A little trip requires a lot of cleaning and I prefer baking so I made cookies and the apartment is still gross. But carrots! Cookies! Carrot cookies!

Tremendous news – we’re going on vacation! A short one, but it counts because there are planes involved (several … which is only glamourous if I don’t tell you that we have layovers … on a trip from Vancouver to San Francisco) and because we are staying in hotel rooms and not tents. I all-caps HATE tents. At the first sight of springtime sun, Nick gets all goobery-eyed at the idea of driving to the middle of nowhere and sleeping in a tent we borrow from one of our sets of parents, and subsisting on hot dogs and box-wine while sitting in busted folding chairs for four days. Which? I’ll pass on, thanksverymuch. The last time we went camping we ended up parked beside the highway and Nick fell asleep under a van in nothing but his underpants and running shoes, and at that point I didn’t even care if he got eaten by bears. We weren’t married yet, so I didn’t have a lot invested in his NOT being eaten by wildlife, and that weekend he had it coming.

But the important thing is not that Nick and I are charmingly, recklessly dysfunctional, or that since it’s my blog I can make him look like the irresponsible one and you have only my word to go on. No. The important thing is that we (me, Nick, and Paul) are going to San Francisco. And also Las Vegas. Because my friend Theresa is flying in from Australia with her boyfriend, and we’re going to have the most fun ever.

And I’ve digressed again, because this isn’t a post to brag to you about my exciting, margarita-filled journey or my tumultuous, margarita-filled marriage. I’m really here to talk to you about cookies, because I thought it would probably be wise to clean out the fridge before we go, and I always get so distracted doing that. Out came the carrots and a lime, and I thought about how nice cardamom would be with all of that, and before I knew it, the butter was unwrapped and the oven was preheating and I’d forgotten why I’d opened the fridge door in the first place.

So these are carrot cookies, but because I was procrastinating, they’re different from your typical carrot cookies. The carrots are not grated as if you were making carrot cake; they’re puréed. The cookies are soft, so fluffy – like little cookie cakes, or sweet tiny scones. I’m going to eat twelve of them with tea for breakfast. There are no awful raisins crammed in, and the spices aren’t autumnal either. Not a whiff of cinnamon in the batch. And forget about cloves! These are carrot cookies for the bunny rabbits – all spring and POP! and there is no way I’m sweeping the kitchen floor tonight.

Carrot cookies

(Makes about 24 cookies.)

  • 3 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 tsp. baking powder
  • 1/2 tsp. baking soda
  • 1/4 tsp. salt
  • 1 1/2 cups sugar
  • 1/2 cup butter (at room temperature)
  • 1 lb. carrots, cooked and puréed (you should end up with 1 cup of purée)
  • 2 eggs
  • 1 tsp. vanilla
  • 1 tsp. lime zest
  • 1 tsp. lime juice
  • 1 tsp. cardamom
  • 1/2 cup sugar, for rolling

Whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Set aside.

Cream together sugar and butter until fluffy. Add carrot, scrape down the sides of the bowl, and mix well. Beat in eggs, vanilla, lime zest, lime juice, and cardamon.

Stir flour mixture into carrot mixture and beat until thoroughly combined. What you will end up with will look like a thick cake batter and a very moist and sticky cookie dough. Place in fridge for 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 350°F.

Roll chilled dough into one-inch balls, dropping and rolling each ball in sugar. Place each ball on a buttered cookie sheet, about an inch apart, and press with the tines of a fork. Repeat, 12 to 24 times.

Bake for 15 to 17 minutes, until puffed and lightly browned. I’d say golden, but these are already orange. I wish I could show you how orange.

Eat as many as you can hot from the oven. Or, cool on a wire rack, and store in a sealed container.

Can I write about meatloaf in May?

I think yes, I can, because it’s my name on this thing and I felt like something meaty. The whole last hour of my day and the entirety of my bus-ride home was spent fighting the urge to chat MEAT! MEAT! MEAT! MEAT! for all the world to hear, and when I finally got here, I dove right into things, mincing shallots and sautéeing finely chopped mushrooms and garlic in butter and olive oil. Can I write about mushroomy meatloaf in May?

