Holy Crap Mac N' Cheese!

So it’s nearly pay day which means there’s not a whole lot of money right now to be making a full on shopping trip.  I was going to make spaghetti, and had already thawed out ground beef, but realized I would have to go on a full on shopping trip to get what I needed, so Plan B, wing it.  Last night I got home relatively early, immediately got pasta water heating for macaroni, and chopped up an onion.  I browned up the ground beef with the onion, some garlic, and a packet of taco seasoning that I got as a sample.  I drained off the fat and added a can of drained pinto beans, a drained can of corn, and a big can of Ro-Tel not drained.  I added a couple dashes of tapatio and put it aside.  Then I got a homemade cheese sauce going and poured that over the now cooked macaroni, and added the beef mixture.  I didn’t tell anyone what I was making, I just served it with more grated cheese on top.  I made my big guy up a bowl, and served him, then went back in the kitchen to serve myself.  All of a sudden I hear, “Holy crap babe!  What is this?!  It’s great!”  So now I have a name for this pantry and fridge throw together recipe.  Heheheheh

Traditional Family Meals

So all I blog about is food because it means that much to me.  It really does.  Last night I made Swedish meatballs.  We’ve been eating that dish for decades in my family.  I remember vividly my mom using the McCormick pouch.  It used to be two different pouches of mix, one for meat, one for the sauce, like savory Fun Dip without the candy stick, but now it’s one pouch.  It’s still consistently delicious as it was then.  Mom always always served a vegetable.  For Swedish meatballs it was usually canned green beans.  It was cheap and readily available then.  She still serves canned green beans.  Times are better, but now it’s more about tradition.  I like to steam a medley of cauliflower, broccoli, and carrots in the microwave and add melted butter and Mrs. Dash.  My man has been crazy for sprouts lately, so we have them a lot too.

Delicious!

So the chicken breast recipe I made turned out great.  Even though I usually hate instant mashed potatoes, they really must have improved over the years because the ones I made last night were actually pretty dang tasty.  I also threw together a salad of baby greens, romaine, and spinach with tomato, French’s onions, and croutons.  I got some Greek yogurt bleu cheese and avocado cilantro dressings too.  Tonight will be mom’s award winning chili and salad.  Maybe cornbread.  I did the dingdong move of forgetting to put the gas cap back on my car this morning so I will have to stop off on my way home tonight to grab a new one.

More food is life

So today I have in my crock pot a recipe I committed to memory that was super simple.  It called for an envelope of ranch dressing mix, a can of cream of chicken soup, a can of cream of mushroom soup, cooked bacon bits, and sour cream.  I had just a pinch of bacon bits, and only a little sour cream, but I gave it a go.  We’ll see how it turns out.  Last night I had chicken thighs that I had defrosted days ago and finally cooked them up after they had been marinating in balsamic vinaigrette.  I used the grill pan that I got for Christmas.  Must have turned out well.  My big guy gobbled it right up and there were leftovers.  As for me, I ate dark meat all my childhood and ate it because mom cooked it, but I really don’t care for it.  I prefer breast, so I cooked up a prefab breaded chicken breast stuffed with broccoli puree and cheese.  It’s okay in a pinch.  As long as everyone else liked what I cooked! 

Living to Eat

As far back as I can remember, food has been a gigantic part of my life.  Dad was a chef for most of my life, but Mom is the one who actually showed me how to cook.  I was making scrambled eggs, grilled cheese sandwiches, and Campbell’s tomato soup by the time I was 6.  I never actually ate scrambled eggs, mind you, because I’ve hated eggs ever since I can remember.  Even thinking about the smell and the texture makes me gag.  I can’t be in the same room if someone is eating any kind of egg.  Have to digress here, but usually someone who loves food so completely has something they don’t like.  In addition to eggs, I’m not a big seafood eater (but I’m trying), and I can’t stand okra.  The brilliant Robin Williams once described okra as “boogers wearing a sweater,” and I don’t feel he was all that far from the truth.  I’m sure even Andrew Zimmer or Anthony Bourdain have things that they just can’t eat, and I’ve seen Andrew Zimmer eat an ocean stew that way too closely resembled ejaculate.  He remarked that it was so thick that it made his lips stick together. It was incredibly revolting.  I turned around to see Mom’s reaction, and she opened her mouth with a loud, wet smack, and sent me into hysterics. Anthony straight up ate an antelope colon with the Kalahari bushmen.  They squished out the poop, gave it a roast, and served it right up, and that was right after he ate an ostrich egg omelette that had been roasted right in the fire ashes.  I don’t have nearly the intestinal fortitude of those guys, which is unfortunate, because I know there’s a lot out there that I should put in my mouth.  Okay, yeah that sounds filthy, but it’s a big deal in my family.  If Mom approaches you, and says, “Put this in your mouth,” it’s not a request, it’s an order.  There’s an implicit trust there, so without hesitation you just have to open your mouth and let Mom or Susie (my sister, the youngest) shove a food in there.  Susie will even prepare the perfect bite just for me if we’re having a restaurant meal, and I know that’s big love right there.  She does the same for mom, and for her husband Leo.  Now Leo has food rules, and food rules drive me crazy, but my hate for eggs drives a lot of people crazy so I can’t say too much about it.  Leo is the MOST fun to watch when he eats.  He’s got these caterpillary eyebrows that wiggle like a drunk uncle at a wedding trying to do The Worm.  Mom will stop what she’s doing just to watch his face as he eats, especially if it’s her cooking.  Mom’s cooking is beautiful.  It helps mend hearts, and satisfies the soul.  Susie, Daniel (my brother) and I, and our families all swear that her gravy could cure cancer.  I’m fairly confident that in small part, Leo, and my husband Tony, married Susie and I for mom’s cooking.  Susie and I have learned her most of her recipes, and now we cook for our families all the time. Mom does have two main things with her cooking that I have yet to master, but I vow to learn.  The first is her cancer curing gravy.  Maybe I am cooking the roux too long, or not long enough.  My gravy tastes way floury, and turns into glue immediately.  Mom’s tastes smooth and takes on the taste of whatever grease was used to make it.  A skin doesn’t form on it for at least half an hour.  The other technique is her perfectly golden crunchy on the outside, mealy tender on the inside, skillet sized hash brown.  Once she’s satisfied that she’s applied enough butter, and one side is cooked and ready to be flipped, does she grab a spatula?  Well yes, but only to peek at the underside, and loosen the grip on the skillet.  This is where the technique comes in.  She takes the pan off the burner with both hands, does a slight graceful bend of the knee, flicks her wrists, and sends that puppy skyward for a full 360 flip.  She has never missed.  Not once.