Grateful for...Worcestershire Sauce!

As the finish line comes into view on the marathon that has been 2010, I’m taking a moment (or two) to focus on the things in my life for which I am grateful. While cleaning people and double ovens still top my list of things that make me smile, I am aware of the other things...

This being a food blog and all, I will attempt to stay on topic. Food items. There are many unsung heros of my kitchen. The ingredients called on frequently that I probably could live without, but wouldn’t want to. These poor essentials live lives of anonymity where, even though they are called on several times a week, they are never ever given top billing in the title of any dish. My fingerprints are all over their bottles. My kids know their aromas well. They are called ‘the secret ingredient’. Um yeah. Well, I’m letting one of them out of the closet today and singing his (he’s definitely male) praises. Worcestershire Sauce....I must say that this guy has been hanging around my refrigerator for decades and was rarely called on unless I was serving steak. I grew up with a father who put it on steak so that’s what I did too. The kitchen of my childhood housed it somewhere when it was not being used, but I am at a loss to tell you where. Sadly, the Worcestershire Sauce of my adult life has suffered a similar fate...until this year. I’m not sure when it happened, but sometime in 2010 I was at a loss for an appealing ingredient to add to something and decided that the smell of the Worcestershire Sauce was something of a ‘must add’ to my dish. Oh my! The miracle sauce transformed my dish...and my mind. I now buy the stuff at Costco - because I use so much of it!

While the ingredients listed on the bottle of the sauce are not something I would have thought to mix together (anchovies, tamarind, molasses, garlic, vinegar, chilies, cloves, shallots, sugar, and blah, blah, blah chemical), two guys in England did. Great story here (or legend, I’m not sure which). Story goes that Mr. Lee & Mr. Perrin mixed this stuff together and tasted. Absolute horror. They stuck it on a shelf for a few years and forgot about it. Someone decided to do some house cleaning one day (I’m guessing) and discovered the long-forgotten bottle. The brave soul opened it and was rewarded with what we know to be Worcestershire Sauce today.

The following recipe started as a Better Homes ‘New Cook Book’ recipe (the big red and white plaid book), but has been so modified over the years that it scarcely resembles the original anymore.

Beef Stew

1/2 cup all-purpose flour

2 tsp salt

3 lbs beef stew meat cut into 2ish-inch cubes

2 tbsp cooking oil

1 medium onion

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 tsp dried thyme, crushed

3 cups vegetable juice cocktail

1 cup water

1 tsp instant beef bouillon granules

3 tbsp worcestershire sauce

few dashes bottled hot pepper sauce (I use several)

2 medium potatoes, peeled and cubed

2 cups sliced carrots

In a plastic bag combine flour and 2 tsp salt. Add meat cubes, a few at a time, shaking to coat. In a large Dutch oven brown meat, half at a time, in hot oil. Return all meat to Dutch oven; add onion, garlic, and thyme. Stir in vegetable juice, bouillon, worcestershire sauce, hot pepper sauce and water. Bring to a boil and reduce heat. Cover; simmer 1 1/4 hour or till meat is nearly tender. Stir in potatoes and carrots. Cover; simmer for 30 minutes more. Season with salt and pepper as needed.

Perfect winter meal. Serve with biscuits. A friend’s son calls this goulash. Call it whatever you want, but don’t forget that it is the Worcestershire sauce giving it that rich depth of flavor that cannot otherwise be achieved. Dig your bottle out of the refrigerator and start experimenting. It’s a wonderful compliment to any dish containing beef...and then some!

An Obsession With...

Obsession:

–noun

1.

the domination of one's thoughts or feelings by a persistent idea, image, desire, etc.

2.

the idea, image, desire, feeling, etc., itself.

3.

the state of being obsessed.

4.

the act of obsessing.

The obsessed brain is an exhausting place to be. The constant ebbing and flowing; the need to improve; the mania to keep creating, searching, doing..... Donuts. I’m talking about donuts, of course. Obsessions are a constant with me. While some obsessions are not particularly interesting or endearing to my family (parsnips, for example), this one is. The donut obsession was triggered by an article from the Chicago Tribune’s Food Section (Wednesday - the best day of the week). ‘Morning glories’ proclaimed the above-the-fold title. I think it was the haphazard stack of donuts next to the steaming cup of something, luring me down below-the-fold that really hooked me. The stack led to a recipe for buttermilk donuts. The recipe had ingredients that were already in my kitchen and promised me 1 1/2 dozen donuts in about 45 minutes. I decided to challenge the Tribune and see if all this was true. Out came the ingredients and sure enough, within 40ish minutes, my kids (who were just rising to consciousness) were stumbling blindly down the stairs, being led on a current of vanilla-scented air. Success with the first go-around! I won’t bore you with the details of the batches that have followed, but will tell you that my daughter’s cross country team friends hope the obsession continues for a long time to come.

Buttermilk Doughnuts

4 1/4 cups flour

1 tbsp baking powder

3/4 tsp salt

1/2 tsp baking soda

1/4 tsp cinnamon

pinch grated nutmeg

2 eggs

1 egg yolk

3/4 cup sugar

1 tsp vanilla

1 cup buttermilk (I have also used whole milk with equally great results)

3 tbsp butter, melted

vegetable oil

Sift together the flour, baking powder, salt, baking soda, cinnamon and nutmeg in a large bowl. Beat together the eggs, egg yolk, sugar and vanilla in another large bowl with a mixer until light and fluffy, 2-3 minutes. Stir together the buttermilk (milk) and butter in a large measuring cup. Alternately beat the dry ingredients and buttermilk mixture into the egg mixture, a third at a time, until a soft, sticky dough is formed.

With floured hands, place dough on a floured board; gently roll out until the dough is 1/2-inch thick. Cut the dough into doughnuts, using a doughnut cutter or 2 biscuit cutters (1 larger one about 3 inches in diameter and 1 smaller one about 1 inch in diameter). Collect the scraps; roll out to form another batch of doughnuts (this batch may be a little tougher than the first as the dough has been worked).

Meanwhile, fill a deep fryer or large saucepan with oil to a depth of at least 3 inches; heat to 350 degrees (or until oil is shimmering). Gently place the doughnuts in the oil, being careful not to crowd. Fry until puffed and golden, 1 1/2-2 minutes per side. Drain on a rack; cool slightly. Frost and decorate as desired. Our favorite topping is a simple sprinkle of powdered sugar.

If you have any left over (if), these are great the next day...for the squirrels in your back yard. Don’t waste your time eating them day-old. Just make another batch....see how these obsessions work?

Shrimp Salad - On the Fly!

