All by Myself…

I never get to eat dinner by myself. Never. I dream about it, I fantasize about it, I plan what I will cook or lay out for myself as if I were some sort of self-serving Geisha: a perfectly ripe pear, three slices of Manchego and a nearly transparent piece of Parma ham. Truffled grits topped with a poached quail egg and a delicate salad of field greens dressed with Olive Oil and an aged Balsamic. A tofu and cashew stir-fry over brown rice with a citrus salad.

Tonight, as it turns out, I am dining alone.  Mr. Annie is in Indiana, Sam is eating Kentucky Fried Chicken at Youth Group, and I was supposed to go to a dinner meeting but I have the kind of cough that makes people look at me like I am the TB carrier on the plane, so I am home alone. Had I but known, I would have bought myself something They won’t eat. Unfortunately, I didn’t see it coming, and there is really nothing interesting to cook. (No one was supposed to be here, tonight). There is no Manchego, no quail egg, no tofu.

I’ll figure something out, but my choices (as far as I can tell) are limited to Frosted Mini Wheats, oatmeal, Healthy Choice Garden Vegetable Soup, or eggs and toast.  There is also some light cream cheese and a container of chocolate frosting, as well as a Parmesan rind, a withering lemon and a bag of baby carrots. There is always peanut butter in the house, and, oooooh…a jar of marmalade. (What is a “marmal,” anyway?) I could have a peanut butter and marmalade sandwich with a glass of milk and maybe (if I’m feeling dangerous) some baby carrots. It would be kind of like school lunch, only quieter and without that hot lunch smell.

Despite my graphic and extensive fantasies about dinner for one, it’s turning out that all I really want is something quick and simple to eat while I read my book in the quiet house. If someone else were here, and hungry, I could make something good out of the odds and ends available to me, but they aren’t, and I don’t want to. The beauty of dinner alone is that there are no expectations other than my own, and I can just have a new fantasy that involves not cooking. Tonight, it’s probably going to be the crunchiest of generic peanut butter and a delicate swathe of ancient marmalade on rugged slabs of Pepperidge Farm oat bread, with an icy glass of skim milk. Tonight, that’s the stuff dreams are made of.

A Dirty Cookbook? Don’t Say I Didn’t Warn You.

I have held off writing about this cookbook that I really, really love, because I was worried that I might offend someone. I can’t wait any longer, so my solution is as follows: I am writing about it, and if you are easily offended, skip down to the recipe. There.

The cookbook in question, which is much more than a cookbook, is called I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence, and is written by Amy Sedaris. Amy Sedaris, in addition to being the sister of my idol David Sedaris, is an actress best known for her role in “Strangers with Candy.” She is unnaturally funny, has a keen grasp of pop culture past and present, and even if one does not cook, this book is worth reading  just for the “helpful suggestions,” the photographs and the illustrations. In the first chapter, “what a Party Means to Me,” Sedaris gives the following pointers for being a “Self-Realized” person:

-Be unique in a way that is pleasing to everybody.

-Accentuate the positives – medicate the negatives.

-Have a hairstyle that is flattering to some and offensive to few.

-Have access to money.

-Never cry yourself to sleep in front of others.

The entire book has a retro sensibility that will be immediately familiar to any 40-something who read books like The Seventeen Guide for Girls, or Betty Crocker’s New Boys and Girls Cookbook. (There is even a picture of a bean mosaic – that standby of 1970s summer day camp). This is emphatically NOT, however, a book to give to your young children, your friend who believes that “American Beauty” glorifies pedophilia, or anyone that you don’t know very, very well. There is, for example, a recipe for “Three Way Cake” with “cupcakes as sloppy seconds,” and directions for a “Ladies Night” party including (hilarious) directions for vaginal self-examination. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

In addition to a very smart and funny read, Amy Sedaris gives us a lot of seriously great recipes, because she really can, and does cook. Many of the recipes are Greek, and every one I have tried (and I’ve tried a lot of them) has been excellent. Her Pastitsio is one of my standard dinner party dishes, served with her Greek Beans and a salad. Her Zucchini Fritters are to die for, her Lil Smoky Cheese Ball is fabulous. You need to buy the book. No, wait: you need to buy the book if you are an adult, not easily offended, and you have looked at it in the bookstore so you won’t be shocked when you get home.