Again, I say yes. At the little farmer’s market I go to when I go back to the ‘burbs, there were beautiful little white mushrooms that a sign claimed came from very nearby. And I wanted them, so we’re throwing back to November here, even though it’s warmish out now and the sun periodically mentions itself from behind the clouds. Around here meatloaf is a three-day affair – one day dinner, two days lunches, and I like the long-lastingness of it. Why am I defending this? You know you want meatloaf. There are places where it’s not even really spring yet, and maybe you’re from there. Maybe you want this so bad right now.

Well, here. This one’s a little different – it’s French. Or, rather, French-ish. It starts with shallots, then mushrooms, and then garlic, some dry white wine, fresh bread crumbs, a generous dollop of dijon, enough black pepper, and fresh parsley. There’s meat in there too – I used buffalo tempered with pork, but you can use beef, and venison would be lovely. I’ll bet a bit of lamb would be exquisite.

Anyhow, I made the meatloaf, and it was very good. You can hold off until October, if you want, but I’d make this now. Let it get cold, and slice it into sandwiches, and serve them at picnics.

Mushroom meatloaf

  • 2 tbsp. butter
  • 2 tbsp. olive oil
  • 1/2 minced shallot
  • 3/4 lb. mushrooms, finely chopped
  • 3 cloves garlic
  • 1/2 tsp. salt
  • 1/4 cup dry white wine
  • 1/2 lb. extra-lean ground beef (or other extra-lean red meat, such as buffalo or venison)
  • 1/2 lb. ground pork
  • 1 tbsp. grainy dijon mustard
  • 1 cup fresh bread crumbs
  • 1/2 cup chopped fresh parsley
  • 2 eggs
  • 1 tsp. black pepper
  • 1/4 tsp. nutmeg

In a large pan over medium heat, sauté shallot in olive oil and butter until translucent. Add mushrooms, stir to coat, and allow to cook for five minutes, until liquid begins to drain from mushrooms. Salt, add garlic, and stir. Sauté for another five to ten minutes, until pan is dry and mushrooms have begun to caramelize, achieving a golden hue.

Deglaze pan with wine, and simmer for another three to five minutes until all of the liquid is absorbed. Remove from heat, and allow to cool until you are able to handle the mushrooms comfortably.

Preheat your oven to 350°F.

In a large bowl, combine meats, mushroom mixture, bread crumbs, eggs, mustard, parsley, pepper, and nutmeg. Squish everything together with your hands until pretty well combined. It’s okay if the meats are not thoroughly blended – it’s more interesting if they’re not, actually.

Press mixture into a greased 9″x5″ loaf pan. Bake for 45 minutes.

Remove from oven and let stand for ten minutes before serving. And remember, it’s always even better the next day.

As you may have noticed, meatloaf is one of the ugliest foods, which is one more reason why these photos suck. But don’t let that stop you from making this.

To make up for the photos, and because I’ve been good lately, here’s a sleepy photo of the cat.

Chicken and spinach calzones.

We make and eat a lot of pizza around here – it’s my go-to meal when a bunch of people show up and are hungry. Last summer I discovered my new favourite easy crust, and there’s been no going back – I make it all the time. I change it from time to time – whole wheat flour, a little bit of buckwheat flour every so often, or spelt even. I let it rise a little for a thicker pizza, which is how I like it, or roll it out flat for a thinner crust. Or, sometimes, I add a little bit of semolina flour, give it 30 minutes in a warm kitchen, cut it into eight pieces, roll each piece out until it’s barely as thin as a pie crust, and stuff it with sauce and cheese.

Calzones are a treat, and they’re awesome for lunches at work or school – they’re pizza pops, but with none of that chemical stuff that’ll probably kill you. Cheese, a little sauce, some veggies and meat if you want – and you can stick them in the freezer and reheat them as you need them, in the microwave or toaster oven, whatever you’ve got. And if you’re using an easy crust, they’re the kind of thing you can serve on a weeknight, or even to company, with a little bit of salad and not much else.

If you use leftover chicken, even better! Less effort, so you have more time for drinking beer and inhaling the smell of baking pizza. Which is infinitely better than ordering delivery, even though delivery is easier. Some things are just worth a little bit more time, and people will like you more if you serve them calzones over take out schlock. Some of us need all the help we can get in that regard.

Chicken and spinach calzones

(Makes 8.)

