Dinner order placed
See food moving on a map
Hope it’s not too cold
Tag: Food
Junk Food
Bad for you. Very.
Too many carbs. Too much fat.
Tastes really good.
TexMex Mantras
Meditation is a very private thing – some people just use breathing, some people stare at various body parts, some chant.
If you chant, you generally chant a mantra. This can be a sacred text, a meaningless sound, or a phrase given to you by a guru (perhaps for a fee.)
If you grew up in Texas, you might realize that one religion is TexMex food and there are any number of mantras that can be generated using the basics of the cuisine.
One night, when I had lost track of my dogs (yet again!), I decided I needed something easier to remember for a chant. (For the record, the dogs are Bubba [RIP], Ripley [RIP], Sparky [RIP], Flower [RIP], Murphy [RIP], Max [RIP], Katie [RIP], Rocky.)
So, what is more important than pets? Enchiladas. Plus, there weren’t that many I could remember from experience. (I did Google it and there are many religious battles on enchiladas, mostly regional. I was worried about content.)
Here is the Enchilada mantra:
Beef
Cheese
Chicken
Spinach
It’s easy – you can picture them in your mind, so you have something to focus upon and you can get distracted by whether spinach should even count.
That kept me busy for a while, until my mind started wandering – mainly because chanting enchiladas is going to make me think of other TexMex classics.
At that point, I decided that the perfect TexMex mantra would be a combination platter just like in any good TexMex restaurant. I had to make a list, but after that, it’s easy – it’s like any combo platter, just choose three or four items and chant away.
Combo Platter Mantra Ingredients
- Burrito
- Chalupa
- Chimichanga
- Enchilada
- Taco
- Tamale
- (don’t forget the rice & beans)
Last night, my mantra detailed my dinner from the other evening –
Enchilada, Enchilada, Tamale, Taco, Rice and Beans
(It was a very tasty dinner.)
Of course, if you meditate in the morning before you start your day, then thinking about dinner may not make much sense – although it may help you focus. In that case, instead of the Combo Platter Mantra, may I suggest the Breakfast Taco Mantra?
Breakfast Taco Mantra Ingredients
- Bacon
- Bean
- Cheese
- Chorizo
- Egg
- Potato
- Sausage
For a Breakfast Tacos Mantra, just name the ones you order – bean & cheese, egg cheese & potato, chorizo and egg.
Start your meditation sessions with “Howdy!” and end with “Adios.”
OM, Y’all.
Sea Shanty Italiano
Sea shanties are always about the sea. This is, of course, unfair. There are plenty of worthy subjects for sea shanties, and plenty of other occupations (say, cooking or gossip) where having a way to keep a group in rhythm would be helpful.
To the tune of Drunken Sailor
What do you do with a Wife Italian?
What do you do with a Wife Italian?
What do you do with a Wife Italian,
Sometime late mid-morning?
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Oy vey, it needs more garlic,
Sometime late mid-morning!
Don’t wake her up or she might cut you!
Don’t wake her up or she might cut you!
Don’t wake her up or she might cut you,
Sometime late mid-morning!
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Oy vey, it needs more garlic,
Sometime late mid-morning!
Wake up the dogs, and let them wake her!
Wake up the dogs, and let them wake her!
Wake up the dogs, and let them wake her,
Sometime late mid-morning!
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Oy vey, it needs more garlic,
Sometime late mid-morning?
Quiet in the house, let’s watch her stories!
Quiet in the house, let’s watch her stories!
Quiet in the house, let’s watch her stories,
Sometime late mid-morning?
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Oy vey, it needs more garlic,
Sometime late mid-morning!
Time for the news, let’s call her sisters!
Time for the news, let’s call her sisters!
Time for the news, let’s call her sisters,
Sometime late mid-morning!
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Oy vey, it needs more garlic,
Sometime late mid-morning!
Read another book by Nora Roberts!
Read another book by Nora Roberts!
