Doing my part to disrupt the space-time continuum.

Archive for the ‘Food: Cooking, Kitchen Triumphs and Dismal Disasters’ Category

4 Reasons To Like Ham … and a good recipe

Reason number 1. Ham can serve as a practical solution to life’s problems

There are times in life when an unforeseen need arises where ham can actually step in to save the day.

Reason number 2.  Moons Over My Hammy is fun to say

Anytime I go to Denny’s Restaurant, I order Moons Over My Hammy . . . even if I don’t want to eat it. I order it just so that I can say in public, “I’ll have Moons Over My Hammy.” But if I REALLY don’t want to eat it, I’ll add, “No. Wait. I changed my mind. I don’t want Moons Over My Hammy, after all. I’ll just have toast.” Then I’ll sit there and giggle inside.

Reason number 3. Pigs are humorous and ham comes from pigs

They roll around in mud, which is weirdly appealing but also oddly tempting. Plus, they simultaneously grunt as if to say, “OMG! This is by far the funnest fun I’ve ever had in my whole life! And after I eat that crap in that trough over there, I’m going to roll around in this mud all over again.” On top of that, if you’re lucky enough to see a piglet at play, it’s totally hilarious, especially those little mini pigs. They ride low to the ground and they bounce like they have little boingy springs in their feet.

Reason number 4. Ham can be used humorously to make a serious point

You know how when you’re talking with a friend about the many possible outcomes of any given situation and it’s filled with, What ifs? Like, “I could change gas stations, but what if my car blows up?” or “I could switch shampoos, but what if my hair catches fire?”  Or the ‘what if” question that’s top of mind, “What if I go to the john and am hit with an overwhelming craving for ham?”

Well, I once had a friend who would respond wisely to a pile-up of “What ifs” with … “Yeah, but … what if you had a baby and a ham fell on it?!”

Sobering, isn’t it?

Look, I like ham and I don’t even need 4 reasons to like it. Ham is fun,  it’s practical and it’s versatile. However, the REAL purpose of this post isn’t to convince you to like ham. It’s to share with you the most Fan-tab-ulous SOUP recipe on the entire planet that also (and serendipitously) has ham in it … ham and potatoes … and other practical stuff. It scored a WAY past perfect 10 on the Man/Food-O-Meter in my house and since it’s time to finish up with what’s left of the holiday ham left overs, I place it here for your consideration. If you try it, come back and tell me what you think with oinks and squeals!

You will need:

3 1/2 cups peeled and diced potatoes
1/3 cup diced celery
1/3 cup finely chopped onion
3/4 cup diced cooked (versatile and practical) ham
3 1/4 cups water
2 tablespoons chicken bouillon granules
1/2 teaspoon salt, or to taste
1 teaspoon ground white or black pepper, or to taste
5 tablespoons butter
5 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 cups milk

Combine the potatoes, celery, onion, ham and water in a stockpot. Bring to a boil, then cook over medium heat until potatoes are tender, about 10 to 15 minutes. Stir in the chicken bouillon, salt and pepper.

In a separate saucepan, melt butter over medium-low heat. Whisk in flour with a fork, and cook, stirring constantly until thick, about 1 minute. Slowly stir in milk as not to allow lumps to form until all of the milk has been added. Continue stirring over medium-low heat until thick, 4 to 5 minutes.

Stir the milk mixture into the stockpot, and cook soup until heated through. Serve immediately.

I’d love to lead you to believe that I came up with this delightful concoction all by myself but that would be wrong. The genius behind this recipe comes from “Ellie11” at Go Ellie11!


When Your Kid Is Sick

When your kid is sick … You make him pancakes…

In the shape of a toilet.

And then you add raisins.

To look like turds.

Because he feels badly.

And because YOU CARE DEEPLY.

And you want nothing more than for him to feel better.

Even at the cost of  your culinary dignity.

Cuz we’re moms … and THAT’s how we roll.

I’m a Wine Slob

I fell ass-over-tea kettle…

For wine (in general) some 10 years ago when I became acquainted with a bone fide wine snob. Up to that point, I’d not been much of a wine drinker. But my wine snob friend began introducing me to wondrous and new wines and over time, I came to appreciate the many nuances from one wine to the next. It’s easy to see how the colors and textures can become a gleeful playground for the adventurous palate.

The buzz doesn’t hurt a damned thing, either.

My wine snob friend was well versed in the ornamental language and grandiloquent descriptions used in the world of wine snobbery, complete with its endless intimidating phraseology. It was interesting (if not poetic) to listen as he waxed eloquent about the background of any given vineyard, the tannins, the processes and the grapes themselves, while swirling the divine liquid in his glass before that coveted first sip on a cleansed palate.

I’d sit in awe as he would swish the wine in his mouth, hold it and then gaze off into the middle-distance in deep contemplation.  He’d round the ritual out with the flowery description of the wine’s finish like an 18th century French poet.