Usually there is nothing good about opening the freezer - while the sun is still struggling to raise itself from the other side of the planet - and seeing the ribs you were going to take out to thaw, already dripping. Come on, say it with me ‘ahhh sh**’. You know what follows. The crazy thought that somehow the plug came out of the wall....even though the light is on. Then the burst of strength as you pull the refrigerator out from its fridge cave so you can check the back - looking for...I don’t know what. When acceptance finally settles in, the real work begins. The mad dash to remove all the perishables...wait, that would mean everything, right? Yup. And so it goes. Bag after dripping bag of stuff either gets tossed in the trash or run down to the already stuffed basement freezer/refrigerator. I’m not looking for sympathy as I know there are plenty of worse things...waking up with a water heater that has kicked up its heels in the middle of the night (cold shower, anyone?); dishwasher that has regurgitated all of its liquid contents all over the hardwood kitchen floor while you slept; cat that has disemboweled a mouse during the night and left it as a gift at the foot of your daughter’s bed... I know. This is not a story of sadness, it’s a story of discovery! While I did discover some pretty interesting bits of Bosworth culinary history, I also found a bag of shrimp I had forgotten about. Yay! A new dinner plan was hatched! Not really hatched, more like fertilized. Ribs were quickly shoved out of the way and in their place a different kind of summer meal started to grow - mentally.

Because I have recently gotten a job and started taking a class (both of these are new endeavours for me), my always-scattered, manic mind is on mega overdrive right now. The shrimp (and dinner) were completely forgotten until about 20 minutes before I was due to leave for my evening class. Four kid faces and one adult husband face stared at me as I started packing up my stuff to leave. ‘What’s for dinner?’ Oh yeah, dinner. I had the shrimp....and nothing else. Quick scan of the refrigerator (complete with its new whatever-costs-$200-part) revealed a ‘not much’ scenario. Today’s blog entry is not so much a recipe as a survival lesson. Here goes...

-1 lb shrimp...into a frying pan with equal parts butter and olive oil. Saute until pink (maybe 3ish minutes). Couple of twists of the pepper grinder over the shrimp. Shrimp off the burner and into a bowl.

-Refrigerator reveals leftover iceburg lettuce (I know, I know...the kids like it on tacos though). Lettuce chopped and onto a large serving platter.

-Fruit bowl reveals two avocados. Peeled, sliced, onto the serving platter with the lettuce.

-Cantaloupe sitting on the counter. Peel, chop, add to serving platter.

-Add cooled shrimp.

-Quick run through the sauces, condiments, ‘stuff’ in the refrigerator door. A mango habanero dipping sauce is located. Pour a bunch into a bowl. Splash some soy sauce, water and lemon juice (or any kind of citrus) into the dipping sauce. Mix it all together. Taste. Pour sauce over entire contents of serving platter.

-Chop up some basil. Scatter over the top.

-Slide platter onto table with 5 plates and forks.

-Kiss family good-bye.

And that is how we sometimes have to roll at this house. Real food. No call to Dominos. Crisp, sweet, creamy, little spicy, crunchy and really delicious. While I don’t wish this scenario on you, it is always comforting to know that much can be made from little when in a pinch. That’s amore, eh?

Cantaloupe Caprese.....ahhhhhh!

Weeds deserve our respect....and loathing. Bi-polar? I know. The emotional swings have been annoying, even to me. The summer of ’10 has proven to be a hot, wet one in the Chicagoland area - perfect for growing weeds. My tomatoes are fairly tasteless, my peppers are not growing at all (except the serranos), the zucchini....well, I got one. My list of complaints over my lack of food production go on and on. But the weeds....they are thriving! Because the builder of my house liked to do whatever was quick and easy for him (she said bitterly), the foundation on one side spills out under the soil for a few feet. Nothing can grow there. Every year I put decorative flower pots, filled with flowers to disguise this wasteland. This year the flower pots are engulfed in a splendid display of one-foot high weeds. From a distance it doesn’t look bad...well, from a distance with one eye closed and the other one squinting... As I was getting up the courage to go and attack this weed patch, it got me thinking of another time in my life when the plants could not be controlled. If you’ve ever grown any kind of vining vegetable/fruit plant, you know that they can take over a place while you’ve got your back turned, pouring a glass of lemonade. In this previous case, however, I was not complaining...too much.

Cantaloupe. The word itself is beautiful. Roll it around in your mouth and tell me it doesn’t feel good. I can never spell it, but I love saying it. And eating it. Years ago when I still lived in Massachusetts, I planted a few beautiful little plants with barely four leaves on them. Little mounds with furry green sticking out. I couldn’t understand why the directions insisted on a few feet between mounds, so I simply ignored that point. As usual, I lived to regret it. Monster vs. Aliens. Have you guys seen that movie? It’s a kids movie that came out a couple of years ago. The pumpkins in the patch grow wild, sprout legs and chase little kids around. Yeah, my cantaloupe plants were something like that. As long as I could hack off a cantaloupe every now and then, I didn’t mind. It would take an act of God, some high-octane manure and hourly prayer/chanting to grow anything resembling a cantaloupe on the soil I now call home. I have to buy them. No mind, they’re still good. This summer, along with the weeds, my recipes for cantaloupe products has been abundant. I thought we had had it all when I came across a recipe in La Cucina Italiana magazine that was sort of an ‘aaahhhhhh’ moment for me. We eat a lot of caprese salad here - tomatoes, mozzarella and basil. La Cucina substituted the tomatoes with cantaloupe. Aaaaahhhhhh.... A sweet, comfortable, luxurious breathe of amazing! This is a ‘must try’...seriously. Couldn’t be easier and will leave you thinking about summer - warm breeze, flip-flop summer - for a long time to come.

Caprese di melone con pesto leggero

(melon caprese with a light pesto)

1 packed cup fresh basil leaves

1/4 cup plus 1 teaspoon extra-virgin olive oil

2 tbsp pin nuts

fine sea salt

1 small (about 2 lb) cantaloupe, halved crosswise, seeded, sliced

3/4 pound fresh mozzarella

Combine basil, oil, pine nuts and generous pinch salt in a food processor (they recommend blender...I couldn’t get it to come together in a blender, but you may be able to); puree until smooth. Adjust salt to taste.

Arrange cantaloupe on a plate, inserting slices of mozzarella in between. Drizzle pesto over entire plate. Serve. It’s really that easy!

Although my kids have always loved (and continue to love) the original caprese salad, they have begged for this version since first trying it. My husband, who is a purist, also loves this! Indulge your senses....it’s so worth it!