Dough (inspired by a recipe from everybody likes sandwiches):

  • 1 package yeast (or 2 1/4 tsp.)
  • 1 tsp. honey
  • 1 cup warm water
  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1/2 cup semolina flour (if you don’t have this, it’s not crucial; just use regular flour, or sub whole-wheat, if you want)
  • 2 tbsp. olive oil
  • 1 tsp. salt

Filling

  • 2 tbsp. olive oil
  • 1 medium onion, chopped
  • 3 cloves garlic, chopped
  • 1 28 oz. can crushed tomatoes
  • 2 cups shredded cooked chicken
  • 2 cups packed fresh spinach, roughly chopped
  • 1 tbsp. chopped fresh basil
  • 2 tsp. ground black pepper
  • 1 tsp. lemon zest
  • Salt, to taste
  • 2 cups grated mozzarella cheese

In a large bowl, combine yeast, honey, and water, and let stand until foamy, about five minutes. Add flour, semolina flour, oil, and salt and stir to combine. Turn out onto a floured surface, knead ten times, and then place in a greased bowl and cover with greased plastic wrap and allow to rise in a warm place for 30 to 40 minutes.

Use semolina if you can, because it’s extra nice in this kind of crust. It’s a coarser flour, and it produces an excellent crispiness that you’ll want in your calzones. Regular old all-purpose will work fine if that’s what you’ve got, but semolina is a nice touch. A little goes a long way too – spend the two dollars, and you’ll have a bag that will last you a long time, and you can add it to homemade pastas and breads and all kinds of things.

In a large skillet over medium-high heat, heat onions in olive oil until shimmering. Add garlic, stir and saute for another minute, and then add crushed tomatoes. Reduce heat to medium, then add chicken, spinach, lemon zest, garlic, and basil. Taste, adjust salt as needed, and set aside.

Cut dough into four equal pieces, and then cut each piece in half. Roll each piece out until it is no more than 1/8-inch thick – it should be as round as possible, about the size of a small plate.

Preheat oven to 375°F.

Spoon filling onto dough, dividing the amount as equally as possible between all eight rounds. Place the filling slightly above the centre of the dough, so that when you fold the short side of the dough over top of the filling, you still have an inch or so of dough on the other side. Place 1/4-cup of cheese on top of each scoop of filling, and fold dough over.

Press dough down gently to seal, and then fold the remaining dough over the crease to seal. You’ll end up with a sort of scalloped pattern, as you fold each bit of dough over the last. (See below.)

Place gently on a baking sheet lined with parchment or sprinkled with cornmeal. I bake these four to a sheet, with at least an inch between them, as they’ll puff up a bit and get bigger.

Bake for 20 minutes, or until golden brown. Serve hot.

If you’re not going to serve them all right away, you can cool the rest on a wire rack, and then wrap up and freeze. Reheat as needed.

Green soup.

I haven’t been around very much, and I haven’t been cooking. I’ve been busy, which after having been very not busy for over a month has proven exhausting, and even my weekends have been full of things. The past week has blown by and in its aftermath the weather? I am being pulled under it. By tonight I was an antisocial, horizontal mess and my main objective was to eat something restorative, something soothing that would put me back in my right place.

Soup.

Vegetables are greener and brighter these days, and green things are all kinds of restorative. For soothing, an avocado. And if you’re feeling flat and beige, like I am, this is the kind of thing you can make with whatever you’ve got in your fridge – if your green things are chard or kale or even lettuce, it will be more than okay. My favourite leaf is spinach, but you can use what you like. Watercress, arugula, and dandelion greens are in season at the moment. It’s vegan and easily adapted to include other ingredients – the components are only part of the experience and are easily modified, subbed out, or dropped all together.

And it’s smooth, so there’s none of that complicated chewing to be worked out. You can eat it as close to horizontal as is comfortable.

Green soup

(Serves four to six.)

  • 2 tbsp. olive oil
  • 1 medium onion, diced
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 4 cups vegetable stock or water (plus one or two cups additional water, as needed)
  • Juice of one large lemon, about 2 tbsp.
  • 2 to 3 cups leafy greens, packed
  • 1 bunch scallions, chopped
  • 1/3 cup chopped fresh parsley
  • 1/3 cup chopped basil or cilantro
  • 1 avocado, diced
  • 1 or 2 large jalapeño peppers, diced (if you prefer less heat, remove seeds and membrane before dicing)
  • 1 tsp. dried oregano
  • 1/2 tsp. nutmeg
  • Salt and pepper, to taste

Sweat onions and the white and light green parts of the scallions in olive oil, then add garlic. Sauté for a minute or two, until you can smell the garlic, then add four cups of stock, water, or a combination. Bring to a boil.