THEN he’d proceed to get hammered with us schmucks.

I’m pretty sure there’s a wine snob buried somewhere deep inside me, if only I had the energy to lather it up. I completely enjoy the anticipation of a good pour. I love the tickling of the senses, the savor of the big moment and I often enjoy the after taste. No way in heck will I turn down a fine glass of wine stomped by cute little bare-footed peasant girls and I’ll appreciate it for every merit I can find. But in all honesty, if there’s a party on the throw and a karaoke machine in the corner, I don’t much care WHICH wine you pour in my empty glass, I’ll slug that bitch down faster than you can say Fat Bastard Cabernet Sauvignon … And THAT, my friend, is wine SLUT behavior.

It’s that mutt-mix that brings me to the conclusion that I must be a wine SLOB. For those of you who don’t take a big break between cocktail hours, that’s a combination of wine slut and wine snob. I could go with wine snut, but that’s just stoopid and besides, slob is fitting. I’m not willing to do the work to learn the lingo or the finer points of wine, and all I truly want when you get right down to it is that BUZZ. If I want outrageous flavor, I’ll make macaroni and cheese from scratch with Vintage White Cheddar, Chevre and Gruyère cheese. Now THAT is an after taste!

How about it? Are you a SNOB or just a slut like me or just gazing off in the middle distance somewhere?

Naughty, Cheesy… and What the Hell?

There is ONE thing on the planet that – if it were to disappear tomorrow, I’d be like …

What the hell …?!!?

If this one thing were gone, it would severely challenge the point of living. From whence would come the rhyme? The reason? The purpose for being? Oh yes! You know what I’m talking about!

It’s CHEESE, my friend. CHEESE.

For cheese to disappear from my world would mean I’d have to pack my smelly little suitcase, hop on the nearest Mother Ship and find a new planet. Hopefully, one made entirely out of cheese, where the inhabitants place cheese wheels atop their heads as an adornment and hang those little Laughing Cow Mini Babybel cheese pellets from their earlobes. That’d be neat. I’d like that. I’d be like, Whoa! You you look hot with that cheese wheel on your head, and they’d be like, Whoa! Have one of my wedgies to become a sexy cheese head like us! and I’d be like, Whoa! Sure! Thanks! and they’d be like, Whoa. Come join us for some Stromboli!

Which brings me to the point of this post: Stromboli.

(That’s probably THE DUMBEST segue you have ever read, but trust me, it will be a dumb little bridge worth crossing.)

This recipe for Stromboli is little more than lust and passion rolled up in bread dough and baked at 375 degrees. And Oh, CHEESE  …  How you-complete-me.

I first discovered this recipe when I was trolling around on getting off on the food porn. The original poster, Jude Mulvey, titled the dish 3 Meat Stromboli.

While the name is somewhat provocative and could possibly solicit an improper thought, for the sake  a more PG13 type of food naughtiness, I re-named the dish 3 CHEESE Stromboli. Maybe not as sexy to some, but a total turn-on to me.

3 Cheese Stromboli: Great for fattening up you skinny bitches reading this post.

Having made this dish like … one hundred million times … I am confident in declaring Jude utterly and entirely brilliant in all ways Stromboli. The dish is simple, easily manipulated (I could REALLY get naughty here but I’ll refrain) and out of the ball park DE-LISH. I love it so much, I may just roll around in it naked again next time I make it.

Here’s all the goodies you’ll need:

1 loaf frozen bread dough, thawed
1/4 pound thinly sliced salami, deli ham and pepperoni
1/4 pound thinly sliced provolone cheese
2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese
1/2 cup grated Romano or Parmesan cheese (For the love of cheese, do not use the power crap! Grate the real thing!)
1 tablespoon garlic powder
1 tablespoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon dried parsley flakes
1 teaspoon pepper
1 egg yolk, beaten

Here’s how you make it:

1. Let dough rise until doubled, according to package directions. Punch down. Roll each loaf into a 15-in. x 12-in. rectangle. Arrange a fourth of the salami, ham, pepperoni and provolone cheese over each rectangle. Sprinkle each with a fourth of the mozzarella cheese, Romano cheese, garlic powder, oregano, parsley and pepper.
2. Roll up each rectangle jelly-roll style, beginning with a long side. Seal seams and ends. Place seam side down on two greased baking sheets. Brush with egg yolk.
3. Bake at 375 degrees F for 25-30 minutes or until golden brown. Let stand for 5 minutes before slicing. Serve warm.

Just so you know, I’m fully aware that this is in no way on your skinny bitch diet. Screw that! Stromboli told me to tell you that it doesn’t give a happy rat’s ass how fat your ass gets. All it wants is your love and affection and a little food passion once in a while!