From Mad Men to Marmalade

'I'm going out to get a bucket of chicken.' states the glamorous, beautiful and very pregnant Mrs. Draper (who normally makes home-cooked meals for her family). For those of you who follow Mad Men, you know who she is. I am currently watching season three in an attempt to catch up with season four. As I watched the DVD this morning, it got me thinking... Although the 50’s and 60’s were an amazing period of time in our country’s history, I believe it was a space of years that messed with our food in unforgivable ways. The frozen, canned, plastic-encased stuff that replaced real food lowered the bar to such a level that we are still recovering from it today. How could someone go from cooking a homemade pot roast one day to pulling a previously-frozen slab of pseudo-meat on a piece of aluminum out of the oven and call it good? Preachy and judgmental of me - yes. Shortly after learning that if you can read, you can cook, I discovered the secret. The secret of real food. All (or most) of the food you can buy in containers from the store, can be created for real in your very own kitchen. And, most importantly, it tastes better! Oh yes, and no chemical additives means it’s better for you. Revelation!!

My son Owen is six. He loves food. He loves learning about food. He loves experimenting with food. He loves cooking food. And, at a young age he learned that anything he can pick up in the store that is enclosed in a container, he can probably make at home. Even if it doesn’t work out to be better tasting, it’s fun to try. He’s a sauce guy. Loves sauces of every kind. Jams and jellies fall into that sauce category for him, so when he went to eat his beloved orange marmalade on his muffin one day, and all of the sudden shouted out ‘Mom, can we make orange marmalade?’! I knew we had moved into a new area of food prep. ‘Sure!’ We gathered ingredients, researched recipes, labored over getting the orange slices out of the membranes and ..... it was pretty bad. ‘Too much lemon.’ He stated. ‘Why did they have us put lemon in there?’ I was much more concerned with the 5 cups of sugar we had just introduced to our beautiful orange mixture. The marmalade hit the trash. But we were undeterred. Peach season is upon us now. The boy loves his peach jam. And so, we tried again. SUCCESS! Great flavor! Really easy and quick. I can see you smirking right now. I am not losing my mind. Yes, you can get really good single-batch specialty jams. Is mine better than that? Maybe better, maybe worse. We have messed around with the original recipe now to include serrano chilis and (drum roll) BACON with the peach (completely awesome!) and made it in small batches so as to avoid all that canning stuff. It’s fun and easy and can be done in the time it takes to make any sauce you normally make for your food. Did you think those jelly guys did some magic stuff that we lay people couldn’t do? I did. Now I know that’s not true.

Bacon and Serrano Peach Jam

2 lbs fully ripened fresh peaches, washed, peeled, and pitted

1/4 cup fresh lemon juice

2 serrano chilis (I’m sure you can use any kind of chili here, I just happened to be growing these in my garden right now), chopped, seeded, membranes removed

5ish pieces of bacon- chopped and cooked

1 pkg powdered fruit pectin

1 cup mild-flavor honey

Chop or coarsely grind peaches and serranos, blending with lemon juice (I threw the whole thing in the food processor and let it do the work). Measure prepared fruit, packing down in cup. You should have 2 full cups. Place fruit and lemon juice in a 6-quart stainless steel or enamel saucepan. Add pectin and mix well.

Bring to a boil over high heat, stirring constantly. When fruit is boiling, stir while slowly pouring in honey, blending well. Continue stirring and return to a full rolling boil. When boiling cannot be stirred down, boil for 4 more minutes. Remove from heat. Stir in bacon. Alternately stir and skim (taking the white foamy stuff off the top) for 5 minutes to cool slightly.

At this point the authors of the original recipe tell you to can it or freeze it. This makes a batch small enough to eat in a week (or a couple of days at my house), so there is no need to go through the whole canning process.

EASY! FAST! INTERESTING! I encourage you to keep experimenting with added flavors or just eliminate the chilis and bacon and stick with the original. You can take this recipe as far as your imagination will allow. The original recipe, btw, was created by Carol Hupping and the staff of the Rodale Food Center in their book ‘Stocking Up’. Enjoy!

P.S. The jam pictured above was the first batch we made so it doesn't have the serranos or the bacon in it. Technical difficulties prevented me from downloading the pictures of the 'fully-loaded' jam.

A Chicagoland Twist on an Indiana Classic

The conversation went something like this:

‘Linda, have you ever heard of a place called...I’ll spell it, g-n-a-w-b-o-n-e?’

‘(speaking phonetically) Naw bone? Yeah, I’ve heard of it.’

‘Is it far from your house?’

‘About a half an hour, why?’

‘Gourmet Magazine just wrote about some place called the Gnawbone Food & Fuel in Gnawbone, IN. They apparently make amazing pork tenderloin sandwiches! Have you ever heard of pork tenderloin sandwiches? It’s an Indiana thing.’

‘Um yeah, I’ve had them before. Everyone has them. Liz, the Food & Fuel is a gas station.’

‘No, it must be a different place. Up for a road trip?’

‘Okay.’

So I loaded up the kids and drove five hours from Naperville, IL to Madison, IN. The next day, with my sister and her two sons also packed in the minivan, we headed off to Gnaw Bone, IN to taste-test some raved-about tenderloin sandwiches. The Food & Fuel IS a gas station. The Food & Fuel tenderloin sandwiches were pretty terrible (gas station food terrible), but at least the service was...terrible too. The Gourmet Magazine article was proudly displayed across the front of the counter that encased the unsmiling, unpleasant woman responsible (allegedly) for taking orders and providing food. I couldn’t possibly have made this story up and I have pictures to document our efforts. We ate the leather-esque sandwiches (complete with gas station quality hamburger bun and limp supermarket tomato) in the fix-it bay area of the gas station. Could have been charming and cool....wasn’t. I learned a very important lesson that day that I take with me going forward.... I’m just kidding. I didn’t learn any lesson and that same indulgent sister has accompanied me on other dreadful search and discover food missions since this one. I’m still optimistic/naive enough to travel anywhere to try food I’ve read or heard about. The upside to this particular adventure (other than some really good ice cream further down the road) was my desire to figure out how to make a GOOD pork tenderloin sandwich.

If you’ve read this blog before then you know that I hold pork tenderloin in very high esteem. I LOVE pork tenderloin. The thought of forcing it into an unnatural state was a bit painful for me however. A very short-lived pain, I assure you. Because the flavor of pork is so amazing, very little - in the way of flavoring ingredients - needs to be added. My family and I believe the ‘sandwich’ part of the ‘pork tenderloin sandwich’ adds nothing so we have chosen just to eat the pork cutlets. Feel free to encase in a good-quality bun if you want.

Chicagoland Pork Cutlets (as opposed to Indiana Pork Cutlets)

1 2ish pound pork tenderloin

1 cup panko (Japanese style) bread crumbs

1/3 cup regular bread crumbs

1 tbsp dried thyme

1 tbsp dried oregano

1 tsp dried mustard

1 tsp salt

1/2 tsp fresh cracked pepper

2 eggs lightly beaten

2 tbsp water

dash of tabasco (this can be left out, but I love a little zing in my food!)

