?) diced tomatoes
2 tsp comino
1 tbsp flaxseed meal
Stir it all together -- even the juices from all the cans -- pour into a baking dish and bake uncovered at 325 degrees for 20 minutes. Stir well (to mix the melted cheese all up), then bake for another 20 minutes.
Overkill, on the baking time? Maybe. Edible and worth the cozy "it's autumn" feel you get from indulging in oven energy? Absolutely.
We didn't eat a lot of pork in my house growing up. I'm sure it was because of Dave the Fox's taste in food (which was carved by his Texas-born Swedish mama -- whole lotta chicken and peas), but I grew up thinking that beyond ham and bacon, pork was something that Yankees eat. And yes, we did use that term. Still do in certain parts.
Of course, me with my penchant for the exotic, I was a little crazy about folks from the northeast as a young woman. I get along peculiarly well with people who hail from The City (as those in the know refer to NYC). Something about a brashness factor, I think. We natives of The Republic don't exactly fit the stereotypes of The Genteel South. Anyway, I learned about a lot of new ways to do things from my friends the Yankees, one of which was how to eat pork.
I was so tickled to eat something other than chicken and hamburger steak in my first shabby little apartment with a merry-go-round of roommates, that I got a nickname from one roomie's boyfriend: Chop Chop. One of these days, I'll resurrect that recipe for Pork Chop Stew.
Later on, when times were even leaner and I had a husband who was a serious meat-and-potatoes eater, I discovered pork steaks. It's a cut from the shoulder, and you can just ignore what Wikipedia says about it being tough. It's not... always. H2 and I found out that pork steaks are very tasty grilled. Pretty much anything you want to do with a beef steak, give pig steaks a shot and see what you think.
And here's what you do with pork when you have a can of Lone Star that you dropped on the concrete while carrying in the groceries.
Lone Star Pork & Cabbage
4 pork steaks
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1/2 head cabbage
1/2 red onion
1-2 tbsp caraway seeds
1 busted can lone star
1/4 cup cilantro
2 tsp kosher salt
Brown steaks in oil in a deep pan. Don't cook too long, just 'til pretty and brown on both sides.
Slice the cabbage thick. Place slices on top of steaks. Slice the onion thick. Place on the cabbage. Sprinkle on caraway seeds. Pour on beer. Sprinkle cilantro, finely chopped, and salt. Cover. Cook on low for an hour.
You could serve this instead of that smelly Yankee favorite for St. Patrick's Day, corned beef cabbage.
(Note: Busted beer cans should probably be used pretty soon after busted.)
I'm stunned at how tough it's been for my Facebook followers to figure out what this is:
And granted, it does look an awful lot like this:
but c'mon, I plainly put this post in my rarely-used Bargain Bin Meat category...
In case you're not into Facebook (which planet do you live on? I wanna visit...) here're some of the ideas the folks over there came up with:
chocolate
beans
thousand island dressing
ovaltine
homemade mustard
iced coffee
beer
assorted soups
It went on and on, in spite of my generous clues, like "Depression Era" and "one of the Most American Foods Ever" -- oh, and the main ingredient comes from an animal.
My favorite idea came from Karrie Sue, who said it looks like a green bean chocolate shake. No, but that's a damned good idea.
Here 'tis:
Trailerpark Pâté
1 can potted meat (aka "potty meat" in my house of origin)
1 large dill pickle, diced
1 tablespoon mayo
Stir it all together 'til the mayo and "meat" are blended. Mixture will be runny, yes, runny like, well, you tell me... Place in fridge for about half an hour.
When you pull it outta the fridge, serve it with Chicken in a Biskit crackers (if you can find 'em -- The Editor did on our last foray at Fiesta, but it was the first time either of us had seen that cracker in years and the last box on the shelf.)
The Old Man (whose emails are featured here) would be proud. Except I think he likes Ritz better than Chicken in a Biskit.
First, I want to make clear that my posts about those (these) times when the pantry is bare are not intended to steal your pity. See, I know there's a lot more folks than me in this predicament, and I'm pretty sure that most of us don't want pity. But it took me a few years to figure out (a) how not to freak out when money gets so low that food is hard to buy, and (b) what to buy so I could eat for a good long stretch on very little money.
Okay, I still freak out. But not nearly as much.
Anyway, because of Points A and B above, I actually figure that my little notes about Survival Food could be helpful, truly, for someone, somewhere.