Here, for those who can’t wait, or are easily offended, is:

Amy Sedaris’ Pastitsio Recipe

(from I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence)

Ingredients

Macaroni

*1 (16 ounce) package ziti pasta
* 5 tablespoons butter
* 3/4 cup parmesan cheese or kefalotiri
* 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
* salt and pepper
* 3 eggs, lightly beaten

Meat Sauce

* 1-1 1/2 lb ground beef
* 1 onion, chopped
* 1 crushed garlic clove
* 3 tablespoons olive oil
* 1 can tomato paste, small
* 1/2 cup red wine
* 8 ounces beef broth or stock
* 2 tablespoons parsley
* 1/2 teaspoon sugar
* salt and pepper

Cream Sauce

* 1/3 cup butter
* 1/2 cup flour
* 3 cups milk
* 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
* salt and pepper
* 1 egg

Directions

1.Preheat oven to 350°F
2.In a large pot, boil and drain your ziti, return to pot. Melt butter. Pour over ziti and toss. Add 1/2 cup of the cheese, the nutmeg, salt and pepper. Save a little of the cheese to sprinkle over the top before baking. Toss again and set aside. Let it cool a little before adding the eggs. Toss well.
3.To make meat sauce, brown meat in a frying pan until almost fully cooked. Drain off the fat and set the meat aside. Fry onion and garlic in oil. Add meat and remaining ingredients. Cover and simmer for 20 minutes.
4.To make the cream sauce, melt the butter in a saucepan. Stir in flour and cook until smooth. Add milk all at once and bring to a boil, stiring constantly. Add nutmeg, salt and pepper. Let it cool, then stir in th beaten egg.
5.Add 1/2 cup of this cream sauce to the meat sauce and mix.
6.To assemble, use a 13x9x3 inch oven dish, buttered. Spoon 1/2 of the macaroni evenly on the bottom, then top with the meat sauce. Cover that layer with remaining macaroni. Pour on cream sauce and spread over the entire top. Sprinkle remaining cheese on top and bake until a little brown, about 45 minutes.

The Role of Casseroles

We have a fairly serious issue regarding casseroles on Forest Street. Some are greeted with wild enthusiasm rivaling a Baptist church on Easter morning. These include lasagna, macaroni and cheese, cassoulet and pastitsio. Others, the boys would eat, but I will not. This group includes tuna noodle casserole, and anything involving Campbell’s Cream of Anything and/or Velveeta. In the gray area, is anything bland, mushy and anonymous. Many casseroles turn out to be in this category, although a quick read through the recipe might lead you to believe that there would be texture, flavor or identifiable protein. The problem is that casseroles, by definition, require at least one liquid as a binder, and that makes it difficult to maintain the texture of any ingredients that start life with a little crunch. There are ways to infuse a little crunch into a casserole, but Mr. Annie dislikes water chestnuts, and don’t talk to me about crumbled potato chips, fried onions, or those Chinese noodles that come in a can.

The casserole I am about to present to you was, originally, dangerously close to the mushy and bland category, but was redeemed by the miracle that is Rooster Sauce.  In it’s original form, the recipe called for taco sauce, a substance I have always found to be sort of bitter and strange. I have also never seen it in a real Mexican restaurant, although I probably just ignore it in my search for real hot sauce. I made this recipe ages ago and my audience was less than dazzled. This time, I replaced the taco sauce with Rooster Sauce, which is really not Mexican at all…but then neither is this casserole, by any stretch of the imagination. With this substitution, I can recommend this as a meal that is (while not particularly high-toned or authentic) spicy, tasty, thrifty and easy. The recipe is going in the Permitted Casserole Hall of Fame, having risen from the depths of Mushy and Bland.

Burrito Pie

(Adapted from allrecipes.com)

Serves 8 moderately hungry people, or 4 hungry people.

INGREDIENTS

* 1 pound lean ground beef (or Chorizo, if you like)
* 1/2 onion, chopped
* 1 teaspoon minced garlic
*  1 (2 ounce) can sliced black olives, drained
* 1  (4 ounce) can diced green chili peppers, drained
* 1 (10 ounce) can diced tomatoes with green chile peppers
* 1/2 cup Rooster Sauce (Note: if you don’t like really hot food, you can use half Rooster Sauce and half water)
* 1 (16 ounce) can refried beans (I use the vegetarian kind)
* 6 (8 inch) flour tortillas (or more, if needed)
* 8 ounces shredded Monterey Jack cheese

DIRECTIONS

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
2. In a large skillet over medium heat, saute the ground beef for 5 minutes. Add the onion and garlic, and saute for 5 more minutes. Drain any excess fat, if desired. Mix in the olives, green chile peppers, tomatoes with green chile peppers, Rooster Sauce and refried beans. Stir mixture thoroughly, reduce heat to low, and let simmer for 15 to 20 minutes.
3. Spread a thin layer of the meat mixture in the bottom of a 9×13 baking dish. Cover with a layer of tortillas followed by more meat mixture, then a layer of cheese. Repeat tortilla, meat, cheese pattern until all the tortillas are used, topping off with a layer of meat mixture and cheese.
4. Bake for 20 to 30 minutes in the preheated oven, or until cheese is slightly brown and bubbly.