3/4 cup flour

Vegetable oil

Cut across pork tenderloin making 1-inch thick discs. Place one disc between two pieces of parchment paper or wax paper. Pound with meat mallet until 1/2 inch thick. Continue doing the same with remaining discs.

Heat 1/2 inch vegetable oil in large frying pan (I use a paella pan because it’s big and deep) until shimmering.

I use 3 pie pans for this next step. Place flour in one pie pan. Combine eggs, water and tabasco in second pie pan. Mix panko crumbs, regular bread crumbs, thyme, oregano, mustard, salt and pepper in the third pie pan. Take the first cutlet and dredge in the flour, completely covering. Dip the cutlet in the egg wash. Coat the entire thing with the panko mixture. Complete 2 or 3 at a time - depending on how many will be cooking at once. Slide these gently into the oil to cook and then prepare the next 2 or three. I have found that if the cutlets sit, already completely prepared for more than a couple of seconds, they get mushy. Do not crowd the pan or the temperature will drop and the cutlets will soak up too much oil, thereby making them greasy and soggy. Cook 2 minutes per side. Remove to an waiting plate covered with paper towels to absorb excess oil.

This recipe takes minutes to create. The pork is tender on the inside and really crunchy on the outside. And, best of all, the flavor of the pork tenderloin is allowed to be itself! Amazing pork flavor with crunchy exterior!!

Chicken on a Stick...the Latest Disguise

’10 Easy Ways to Eat Less Meat’. Front cover of Fine Cooking magazine’s Aug/Sept edition. My initial reaction was ‘why?’. Why is everyone so hung up on eating less meat? I love being an insatiable carnivore. Love it! Now if the article had been entitled ’10 Ways To Eat Less Chicken’, they might have peaked my interest.

My lack of respect for chicken is not undocumented. I have been loud and strong on my feelings about ‘the other white meat’ (pork is, of course, the REAL white meat). Over-used, nothing-but-boring chicken is the devil that I know. I don’t really want to get into the devils that I don’t know. Chicken is for dressing up and pretending ...pretending that it’s something else. Whoever coined the phase ‘let’s put some lipstick on this pig’ really meant chicken. I’m almost sure of it. My latest attempt at creating a convincing chicken incognito resulted in some very pleasing chicken satay, or as we in this elegant dining area I call home say, ‘chicken on a stick’.

After sifting through a number of definitions of ‘satay’, I have concluded that the terms simply means meat that has been marinated, skewered and grilled. Many different meats. Many different marinades. Even many different skewers (coconut fronds, anyone?). Basically though, it is some kind of meat on a stick that has been infused with some kind of flavor and cooked over some kind of fire. Good. I can work with all of that.

As much as I slander chicken, I also call on it frequently to feed my family. I know, I know - hypocrite, right? It is easy to work with and quick to prepare and affordable so I keep coming back ....and whining. I went in search of a chicken satay recipe in order to prepare some take-along food for a swim meet my kids were participating in. After years and years of spending the summer attending swim meets and eating burgers and pizza at said swim meets, this year I decided to put a stop to all of it. I have been preparing and taking our family’s meals instead. This has required some creativity on my part as it’s not always easy to assemble a desirable meal for a family of 6 and transport it via cooler and beach bag to areas not known for their cloth-napkin dining. Chicken satay seemed like a fun, interesting prep for the lowly chicken for this particular occasion.

God bless the internet! While I am a very low-tech person, I do indulge in plenty of research (on every imaginable subject) with the aid of my beloved computer. ‘Chicken satay’ was typed in the Google search box. Two second and one billion options later...I had clicked and printed a recipe. I have this one little problem. Focus. I am very good at doing 26 things at once, but ask me to sit down and focus on one thing at a time and I am incapable. (Those in the know call it A.D.D., I believe) This should have been easy. I started assembling the recipe (without having read it through to the end). About one quarter of the way through, I realized there was trouble. I forged on. More trouble. And more. And more. The recipe was a disaster. If you’ve worked with food for any length of time, you can spot things that simply won’t work. Cooking methods, food flavors, missing ingredients...that sort of thing. The recipe below provides very good results...it is not, however, the original recipe I started out with so I will not be crediting any source. Changes on the fly were made and alterations proved successful.

Chicken Satay with Peanut Sauce

2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breast

2 tbsp sesame oil

2 tbsp vegetable oil

1/2 cup minced onion (I have used sweet and red)

2 tsp minced garlic

2 tsp minced ginger (I have used powdered in a pinch - 4 tsp)

1 tbsp red wine vinegar

1 tbsp brown sugar

1/3 cup peanut butter

3 tbsp ketchup

1/4 cup soy sauce

3 tbsp lemon juice

1/4 tsp salt

1/3 cup peanut butter

1 - 2 tbsp Sriracha hot chili sauce (this can be eliminated if you don’t like spicy-really enhances flavor though)

If using wooden skewers (which are much more fun, btw), be sure to soak them in water for at least 30 minutes. VERY IMPORTANT! Skewers that go up in flame, causes chicken that goes up in flame!

Cut chicken into 1/2 inch wide strips.

Over medium heat, combine both oils. When oils are heated, add the onion, garlic and ginger and saute for 3ish minutes. Be sure to take a really deep breath here because your kitchen will now smell AMAZING! (If using powdered ginger, add with vinegar.) Add vinegar, brown sugar, ketchup, soy sauce, lemon juice and salt. Continue cooking for another 5ish minutes - until sugar is dissolved. Stir peanut butter into the mix and remove from heat immediately. Add the chili sauce (if desired). After marinade has cooled, pour into large zip-lock bag and add chicken. Make sure all chicken is coated. Marinate for about 1 hour.

Remove chicken from bag and thread onto skewers. Discard remaining marinade. Grill chicken over medium-high grilling heat for about 3 minutes per side.

Peanut Sauce:

2 tablespoons smooth peanut butter

2 tablespoons soy sauce

1-2 cloves garlic, minced or chopped

1/4 cup water

1 tablespoon brown sugar

juice from half a lemon (can be less, depending on your tastes)

In a non-stick pan, combine all ingredients, stirring constantly over medium heat until peanut butter has melted.

My family eats the satay without any sauce. I think the sauce enhances the dish so I recommend it. It is not necessary though. As mentioned above, this meal can easily be transported, eaten hot or cold. I have yet to find the person who doesn’t like this particular disguise for the poor chicken! Enjoy!

P.S. I couldn't find any kind of appealing way to photograph my version of 'Chicken on a Stick' so I decided to try to win you over with pictures of humans/children instead. The picture is of my daughter Tori (at a swim meet) holding the latest chicken disguise.