Now, I also know that a lot of what I eat doesn't appeal to all taste buds. BUT -- if you can get over your own preferences, you'll have more choices. And some of these may even be Mira-approved. I know, I know, you'd rather have a fast-food burger. But you have $20 to spend for a week's worth of dining. Buy a burger, blow a fourth of your weekly wad on one meal, and it's not even nutritious. NOW how you gonna do that brain work that you get paid the big bucks for??
So here's the latest:
Interesting Tuna Sandwich Sans Regular Condiments
(Of course there are a lot of ways to do this one, so this is just the version that worked out of my fridge and pantry the other night. Let's call it: Cheesy Peppery Italian Tuna.)
one small can tuna in water, well-drained
2 slices of bread (it always cracks me up just a little when I buy "wheat bread")
coarse ground pepper
jar o' cheese, the stinky variety (I got some on sale that's "parmesan, oregano, and other ingredients"!)
dried Italian seasonings (from one of those whopping huge shakers that I bought back when times were flowing a little better)
Now, do I really have to tell you how to combine these ingredients to make a sandwich? Squish it all together in a bowl and put it between the bread. And as for amounts -- take a swing.
And no, there really isn't any mayo in this one. Mayo's a waste of money unless you're one of those folks who eats it in and on everything. Me, I use it once or twice before it goes bad.
Here's the marvelous side dish, and man, this was a coup at the store that night:
Seasoned Greens & Tomatoes
1/2 of a huge can of seasoned turnip greens (If you haven't ever had the seasoned variety, I highly recommend them. I can eat them cold or hot. Tons of the stuff. And they were WAY on sale that night.)
1/3 can of peeled whole tomatoes (The no-salt kind, so my sodium isn't quite so bad.)
Just pile those babies up in a little saucepan, cover and heat. It won't cost more than about 5 minutes of your propane.
I know there are tons of ways to make very charming greens and tomatoes, but this dish cost me (if I tease out one serving from my purchase) $0.47 -- you absolutely cannot beat that with fresh produce. AND here's the other great thing about canned vegetables, another way they won't cost you as much as fresh: You *can* eat them unheated. Not a smidge of fuel spent, and you got you some nutrients.
Serve those up with a glass of your rehydrated dry milk, and your mama would be proud. Throw down a handful of raisins, and call it dessert.
I was never a "picky eater" -- my mom loved that about me. Of course, she and I were the only ones in the house like that, so we had to suffer through meals made from the few ingredients that the rest of them would eat: chicken fried steak, hamburger steak, rice and gravy, peas, and salad. And iced tea. Oh, and fried chicken once a week at my grandparents'.
Part of the whole "being picky" thing has to do with a dish's presentation. A whole lotta people won't eat something just because it looks nasty. I think that's just crazy. Now, I won't eat -- or so far haven't had to eat -- bugs, but it's not because of how they look. It's because the idea of crunching into a spiny critter's exoskeleton just wreaks havoc on my nervous system straight through to my intestines. But I ate snails a few times. Liked 'em for a bit, too. Lately not so much.
One of the things I love about The Editor -- he has experience with some pretty darn impressive, even snooty foods, but he'll eat what I make. He doesn't go overboard and rave about it, because I wouldn't believe him anyway and then I'd call him a liar, he'd get mad and go back to his computer... but he'd eat every bit of what I made.
You MUST love a person who eats the food you make, even if it's ugly. You also gotta love him for being honest.
And here's a perfect example: Some of the ugliest stuff I've ever made. Granted, completely unadulterated oatmeal is pretty disgusting to the eye, resembling something that your dog shouldn't have eaten because there it is again on your floor in partially digested form.
But when you add a few things to oatmeal, you can make it not only tastier and more nutritious, but even uglier.
I can't wait to try this one on The Editor.
Damned Ugly Oatmeal for One
1/2 cup oatmeal
1 cup water
1/8 cup peanut butter
1 tsp honey
1/4 cup raisins
a dribble of half-n-half
Bring water to boil in small pot. Add oatmeal and simmer uncovered for about 2 to 5 minutes, until water is absorbed. Put the raisins in your bowl and scoop the oatmeal all over 'em. Plop the peanut butter on the oatmeal, then the honey. Now stir until peanut butter is melted and blended throughout. Dribble some half-n-half (or milk) to taste.