Stir in green things, allowing them a minute or two to wilt. Add lemon juice, and blend until smooth with a blender (in batches) or a hand blender. At this point, add liquid to reach desired consistency.

Stir in oregano, nutmeg, and salt and pepper. Taste, adjusting seasonings as needed – I used more water than stock, and found I needed about 1 1/2 teaspoons of salt.

Garnish with yogurt, if desired, and serve hot or chilled.

Ten-minute sweet yellow curry.

It was supposed to be Rib Week, and indeed that’s how the week started off, but then I felt an obligation to perform and then some other stuff happened and I decided to hell with it, and stuck the rest of the ribs Nick bought into the freezer for another week. Today we had chicken in an easy ten-minute curry, because I am working on a few freelance writing projects before going back to work and have less time this week than I thought I would.

Don’t let the long list of ingredients put you off. It’s not that much, really, and it really does all come together by the time the rice is cooked. Which leaves you time for other important things, like drinking wine and watching What Would Brian Boitano Make?

Sweet yellow curry

  • 1 cup diced mango (about one mango)
  • 1 banana, sliced into rounds
  • 1 large shallot (or small onion), chopped
  • 1 tbsp. chopped fresh ginger
  • 3 cloves garlic, smashed
  • Zest and juice of one lime
  • 2 tsp. sriracha (or the hot sauce of your choice)
  • 1 tsp. fish sauce
  • 1 bunch green onions, light green and white part separated from darker greens
  • 1 398mL (14 oz.) can coconut milk
  • 1 tbsp. canola or vegetable oil
  • 2 tsp. sesame oil
  • 1 lb. boneless, skinless chicken thighs
  • 1 tsp. ground cumin
  • 1 tsp. turmeric
  • 1 tsp. freshly ground black pepper
  • 1/2 tsp. ground coriander
  • 1/4 tsp. nutmeg
  • 2 red bell peppers, chopped
  • 1 cup frozen peas
  • 1/2 cup chopped cilantro

In a food processor or blender, combine the mango, banana, shallot, ginger, garlic, lime juice and zest, fish sauce, sriracha, white & light green part of green onions, and coconut milk. Pulse or blend until smooth. Set aside.

Chop chicken thighs, and smash each piece with a meat mallet or rolling pin until flattened. Flattening the meat tenderizes it, and it cooks much faster because it’s not so thick.

In a large pan over medium-high heat, sauté chicken in canola and sesame oil. Add bell peppers. Let cook for a minute or two until the chicken browns, stirring frequently. Once chicken has browned, add cumin, turmeric, pepper, coriander, and nutmeg, stirring chicken and bell peppers to coat in spices.

Pour mango-coconut milk mixture into the pan, scraping the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon to remove any browned bits, and stirring to incorporate all of the spices. The colour will be fantastic, possibly alarmingly bright. Reduce to medium heat, and bring to a gentle simmer to warm the sauce through.

Stir in the green part of the green onions (chopped) and the frozen peas. Simmer for five minutes, stirring occasionally. Before serving taste to check your seasoning, adjust as needed, then add cilantro. Serve over jasmine rice.

Seriously – this whole thing takes, like, ten minutes. It’s got a delicate sweetness, but not cloyingly or oppressively so, and gently spicy. It’s fragrant, and all kinds of good for you. Anything that colour has to be good for you.

Radishes are the new whatever we were eating all winter.

Today was supposed to be another errand day, but laziness and that pesky but inevitable St. Patrick’s Day hangover took hold in the morning and I ate one of Grace’s magnificent cupcakes (from this recipe here) for breakfast and thought that I could probably spend most of the day in the bathtub reading Kerouac and imagining I had the oomph to find and follow adventure someplace else. And then, I realized that the breeze blowing through my window was warm, and thought that today was a day I could venture outside in a sundress, with a sweater, of course, so I hopped on my bike and crossed the errands off my list like a champ.