From Kitchen Aid to Cookies

The Chicago Marathon is on October 10th this year. 10-10-10. Cool, right? I tell you this because I’m allegedly training for that marathon right now. I have run the last two Chicago Marathons and unfortunately know exactly how much I have to run and how much I can blow off and not die (this is not a good thing as I will ALWAYS do the minimum to get the job done). This past Sunday was one of those days that I really HAD to run. I was supposed to log 10 miles but only did 8...okay 7.5. While out on the trail, a guy who looked like a ‘real’ runner approached, coming from the opposite direction. The first thing I noticed was his brand new half-marathon t-shirt. He had obviously participated in a recent half-marathon that I had read about, but had not participated in. I immediately held him in higher-esteem. Race t-shirts are the badge of honor reflecting the hard work put forth by the runner and the completion of a set goal. It occurred to me that while I, as a runner, was impressed by this shirt, a non-runner probably would not have cared or noticed the t-shirt at all. AND, more importantly, if a non-runner had taken any notice of it, wouldn’t have understood the significance of the hours of training that had gone into achieving such a milestone. I have no way of knowing if this man had just finished his first half-marathon - something that he had worked years at achieving - or his 500th and it was no big deal (btw, running 13.1 miles is never ‘no big deal’), but I did give the guy some more room on the trail and a big smile in an attempt to show my respect.

This incident got me thinking about the other symbols and signs in my life. The ones that show the world who I am and what I’m interested in. The birdbaths and bird feeders surrounding my house speak clearly to my love/interest in birds. The overwhelming stack of books on the table next to my bed speak of my love of history and food. The basement that rivals Joanne’s Fabric speaks of my love of crafts, specifically kids crafts. And my kitchen.... a quick scan of my kitchen provides all kinds of information about me. I LOVE kitchen gadgets. The most prominently displayed one being the Kitchen Aid stand mixer. People who cook notice this piece of equipment while people who don’t cook, couldn’t care less. While the mixer is a beloved resident of my favorite area of the house, it can clearly be identified as a status symbol. That mixer is the Mercedes Benz sitting in my driveway, telling the world I’m doing okay and I know what I’m doing.

The Kitchen Aid showed up in the form of a Christmas gift one year from my husband. I had told him I really needed one. It was, of course, a luxury item considering the cost ($300ish) and the lack of baking I was doing at the time. I pulled the beautiful, shiny, smooth, rounded magnificence out of the box and just stared at it. After the staring period was over, I moved it to the counter in my kitchen. And there it stayed for about two years. It was dusted and moved out of the way to clean around it, but it was never called on to assist with anything. I had the book, the video and all the attachments but I had no idea how to use it (this may surprise you but I’m not the best at reading those books that come with everything). I knew that every serious cook owned one and used it for everything but unlike my food processor that gets used regularly, I couldn’t figure out how this huge thing could make my life any easier. What makes this story even better is the fact that I went on to ask for the pasta-making attachment and the ice cream maker to go with my beautiful, red, shiny, $300ish counter-chachki....and got them. And still didn’t know what to do with it. It took a rainy Saturday afternoon and some seriously competitive genes to get me to finally figure out the mighty mixer.

I have mentioned a few hundred times that I am not a baker. My kids, while educated in the arts of foods from many countries, did not frequently (ever) come home to homemade cookies. One rainy Saturday afternoon my husband took it upon himself to bring homemade cookies into our home. I had slipped away from the chaos to sneak in a nap. When I awoke, our house smelled wonderful and my kids were happily chomping away on peanut butter cookies. ‘Where did you get those?’ I asked. ‘Dad made them.’ Seriously? ‘Yes, seriously.’ He said confidently. The kids were happy and the cookies (much as I hate to admit it) were good. Fast forward a couple of days...’hey Mom, can you make some of those cookies Dad made? They were really good and I want some more.’ Damned kids! I assured them that I would love to make those cookies. Hand-mixer, softened butter, mess everywhere....I did make the cookies, but didn’t enjoy one single second of it (other than eating, of course). There had to be a better way... Ina Garten (the Barefoot Contessa) was on the Food Network making some kind of cookie something or other. She just dumped a whole bunch of ingredients into the same Kitchen Aid mixer I had, pulled the lever forward and magically the dough was done. I decided to give it a shot. Paddle attachment?!! What’s a ‘paddle attachment’? I did finally have to break out the instruction booklet if for nothing other than to figure out what the various parts were. I put the right attachment on the mixer and dumped all the ingredients. It was just that easy. A whole new world was opened that day!

My kids have homemade cookies all the time now. They also have fresh bread almost every day (kneading hook, dontchaknow?). And, the ice cream maker has now been used countless times. Pasta maker...not so much. Soon, very soon. There’s a reason for the weight and the price of this machine...it’s indestructible! I throw butter practically frozen in there and that thing grinds and spins until the contents of that bowl are a fluffy, creamy pale yellow. Imagine doing that with a hand-mixer?! No thanks.

So back to those cookies...I couldn’t just replicate the cookies the husband made. He has a real job and a real career that involves other acts of brilliance. I had to go above and beyond his act to show my value in the kitchen (this is after all what I do all day and don’t get paid for). While job security is pretty good in my position, it was a matter of pride that I do better than he did. Good peanut butter cookies can only (in this woman’s opinion) get better with chocolate. A simple peanut butter cookie made with quality ingredients has no place to go if it stays a peanut butter cookie. Add chocolate and you have another creature altogether. So add chocolate I did. I’d love to tell you that I created this recipe but I don’t understand the chemistry of baking enough (yet) to create any kind of recipe. I have this amazing cookbook called ‘The All-American Cookie Book’ by Nancy Baggett. I refer to it frequently now that I know how to use the stand mixer. These cookies are a favorite in my house and I make them often. One note here...because my kitchen was very warm on the day the above picture was taken, the cookies are flat. Usually that are more mounded (is that a word?). If your cookies do not turn out flat...that’s okay, in fact that’s better.

VERY IMPORTANT INFORMATION: (dramatic, I know) Like most people, I try to save a couple of bucks here and there when I can. Having said this, there are some things you should NEVER skimp on. Good-quality chocolate is one of those things. Save money on butter. No one can tell the difference between store-brand butter or brand-name butter (but be sure to use butter...not that fake, chemical stuff). Cheap chocolate is not worth anything. You might as well put brown food coloring as an ingredient instead. Buy the best chocolate you can get your hands on...it makes all the difference in the world. Enough ranting...

Peanut Butter-Chocolate Chunkers

2 1/2 cups all-purpose white flour

1 tsp baking soda

1/4 tsp salt

1 1/4 cups smooth or crunchy peanut butter

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter

1 1/2 cups packed light brown sugar

2/3 cup sugar

2 large eggs

1 tbsp light corn syrup

2 tsp vanilla extract

10 oz bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, chopped (I have also used good-quality chocolate chips here - and much more than 10 oz...if you LOVE chocolate, go crazy)

About 1/2 cup chopped unsalted peanuts, for topping (I have also used - and love - salted cashews)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease several baking sheets.