Looks disgusting. Tastes like a peanut butter-oatmeal-with-raisins cookie, and is much better for you.
What? Like you don't have a can of rutabagas in your pantry?! I've had mine for, I dunno, nearly a year. That's how long it's been since The Editor came and spent any decent length of time here in The Sticks, and he bestowed the can on me after finding it in a grab-bag he bought at the local grocer. (I'm lying. He's been here since then, but it was during that extra-special long trip that the grab-bag buy went down. I just have to get my digs in sometimes.) The brown paper bag held the can of rutabagas and another of boiled peanuts (still unused), some shampoo, a jar of creamed lamb baby food, and one of those air fresheners you hang from the car's rearview mirror.
I've never eaten rutabagas, as I recall.
Comes that time in life when the pickin's are damned slim. No problem with clutter in this kitchen pantry or fridge, no way! But what's left in there can be kinda odd. Pretty close to trying to find a way to dilute and drink condensed milk. Also, forgive me if I'm whining about this again, but I have yet to replenish my house's propane tank, so I'm doing as much cooking as I can with electricity, which means toaster oven and crockpot. But before I go baking the canned milk -- I have several bags of dry beans. Perfect for one-dish meals in the crockpot that will last a few days (which is just fine if you live by yourself and hardly ever go out in public). And my all-time favorite legumes are what we call "butter beans", which for the uninitiated are just large limas. And they're not cooked with butter, at least not in my world.
Now I never follow a recipe for butter beans, and I make two versions: vegetarian and not. The difference is in the herbs used and that one has meat. Since this is waist-cinching time, it shouldn't surprise you that I made the veggie style this time. Only THIS time, I dolled it up. After all, woman does not live on beans alone.
In the final tasting, I think this would be several times better with bacon. But that's not what I had, so this is what I made:
Butter Bean and Canned Veggies Soup
about a pound of large dry lima beans
enough water to cover
1 tbsp rosemary, crushed
1 tbsp dried thyme
1 tsp caraway seeds
a handful of chives snipped from the garden
1 tbsp balsamic vinegar
2 cans of whatever vegetables you got
salt and pepper to taste
Do what you will with your dry beans. If you don't already know how to do 'em, it involves a long soak in lots of water. Read the package. Or if they're not in a printed package, do this -- you have two options: fast soak or overnight. Overnight is, well, overnight, but really you can do it during the day, too, if you have about eight hours to spare. I'm pretty sure there's nothing special about the night time that softens 'em better. I almost always do the fast soak, which goes like this: Put at least twice the amount of water over your beans in a pot with a lid. Bring it to boil and turn it off, then let it rest, without taking the lid off, for about 90 minutes.
So once you've done your soaking, put the beans in a crockpot. For a pound of beans I use about two quarts of water. Add all of the herbs and the chives, cover and cook on high for four hours.
After four hours, add your chives and balsamic vinegar. Cook for 90 minutes more. Then add your vegetables -- I had half a can of green beans left over from the night before, and the whole can of rutabagas. Dumped 'em all in there, including the water they were canned in, for added nutrition. And salt.
It was pretty tasty, especially served with bread and butter and a couple of boiled eggs on the side. Like I said, a little bacon would've made it perfect. But I'll have to catch that pork after my next paycheck.
Good news!! That baked oatmeal I came up with? The dish based on one of Mira's good-for-you recipes? Well, it was good. REALLY good. What wouldn't be with a whole can of condensed milk in it?!
But the other day, I was in the usual jam: trying to avoid using what's left of the propane, dwindling ingredient supplies, yada yada yada.
And I came up with an even cheaper version of baked oatmeal pudding! And it cooked just fine in the toaster oven!
I'm excited, and I know you are, too.
SO... here's the revamped ingredients. Just follow the instructions for making it same as the original, here.
2 tbsp margarine
1/2 a leftover 14-oz can condensed milk
1 tbsp honey
2 cups oats
1/2 cup raisins
1/8 cup chopped walnuts (which apparently last for years in the fridge!)
1/2 cup leftover tamarind juice from a can
1 tbsp flaxseed meal mixed with 3 tbsp water (egg substitute)
1/2 tsp kosher salt
In case you live somewhere that doesn't have Tamarind juice, here's what it looks like, so the next time you're traveling somewhere that has a large Hispanic population, you can stop in a store and get some.
and here's what's left after I've eaten it for the past few days:
