Happy Pigs and Tasty Potato Salad

When I decided to move to Walla Walla, I started doing my research, and was pleased to discover Thundering Hooves, a local farm and butcher shop that sells humanely- and sustainably-raised meats. It was surprisingly difficult to find pastured meat in Boston, and when I did find it, it either had to be ordered way ahead or bought in large quantities. The possibility of walking into a butcher shop and walking out with something for dinner that night, something I knew had been raised and fed humanely, well, it was pretty exciting.

For some reason, though, it took me over six weeks to find the time to go check it out. But finally, this week, I left work a little early (the place closes at 5!) and bought me some happy meat.

Johnny Machete? Johnny Marzetti? Just call it delicious.

If you’ve been around here long enough you’ve heard me mention Gilmore Girls, many times. It’s one of the only television shows I’ve ever become addicted to (for longer than a week), and I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve watched the entire seven-season series through not once, but twice. And yes, I own them all on DVD. I don’t really know what it is about those fast-talking, witty ladies, but I cannot get enough, and I’ve gotten more than one person (like, pretty much everyone I’ve ever lived with) hooked as well, so I know it’s not just me.

What, in the name of all that is good and holy, does this have to do with food? Well, other than the fact that those Girls eat a lot of it, there is one particular episode (in Season 3) in which a strange casserole is mentioned: Johnny Machete. Nothing is said except that it contains cream of mushroom soup, and come on now, every casserole worth its weight contains cream of mushroom soup. It’s not called casserole glue for nothin’.

3rd Annual Cold Weather Chili Party

I love chili party time. It’s the only thing that makes the encroaching cold weather bearable. (It’s 25 degrees outside right now, folks, and I’m not liking it one bit.) In fact, I suspect this, my last East Coast winter, is going to be particularly difficult, and thus am contemplating a mid-winter chili party, a kind of third and a half annual (huh?) in March, just to make the rest of the cold times bearable.

(Just to give you a sense of how terrible my memory is, I thought that last year’s chili party was held in October…but it was actually in January. I think I block most memories of winter and pretend that any good events from those months really occurred in less treacherous times. That is just my theory.)

Regardless of how cold it is, or what month it is, or any of that unimportant stuff, making chili is one of my favorite wintertime things to do. I have a standard recipe I’ve been making for probably about six or seven years, and it’s pretty close to what my mom made throughout my childhood. But I strayed this year, my friends, I strayed. I made chili without any beans for the first time in my life. And I liked it.

Grandpa’s Seven Layer Dinner

Alright, no hatin’ people. I know that picture up there looks like a bowl of mush, but I am here to urge you to look past the mush to the delicious, comforting treat that is Seven Layer Dinner.

My brother got married last weekend (yay! Andy and Lisa! yay!), and some wonderful person gave them a slow cooker. When they opened it, my brother immediately exclaimed, “Yeah! Seven Layer Dinner,” and I remembered my Grandpa’s Seven Layer Dinner for the first time in years. Seven Layer Dinner is quintessentially Midwestern and perfect for cold, yucky days when you need something warm and comforting at the end of a long day. After we got back to Boston, I immediately emailed the grandparents for the recipe.

Lackluster Short Ribs Become Delicious Spaghetti

I am all about finding new lives for leftovers, so I have to admit I’m a big fan of the new Bon Appetit column, Family Style. Every month they feature one meal, and a creative idea for the leftovers. They’re always simple and not too time consuming, and October’s especially caught my eye: Braised Short Ribs. It’s starting to feel like slow cooker time, and I’d never made short ribs, so I had to try it. But even from the beginning, their suggestion to use the leftovers for spaghetti sauce sounded even better than the braised short ribs themselves. And it was.

Sadly, my first attempt at short ribs just wasn’t that spectacular, and I blame it on the fact that I didn’t want to run across the street for a bottle of wine at 8 in the morning. Yet again, the inability to buy a bottle of wine in most grocery stores in Massachusetts thwarted dinner. I forgot to make a stop at the wine store after grocery shopping, and when I started putting it all together in the morning, I had to substitute water in the recipe. And that was a bad substitution. I suspect the wine would have added more flavor, and perhaps helped eliminate some of the greasiness that resulted.

I’m in love with steak burritos.