In a medium bowl, thoroughly stir together the flour, baking soda, and salt; set aside. In a large bowl, with an electric mixer on medium speed, beat together the peanut butter, butter, brown sugar, and sugar until very well blended and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Add the eggs, corn syrup, and vanilla and beat until well blended. Beat or stir in the flour mixture until evenly incorporated. Stir in a 1 cup of the chopped chocolate. Let the dough stand for 5 minutes, or until firmed up slightly.

Shape portions of the dough into 1 3/4-inch balls with lightly greased hands. In a small bowl, stir together the remaining chocolate and the peanuts (cashews). Dip one half of each ball into the chocolate-peanut mixture until some bits are embedded. Place the balls, coated side up, on the baking sheets, spacing about 2 3/4 inches apart. pat down the tops of the balls just slightly.

Bake the cookies, one sheet at a time, in the upper third of the oven for 13 to 16 minutes, or until lightly browned all over, slightly darker at the edges, and slightly soft when pressed in the centers.

Transfer the sheet to a wire rack and let stand until the cookies firm up slightly, 1 to 2 minutes. Using a spatula, transfer the cookies to wire racks. Let stand until completely cooled. (These cookies are NEVER allowed to completely cool. My kids stand and wait for them to be not-mouth-scalding temperature and then devour them.)

Peas, Pleeeeease!

Today was the last swim meet of the season at our local pool. Because it was a seemingly endless meet and because I was one of those parents whose job it is to stand next to the launching area (known as the block) and time the kids (aged 5 - 18) while they swim and because I was very bored, I started questioning (harassing) the swimmers in the queue. It started with small questions like ‘what’s your middle name?’ and from there I’d try to silently figure out how their parents had chosen those middle names. (Father’s ex-girlfriend, Mother’s aunt who would die and hopefully leave her money, you get the idea) Eventually the middle name thing lost its excitement. I decided I could use this time and these (un)willing participants to conduct a very scientific survey instead. ‘What’s your favorite food?’ Huh? ‘What’s your favorite food?’ Slowly the eyes would rise to meet mine. Wide blue/brown/green eyes looking at me trying to figure out what I was talking about (this is not typical conversation behind the block). ‘What’s your favorite food?!’ Um, cheese pizza. I was fairly nice for the first round but after I had heard cheese pizza and pasta with butter - no cheese (tragic, I know) enough times, I started tuning them all out and completely losing interest in my new project. Just when I thought I’d have to change my strategy again, along came Jacob. Jacob is about 10 but I’ve known him since he was about 5. Apparently I’ve never had a food discussion with him before. ‘What’s your favorite food?’ Lamb chops. Before I could pick my chin up off the deck, he was on the block and gone. The next time the poor kid was sent back to Lane 4, the interrogation continued as if he had never left. ‘What do you eat with those lamb chops?’ Mashed potatoes, gravy and steamed (yes, steamed) broccoli. Up on the block and gone again. Damn! I needed to talk to this kid. Third time around... ‘why do you like lamb chops?’ My Mom cooks them for me and they’re good. Ahhhh, there it is. His Mom cooks them for him. She doesn’t cook lamb chops for herself and chicken nuggets for him, she cooks one meal for the whole family and as a result he sees this as his real food as well. Okay, so this isn’t some kind of earth-shattering find. I knew this already. But now I had proof. Very scientific proof. I tell you this story because it was a highlight of my day and because my kids are mad about peas for a similar reason. I love peas and have been inviting my kids to share my love of peas since they were born. Happily, they have all accepted.

It took me a long time to love peas. I was brought up tolerating the little green nemesis and swallowing them whole as a way to ‘just get it over with’. The peas of my youth (and maybe your youth as well - unless you’re under 32 or had a mother who could cook) were born of aluminum cans. In fact, all the vegetables of my youth came from those same cans. Peas, corn, Veg All (do you guys know about this dreadful stuff? It was the most prevalent form of vegetable at our dinner table....oh how those lima beans still manage to give me nightmares)... unless it came from a can, I was not likely to have known it. Peas were tasteless mush. Actually, not tasteless. They tasted like metal. Mushy metal with a viral green color. So swallow them whole I did. The taste buds were never engaged.

Around the time I turned 30, I decided to explore gardening. My husband and I purchased a house out in the country. The house came with 2 1/2 acres of land. We didn’t have any kids. I had quit working. What’s a girl to do with that kind of scenario? Well, first thing is to plant 32 tomato plants and every other kind of fruit/vegetable you can get your hands on. Ignorance being bliss here, of course. One of those plants (actually six of those plants - because I only bought those 6-pack cells) were peas. The plan was that I would grow them and see what I could do with them. FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS SACRED!!....who had been keeping this secret from me?!!! Peas - as God intended them to be - are amazing! I would hover over the plants until they finally kicked out a pea pod for me to consume on the spot. Love isn’t a strong enough word. When my kids came along, they were treated to the same delight. They don’t know that canned peas exist and I’m sure they would weep if they did. We eat a lot of frozen peas, but fresh is the preferred choice. I guess this would be the time to mention that while my four children look forward to eating meals that include peas, as well as sliding them out of their pods and eating them raw, my 45 year old husband will not. He refuses. He has never embraced the beauty. I believe the culinary traumas of his youth, in this case, go beyond anything I can fix.

The recipe that follows is called Pasta With Peas. You can call it whatever you want. I created it because we were crunched for time (four kids = four different directions after school), needed dinner and had these things on hand. I threw it together without too much thought, but it has become a regular part of our repertoire and I’ve made it for friends as well. Asparagus has been substituted for peas (once) in the past, but the general consensus was that that should never happen again. Leave the peas out if you must, but you will be missing a critical part of this recipe’s charm (last plug for the lovable pea, I promise).

One note about this recipe....the name Pasta with Peas might be a bit misleading. The name implies that the following recipe is light and healthy. I could, as easily (and probably much more accurately), have named it ‘Pasta with bacon, heavy cream and 20 grams of fat’. I don’t really know how many grams of fat are in it, but it’s not a light meal. When my kids say ‘what’s for dinner?’ and I say Pasta with Peas, they know what I’m talking about, thus the name of the dish. Disclaimer is now complete....the cooking can commence...

Pasta With Peas

12 oz bacon (you can use much less if you want. I/we just love bacon)
1 onion (I use sweet) - chopped
1 cup chicken stock
1 1/2 cup heavy cream
2 tbsp cornstarch
2/3 cup water
1 lb pasta
1/4 tsp nutmeg
10 oz. frozen peas (you can also add fresh)

In a large pot, bring water to a boil. Add pasta and cook according to manufacturers recommendations for al dente pasta. We usually use spaghetti, but any kind of pasta will work. I used rigatoni for the picture above.