Apologies for the exceedingly blurry photos of late – I discovered after I uploaded these, after lunch had been snarfed down gluttonously, that the lens was dirty, because I am a slob.

It’s so warm and pleasant right now, it’s as if summer is just around the corner. Everywhere I looked, there were rhododendrons and cherry blossoms, and occasionally I caught sight of tulips with petals splayed so wide that spring might as well be half over. It was a glorious seventh day of unemployment, and at this point, I’m not sure I ever want to go back to work. I wish there weren’t so many rules for working – I would be the happiest, most productive worker bee ever if I could follow my own schedule, eat something fresh and homemade at lunchtime, and nap in the sun when I felt like it. There has to be a way to do that. If there is and you’ve figured it out, let me know.

Because it is now spring, and a new season of veggies is upon us, today’s something homemade was radish bruschetta, loosely assembled and flung onto a few crusty slices of rustic baguette. I ate the overflow with a fork, and sipped sweet German Riesling all the while.

And I’ll tell you the ingredients, but there’s not really a recipe, because all you do is throw in a bit of this and that, to your taste, and dump it all out onto a few slices of bread. You can make as much or as little as you need, and you can add anything you like. If you cut the radishes bigger it can be more like a salad, and if you chop them a little finer, they could pass for a sandwich filling.

Radish bruschetta

  • Bread
  • Radishes
  • Feta cheese
  • Mint
  • Parsley
  • Lemon, zest and juice
  • Good olive oil
  • Coarsely ground black pepper

Slice the bread, and into a bowl slice the radishes, crumble the cheese, chop the mint and the parsley, and zest and juice the lemon. Drizzle with olive oil, and grind as much pepper as you like into the mix. Toss. Then spoon out onto bread. This is nourishing springtime lunching at its best.

I think it’s time for a nap now, then a wander to the wine shop, and then to build a fort in my living room.

Not your regular old ham-leftovers soup.

Related to my affection for (or obsession with) all things comfortable, I love soup. Related to my love of all pork products, I also love ham. I like lentils – I would never compare my feelings about them to my passion for ham (or even comfort), but as far as legumes go, they’re pretty outstanding as well. I ended up with a lot of leftover ham this past weekend, as we celebrated my Dad’s birthday and he wanted ham for dinner. He also wanted me to take home all the leftovers, so now my fridge is full – FULL! – of ham. I got the bone too, which is a major score.

I was going to make regular old split-pea and ham soup, because I love its salty porridgeyness, but Nick made a fuss and it was annoying so I caved, and decided that we’d have lentils instead. This is the soup that resulted. Try it with your Easter ham leftovers, and get cozy over a big bowl. And tell me what you think.

Lentil soup with ham

  • 1 ham bone
  • 1 lb. green lentils
  • 2 bay leaves
  • 1 tbsp. olive oil
  • 1 cup finely chopped onion
  • 1 cup diced carrot
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 2 tsp. ground cumin
  • 1 tsp. ground black pepper
  • 1 tsp. lemon zest
  • 1/4 tsp. nutmeg
  • 1 lb. cubed cooked ham
  • 2 tbsp. lemon juice
  • Salt, to taste
  • 1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley

In a large pot, combine ham bone, lentils, bay leaves, and eight to ten cups of water, and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce to medium, and cook for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Meanwhile, heat olive oil in a pan over medium-high heat. Add onions and carrots, and sautée until glistening. Empty pan into pot.

Stir in garlic, cumin, pepper, lemon zest, and nutmeg, and continue to cook for another 30 minutes. Stir occasionally, as before. At this point, you may want to add another cup or two of water, and top up as needed to ensure your soup is a consistency you enjoy.

In the last five minutes of cooking, add the ham and lemon juice to the pot. At this point, it would be wise to taste, and add any salt you need. I don’t recommend salting until almost the end, because ham is so salty and you may not need much.

Just before serving, stir in parsley. Serve hot, with a dollop of sour cream and a sprinkling of additional parsley, if desired.

Around here, it was a hit. And there are lots of leftovers, so I think it will continue to be a hit, right up until we take home our leftover Easter ham and have to make up another batch.

Thai basil is the greatest invention since regular basil.

I’m sorry, I’m really bad at life, and anytime I say “tomorrow,” just tack on a few extra days. I’m a terrible flake. But what else is new.

Well, some things are new.