I’m very firmly against this whole idea that Labor Day somehow signals the end of summer and, more importantly, the end of grilling season. So last weekend, we decided to throw a “Summer’s Not Over Yet” barbecue, to keep the love of the grill alive. Of course, the weather was totally crap: over 90% humidity and rain, rain, rain. But we were not to be daunted. We fired up that grill anyway, and everyone huddled on the back porch and sweated.

I decided to forgo the typical burgers and potato salad route in favor of a Santa Maria-style barbecue. Or rather, a Boston-style Santa Maria-style barbecue, seeing as how some of the staples of the central California coast are unavailable on this side of things, including tri-tip steak and pinquito beans. I have on several occasions expressed my love for the tri-tip, but in my 20-some years of living in California, I’ve never really heard of this traditional Santa Maria barbecue, and I’d certainly never heard of pinquito beans. In the last few weeks, however, I started reading about this California tradition seemingly everywhere, and I knew I had to pay homage, even if my homage was a bit flawed.

Slow Cooked Al Pastor-style Pork

This summer is passing much too quickly for my taste. I can’t believe my birthday has come and gone, and even worse, that it’s taken me over a week to blog about this year’s pork spectacle. I’m not sure when or how I decided that my birthday was an ideal occasion for very large, fatty pieces of pork to be slow cooked in various ways, but that seems to be the new tradition, and I’m already plotting next year’s preparation of the other white meat.

But I am getting ahead of myself. This year I got it into my head that I wanted to make al pastor. I’m not quite sure why. In fact, I had never had al pastor. When I was a kid in San Diego, I was a pretty firm believer that carne asada burritos were the only respectable way to go. And al pastor is meant to be cooked on a vertical rotisserie. It’s not like I have one of those sitting around. Whatever the reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about al pastor for weeks, and it seemed as though I would really have no choice for the birthday feast: al pastor it would have to be.

It is Totally the Year of the Pot Roast

One of my favorite food bloggers, The Pioneer Woman a. k. a. Ree, declared 2008 as the year of the pot roast, inspiring me to try my hand at one mid-western culinary stand-by I had yet to tackle. Mr. X could hardly believe that the simple perfection of a pot roast had never graced my kitchen, and to be honest, I could hardly believe it either. (And to be doubly honest, it still hasn’t; I made this at his house.) It’s not that I’ve never had pot roast before. I mean, I was born in South Dakota. But my mom wasn’t really one for cooking up huge chunks of meat, so it certainly wasn’t a staple dinner of my childhood. And I’m not really one for the huge chunks of meat, either. It never occurred to me to buy a huge beef shoulder or whatever it was I bought and throw it in a pot. Trust me, it will occur to me in the future. Often.

The beauty of the pot roast is twofold: It takes about three hours of oven time to properly cook a huge chunk of meat, enough time for your kitchen (or entire apartment, if you live in the city) to become warm and delicious smelling. This is splendid during cold, cold winters. And because you’re pretty much just leaving it in the oven for those three hours, the amount of effort you actually put into what amounts to a substantial pile of food is minimal. I like minimal. Oh wait, and there’s a third beauty: A pot roast doresn’t require a ton of expensive ingredients. I like inexpensive.

Chicken in Creamy Chive Sauce and Some More Pork

Oy. Once again, time has gotten away from me and I find myself sharing something I cooked a week and a half ago. It was so delicious, though, that I can’t just relegate it to the files of the never posted. And look, Ma, a balanced dinner! I made this for Mr. X and was all worried that it wasn’t going to be that good: I got the recipe from Eating Well, and have found it to be a little hit or miss (my Mediterranean Pasta Bake was kind of bland, even after I added seasoning to the original recipe). This recipe, for Sauteed Chicken Breasts with Creamy Chive Sauce, was a winner.

Only the blog has been neglected, my stomach remains satisfied

Oh the neglect. I must apologize to whatever readers remain. The past few weeks have been stressful, exciting, busy, exhausting, fantastic, and terrifying. This being a student again thing is turning out to be more intense than I expected. My previous educational experiences stand out in my mind as a series of thrilling days full of joyful learning. I didn’t remember the hard work parts. I’m remembering them now. Don’t misunderstand. It’s freakin’ great, but I am tired.

I finally got a chance to talk to the Lady Crystal today (oh thank god, I needed that) and her plaintive sighs about missing my cooking and my blog are what brought me to the ‘puter tonight. It’s about time, and I swear, I will do my best to not let so much time elapse in the future. Especially because I really have been cooking things. I’m not subsisting on take out and frozen pizza, I swear!