Chop bacon and cook in large/deep frying pan for 3 - 4 minutes over medium-high heat. Remove bacon to plate with paper towels to soak up grease. Add onions to bacon drippings and cook until translucent - about 5 minutes. Add chicken stock and heavy cream. Rise to a simmer and let cook for about 5 minutes.

Mix cornstarch and water in small bowl. Slowly add cornstarch/water mixture to chicken stock/heavy cream mixture, stirring continuously while adding. Mixture will thicken. Add nutmeg. Add peas to sauce. (If adding fresh peas, remove sauce from heat before stirring into mix) Stir to incorporate. Remove from heat. Add pasta to sauce. Toss together to blend and serve.

Very easy. Smells good. Extremely comforting. All good!



Things I learned today:

1. If you create one meal per sitting, your kids will know that your food is their food and will rise to the culinary level of sophistication you set for them.

2. Midwestern kids don’t ‘get’ New England humor/sarcasm.

3. If you really pressure a kid whose favorite food is a plain hot dog on a bun, they will admit that they’ve thought about trying ketchup.

Biscuits - Not Just for Southerners!

My sons are of the age where they ask such questions as ‘what’s your favorite color?’ ‘what’s your favorite movie?’ and most importantly ‘what’s your favorite food?’ a lot. While I wish I could tell you that I answer the food question with something like truffle-infused filet mignon with beurre blanc sauce, the real answer is mashed potatoes. Cheap date, I know. Tonight when Will asked me this question for the ten thousandth time and I gave my standard ‘mashed potatoes’ answer, I took a mental step back and thought about it some more. While the potato - in all its glorious forms - is right at the top of my ‘I’d take a bullet for it’ list, bread is standing there holding its hand.

I looked up the definition of bread tonight. ‘Baked food product’ was the definition on one website. Baked food product??!!! That could describe roasted brussel sprouts and I think you’ll join me in saying that those two things are not the same...at all! ‘Something that nourishes; sustenance.’ Again, painfully off-target. ‘A staple food made from flour or meal mixed with other dry and liquid ingredients, usually combined with a leavening agent, and kneaded, shaped into loaves, and baked.’ Okay, that’s better. How about ‘the other/better half of spaghetti and meatballs’ or ‘edible soup sopper’ or ‘the addition of which is the deciding factor in whether a food situation is a meal or a MEAL’. Yeah, I think I’ll submit those instead. Homemade bread is a hot, yeasty breathe of inviting warmth that wraps you in love as you walk into a home (not house, a home). For a good part of my life, I was intimidated by bread making. I don’t think I’m alone in this fear. Bread is hard/complicated/a perfectly timed challenge...etc, etc, etc. You can kill the yeast if you over-knead, under-knead, use water that is too hot, use water that is too cold... I remember reading all of these comments. ANNNDDD worst of all, it falls into the ‘baking’ category (of which I am particularly fearful). I bought bread books. I watched TV shows on how to make bread. I just couldn’t bring myself to jump in and try it. Books went back on the shelf and TV programs got turned off. There was good bread being produced all around me, for a nominal price, so why bother trying to do the impossible and create some myself? And so the bread-making thoughts slowly slipped away. And I was happy...for a time.

About eight years ago, I was making Thanksgiving dinner. Thanksgiving dinner is a huge deal here. I love the strategizing that goes along with it. Weeks ahead of time a variety of recipes that have been selected from the previous months’ finds get examined and culled. Only the best and brightest are allowed to make the cut. From there it is determined which ones can be cooked in the ovens or on the cook tops, what dishes can cook together because of time and temperature and how the whole thing will eventually all come together at the end. I had found a recipe for little braided bread rolls with poppy seeds. I wanted them! I wanted to create them! I decided to add them to the roster. As mentioned, Thanksgiving is all homemade with many foods being offered. To add a yeast-risen product of uncertain end result was...well, it was crazy. But I wanted to create them (I am nothing if not fearless in the kitchen)! The project was a success and has been recreated over and over again. It wasn’t hard. (If you can read, you can cook - remember?) The most important thing for me at the time - and still now today - was learning what yeast smells like. Dissolve the yeast in the water and add some sugar to feed the yeast (which is a living organism and therefore needs to eat) and stand back. The smell...the smell is so wonderful. To watch the yeast come to life is a delightful science project. The kid in me will never become immune to the magic.

I make almost all of our bread these days. Not necessarily yeast bread, but some kind of bread. Biscuits...great quaint word that betrays the strength and flavor of the actual end product. I thought Southerners were the only ones to have biscuits. I thought Southerners were the only ones who knew how to make biscuits. Not so. This Yankee girl can whip up a batch of biscuits like nobody’s business with this recipe. I make these several nights a week with dinner. So easy. From start to finish (finish being taking them out of the oven) the whole process takes about 20 minutes. Everybody always eats these, but nobody ever asks me for the recipe. IT’S NOT HARD! Please try them. You will thank me. There is no substitute for real homemade biscuits. Those pop can Pillsbury things should be outlawed. Trust me....

Really Big Biscuits

4 cups all-purpose flour
2 tbsp baking powder
2 tbsp sugar
2 tsp salt
2/3 cup cold butter
2 cups milk

Preheat oven to 425 F.

In a large bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, sugar, and salt. Using a box grater, shred cold butter into mix (I’m sure you could use the shredding blade on a food processor too. I’m just too lazy to clean the food processor just to shred butter) and stir to distribute it evenly through dry mixture. Add milk gradually, stirring just until dough pulls away from the side of the bowl.

Turn dough out onto a heavily-floured surface and knead about 15 times, incorporating more flour as you go. Pat or roll dough out to a 1-inch thickness. Cut biscuits using a large glass (or circular cookie cutter) dipped in flour. At this point, the author of this recipe and I differ in opinion. She continues reworking the dough until all the remnants are used up. Personally, I think that after the initial cutting, only one gathering and re-rolling should be performed. The dough gets too much air incorporated in it (and the butter gets too warm and thus starts to melt) for the biscuits to be any good after that. I’m Irish. I know it’s a sin to waste food. I’m telling you that it’s not worth using the dough to the end. We will all close our eyes while you throw those few pieces away.

Brush excess flour off biscuits and place them on an ungreased baking sheet. Bake until tops begin to brown, 13 to 15 minutes.

BTW, this recipe is from a book called ‘Family Feasts for $75 a Week’. Which may explain the insistence on using the dough to the very end. The author (Mary Ostyn) somehow manages to feed her 10 children, her husband and herself on $75 a week. I thought I’d give it a shot. Nope. Not happening here, but you will see her recipes pop up here from time to time - with additions and modifications.