  • My cat is no longer sleeping through the night. It is annoying, and I feel guilty threatening her.
  • I can no longer wear my favourite leggings as pants because I ripped the inner-thigh seam wide open. Too breezy for comfort.
  • I got laid off. It’s not so bad.

I know, the leggings as pants thing is a faux pas, but to be fair, I own more than one pair of onesie pajamas, at least thirty pairs of slipper socks, AND a knock-off Snuggie. I love comfort so much! All I want out of life is to spend all my time swaddled in soft fabrics while Johnny Depp in eyeliner feeds me pancakes and pie.

The job thing? A bummer I guess but I hadn’t been the happiest badger there anyway, and this may be the kick in the tights-as-pants I needed to figure out what I really want to do. I found myself in a good mood this evening, for the first time in a long time on a weeknight, which makes me think I was probably unhappier than even I knew. I had begun to view showering as a sacrifice I was making for other people.

I am confident though. My cat will improve her behaviour, I will continue to dress shoddily, and I will find another job – with luck, one that involves fame, fortune, and international travel. But none of that is the point of this post. The point is Thai basil, though I am beginning to think that getting to the point might not be my thing.

That green pasta the other day was made with a little pesto I made of Thai basil, cilantro, some green onions, and a few other delicious little things. It makes more than you’ll need to coat a meal’s worth of noodles, but that’s okay. Stir it into soups, or toss roasted veggies in a bit of it. It’s really different, extremely fragrant – aromas of anise and mint in addition to regular basil goodness, and a nice change from regular old pesto.

Thai-ish Pesto

  • 2 cloves garlic
  • 1 cup packed Thai basil
  • 1/2 cup packed cilantro
  • 1/2 cup packed green onions (white and green parts) – about one bunch, chopped
  • 1 lime, zest and juice
  • 2 tbsp. minced lemongrass
  • 2 tbsp. peanut butter (natural, unsweetened preferred)
  • 2 tbsp. soy sauce
  • 2 tbsp. sesame oil
  • 1 to 2 tsp. chili paste
  • 1 tsp. fish sauce

The mixing of this is best done in a food processor, but if you don’t have one, a blender should also work. You may want to add a bit of neutral-tasting oil, such as peanut or canola, to make the pesto easier to blend if using a blender.

Cram the garlic, basil, cilantro, and lime zest into your food processor’s mixing bowl (or your blender’s blendery thing), and squish the lime juice over top. Add the peanut butter, and pulse until well mixed, and until leaves are minced and the colour and texture is uniform. Remove blade.

Stir in soy sauce, sesame oil, chili paste, and fish sauce. Mix well, so that the liquids are thoroughly integrated into your leafy purée. Taste and adjust seasonings as needed.

This makes about a cup’s worth, and it will keep in a sealed container for about two weeks. Or, put it into ice cube trays in your freezer and use in individual portions as needed.

As I mentioned, it’s great on noodles – like soba noodles or udon – and lovely in soup. You could toss it with some stir-fried chicken, or use it with fish, or just add it to a bit of coconut milk for a riff on green curry.

You can find Thai basil in your local Asian market. Mine cost me sixty-nine cents for more than I needed. The rest of this stuff can be found in your local supermarket’s ethnic foods section. I always have it in the pantry, because these are such flavourful, inexpensive ingredients, and they are really versatile – I use them all the time.

Eesh. These photos are all terrible. I’m sorry. I’ve asked for a camera for my birthday, and for professional help. Maybe I’ll buy a tripod on payday. I have a lot more time now, so maybe I’ll learn to at least hold my camera still.

And don’t worry about me – there’s no reason to, though everyone I know has called/IM’d/Facebooked me just to make sure I’m not teetering on the brink or anything. And I can replace those leggings really easily.

Spicy beans.

Right now, Nick is rustling papers at the big computer, and he’s got his headphones on and he’s working on his novel. He’s a very good writer, and much better than I am at staying on task. I’m supposed to be writing as well, because the deal was that we were both going to write bestselling novels at the same time so that we could be awesome together, and then we’d get rich and quit our jobs and do whatever we wanted.

The reality is that I have no focus and my cat is enticing me with her cuteness and my creativity levels have plunged to a new low.

At this point, I shall be an editor forever, which will not help me get rich OR famous – practically no one else cares about punctuation or using the right homonyms.