Second BTW: I like the flavor of buttermilk so I have experimented with the addition of buttermilk instead of plain milk in the recipe above. It’s a great alternative. Don’t dismiss this! I see you shaking your head saying ‘when do I ever buy buttermilk?’ or worse ‘every time I buy buttermilk I use two tablespoons and throw the rest away’. Ah, so you don’t know the trick! Let me share with you a trick I learned from an old, wisened baker lady who hails from the Cajun group known as....not really. I got this out of ??? I can’t really remember where I first read this, but here goes... Add 1 tbsp of vinegar (any kind of vinegar) to just under one cup of milk. That’s it. Instant buttermilk substitute. So go on and give it a shot. It’s worth it!

My family (and everyone else) loves these biscuits. The house smells good! The kids are smiling! It took me 20 minutes! What’s not to love....

In Defense of Emeril...sort of.

For the first 17ish years of my relationship with my husband, he traveled for work...a lot. When a loved one is on the road as much as he was, it is natural to think about one thing. Gifts! There will be travel gifts. Some women like shiny things to adorn their bodies. Some like stuff to dust...like snowglobes. I like cookbooks. I LOVE cookbooks! I have cookbooks from everywhere. You want to know what the Greek ladies at some church in Pennsylvania are cooking? I know because I have their cookbook. The roast duck with cherry sauce I make for Christmas every year comes from a cookbook originating in London. One of the very first cookbooks that arrived home in the suitcase was written by a lean, mean stud of a guy just getting it done in New Orleans. His name? Emeril Lagasse. Hey, stop laughing! This was the early 90s and he was all that. There was no Food Network. Other than e-mail at work, I had no internet access (what internet?). No one had ever heard ‘BAM’ or ‘let’s kick it up a notch’. He was a rebel from Fall River, Massachusetts (a Portuguese working-class town on the Massachusetts/Rhode Island border) who somehow landed in New Orleans. Anyway...I’m feeling a little protective of Emeril. I’m currently reading Anthony Bourdain’s book ‘Kitchen Confidential’. In it he refers to Emeril as a ‘furry little Ewok’. That was funny. I laughed. And then I spent the rest of the day remembering back to the first time I saw Emeril - on the cover of that cookbook, so long ago. He was standing on the deck of a boat with sunglasses, size 32 waist and attitude. I had no idea what he was talking about in most of the book. I had never made a roux. I didn’t know what a mirliton squash was. Hush puppies? Weren’t those some kind of shoes I had worn as a kid? The whole thing was like entering a new world for me. I loved it! I was living out in the woods of Massachusetts at the time and couldn’t find anyone who knew what crawfish was, let alone could sell it to me. I had to mail order crawfish from New Orleans! Emeril opened a whole new world to me. Anne Rice sold more than a few books as a result of my fascination with New Orleans created by Emeril. Vampires and great food? What could be better? By the time Emeril first showed up in Bon Appetit magazine, I felt like we were fast friends. When I finally got to see him on the Food Network...he had changed a bit. He wasn’t as much of a stud as I had worked him out to be in my mind. He was like an Uncle Mortie with an altered Massachusetts accent. I’ll admit that I seldom watch his shows because he is goofy and to hear ‘oh yeah, babe’ roll out of his mouth while adding ingredients makes my skin crawl a bit (again with the Uncle Mortie thoughts...but this time it’s a dirty old man Uncle Mortie). Yeah, he’s changed but there’s a lot to be said for the guy. I have often spent time looking longingly into the lobster tank at the supermarket thinking ‘I’d love to get some of those but they’re too expensive and I can’t afford them.’ I’m pretty sure Emeril never has that problem. And longevity...who has greater longevity than Emeril? I can still remember when Bobby Flay was awarded the James Beard Rising Star Award. Emeril had already been cooking for perhaps decades by that time. Emeril Lagasse doesn’t really need my defense. He has plowed head-long into a career that was stolen the soul of many a person. I’m not sure if his soul is still intact but I know that he must be doing something right or his empire wouldn’t be where it is today.

I just pulled out that first cookbook, circa 1993. My intent was to resurrect some magical recipe from the past and share it with you. Not going to happen. It’s been a while since I poured over Emeril’s accounts of New Orleans cooking so I had forgotten...forgotten that every recipe has 20 ingredients with the top two heavy hitters being butter and heavy cream with white flour thrown in for clumping affect. I love sauces as much if not more than the next guy, but if you try some of these recipes, you’ll stroke out before the hour is up. I did use a more current Emeril recipe to make beignets for this past Mardi Gras celebration and it didn’t kill us so I’ll share that one with you instead. Beignets, for those who are unfamiliar, are bready, donutty things with powdered sugar on them. Eaten hot out of the fryer, they are one of the most wonderful delights you can treat your mouth to.

Sweet Beignets

• Corn oil, for frying, or another oil with high smoke point, such as safflower or peanut

• 3 1/2 cups sifted flour, plus extra for rolling

• 1 teaspoon baking powder

• 1/4 teaspoon salt

• 1 cup sugar

• 4 eggs, lightly beaten

• 1/3 cup canola oil

• 1/3 cup milk

• 1/2 cup powdered sugar, for serving

Fill a large, heavy-bottomed, wide-mouthed pot halfway with corn oil and heat over a medium-high flame until oil reaches a temperature of 360 degrees F.

While the oil is heating, sift together the flour, baking powder and salt. In another large bowl whisk together sugar and eggs. Stir canola oil and milk into sugar-egg mixture. Stir dry ingredients into egg mixture until a biscuit-like dough forms.

Lightly flour a work surface and turn out the dough. Sprinkle dough lightly with flour and, using a rolling pin, gently roll the dough out to a thickness of 1/8-inch. Using a sharp knife or dough scraper, cut into 2-inch squares. You will have scraps leftover but do not try to remix these as that will cause tough dough; just fry as are.

Use the dough scraper to lift dough squares off the work surface. Fry the beignets in small batches about 4 minutes, or until golden, turning several times to color evenly. Using a slotted spoon gently remove the beignets and drain thoroughly on paper towels. Place powdered sugar in a sieve and shake over the beignets to cover with powdered sugar and serve immediately.

Moral of this story....if you’re looking for a defense attorney, you might not want me. I believe that Emeril is a master....a master of promotion. He has a line of cooking products (edible and inedible), a number of restaurants, a number of television shows, and legions of loyal worshippers. I’ll leave you with a quote from the above-mentioned Kitchen Confidential...’For every schlockmeister with a catch-phrase and his own line of prepared seasonings who manages to hold American television audiences enthralled, there are scores more who manage to show up at work every day in a real kitchen and produce brilliantly executed, innovatively presented, top-quality food. I am, naturally p***** off by the former, and hugely impressed by the latter.’ I could be wrong but I believe that Emeril started out as the latter and allowed himself to be seduced into the lifestyle and thus the life, of the former.