At least I’ll eat well. Sometimes, distraction is all kinds of delicious.

Spicy beans

(Serves four as a large side-dish.)

  • 2 tbsp. sesame oil
  • 2 tbsp. finely chopped onion
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 tbsp. fermented black beans, chopped
  • 1 to 2 tsp. chili paste or dried red chili flakes
  • 2 tbsp. light soy sauce
  • 1 tsp. black pepper
  • 1/2 tsp. fish sauce
  • 1 lb. green beans, frozen or fresh if in season (if using fresh, blanch first)

In a large pan over medium-high heat, stir together sesame oil, onions, and garlic. Cook together until garlic has begun to brown. About two minutes.

Stir in chopped black beans, chili paste or flakes, soy sauce, black pepper, and fish sauce, and mix until well combined.

Also, I should mention, all of these ingredients should be available in your local supermarket, in the Asian foods section. You can substitute black bean sauce for the beans in a pinch, but cut down the soy sauce if you do.

Add beans, tossing to coat in liquid. Stir-fry for three to five minutes, or until beans are heated through, with skins that look like they’re beginning to wrinkle. Serve hot.

These are like the Szechuan green beans you get at dim sum, and we eat them all summer long. I had some of last year’s beans still in my freezer, and I’ve missed them. They’re a great part of one of those dinners where you don’t feel like cooking, when you want everything to come together in under twenty minutes. Tomorrow, I’ll tell you about the other half of tonight’s meal, which came together in under ten minutes, even though I didn’t end up doing anything productive with the saved time.

Casseroles: Not totally gross?!

I like the idea of casseroles. A whole meal in a single pan that will produce leftovers I can enjoy for lunch the next day? Yes please I want that. I think somehow, somewhere, the casserole went awry. I am not really sure who to blame for this – Kraft? Campbells? In any event, the casserole seems to have somehow fallen out of favour. But not around here. Here, it’s just coming back into style.

Kielbasa casserole

  • 1 medium onion, diced
  • 1/2 cup butter, divided
  • 1 1/2 – 2 lbs. potatoes, boiled, cooled, and cut into bite-size pieces
  • 1 lb. kielbasa sausage, cut into bite-size pieces
  • 1/2 lb. kale, stems removed and blanched
  • 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
  • 2 cups milk
  • 2  cups grated cheese (I used Cheddar, but you could use Swiss, or Havarti – anything you like or have in the fridge)
  • 1 tbsp. dijon mustard
  • 1 clove garlic, minced
  • 1 tsp. ground black pepper
  • 1/2 tsp. dried thyme
  • 1/4 tsp. nutmeg
  • Salt, to taste
  • 1/4 cup bread crumbs

Preheat oven to 375°F. Thoroughly butter a 9″x13″ casserole dish.

In a large skillet over medium-high heat, melt two tablespoons of the butter, and add onion. Sauté until translucent, then add potatoes, and cook until lightly browned. Add kielbasa, and reduce to medium heat.

In a saucepan over medium-high heat, melt remaining butter, and stir in flour until the mixture forms a paste. Whisk in milk and reduce to medium, stirring frequently until thickened, about two minutes. Stir in 1 1/2 cups of cheese, mustard, garlic, pepper, thyme, nutmeg, and salt. Taste before salting too heavily – keep in mind, your sausage will be plenty salty as well.

Add blanched kale to the potato mixture, then pour sauce over, tossing to coat. Pour mixture into casserole. Sprinkle breadcrumbs and remaining cheese over top, then slide into the oven, and bake for 30 to 35 minutes, until bubbling and golden brown.

You could substitute bratwurst for the kielbasa if you wanted, sub in whatever kind of cheese you have or prefer, add mushrooms if you wanted, or use spinach instead of kale depending on the season. This was a nice, hearty, easy meal, and Nick has asked that it be made again. Because it’s so saucy, you might try over egg noodles or braised cabbage, or with a side of crusty bread to wipe your plate clean.

It’s homey, and sort of rustic, and I want to call this a casserole because it reminds me of something you’d serve on a weeknight, to your family or an apartment full of hungry friends, and not just for it’s delightfully cheap and easy attributes. And for all that cream sauce? It’s surprisingly not heavy or unpleasant once it’s in.

So, anyway. I think it’s time we made casseroles cool again. You in?