Read another book by Nora Roberts,
Sometime late mid-morning!
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Oy vey, it needs more garlic,
Sometime late mid-morning!
Visit Amazon, and buy her trinkets!
Visit Amazon, and buy her trinkets!
Visit Amazon, and buy her trinkets,
Sometime late mid-morning!
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Oy vey, it needs more garlic,
Sometime late mid-morning!
Feed her an Eggplant Parmigiana!
Feed her an Eggplant Parmigiana!
Feed her an Eggplant Parmigiana,
Sometime late mid-morning!
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Oy vey, it needs more garlic,
Sometime late mid-morning!
Douse her with water and watch her melting!
Douse her with water and watch her melting!
Douse her with water and watch her melting,
Sometime late mid-morning!
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Oy vey, it needs more garlic,
Sometime late mid-morning!
What do you do with a Wife Italian?
What do you do with a Wife Italian?
What do you do with a Wife Italian,
Sometime late mid-morning?
Dinnertime
Katie is a lovely dog
She knows that she is mine.
She only has one tiny fault.
She cannot tell the time.
Katie knows that dinner time
Is every night at seven.
So, she starts her dinner whine
At six-ten or six-eleven.
Sometimes, this will work.
I will feed them early.
Katie learned that dinner time
Arrives some nights prematurely.
Katie knows that dinner time
Is every night at six-fifteen
So, she starts her dinner whine
At five-thirty, six or in-between.
Once the whining has commenced,
She never tends to drop it.
Only puppy food in quantity
Seems to make her stop it.
Katie knows that dinner time
Is sometime after four.
So, she starts her dinner whine
Sometime the day before.
The one part of my dear Kate
That never needs explaining.
She only has two speeds in life,
Sound asleep and loud complaining.
How much is it worth?
Katie’s Lament
Our dogs are starving. Apparently, two large meals a day plus snacks is not enough.
I don’t want to appear bitchy,
I fear I seem to be quite rude.
It’s just that I’m here starving,
And Mom won’t share her food.
Mom is a diabetic,
She’s very careful what she eats,
So, I just help her control portions,
By consuming any vegetables or meats.
(Especially meats.)
She screams that she’s not sharing.
“This food is just for me!”
Hey, calm your britches, lady.
Try some vodka in your tea.
Mom gave me some dog biscuits,
It’s the only snack I’ve had.
I hate to sound ungrateful,
But I can get those things from Dad.
(Cough up the meat, lady.)
I’ll need a wee distraction,
Perhaps a knock upon the door.
Then, I slightly bump the table,
And the pepperoni’s on the floor.
I’ve never seen her face that color.
It’s not like I ate it all.
I just saved you some carbohydrates,
And the rest is down the hall.
(If you can find it.)
I finally filled my belly,
I think I’ll take a nap.
But first, I’m going outside,
So I can take a … walk.
(Mmmm.. Pepperoni.)
Bad Diagnosis
Twin Diagnoses
My Doctor said “Your weight’s too high!”
He said, “Less food – more exercise!”
I said, “So, that’s it, I’m going to die.”
Has any Italian ever written a complete recipe?
When reading a recipe requires reading between the lines.
There’s a story one of my nieces tells about her Grandmother (aka my late Mom-in-law who defeated the Instant Pot from the Great Beyond earlier this week.) She was making Grandma’s Baked Beans, and followed the recipe but they didn’t taste right. She called Grandma for advice, and they walked through the recipe over the phone. After the list of ingredients, Grandma asked, “What about the mustard?” My niece said, “What mustard?” It wasn’t in the recipe, it was “implied.” Actually, everyone else knew it was in there, because everyone else in the family that made baked beans had learned by watching, not reading.
Now, I’m sure people are tired of hearing about my magical Instant Pot, but I made pot roast tonight. There were actually some free Instant Pot cookbooks for my Nook, so I just took the first recipe that I found, because it was short.
First thing, I scanned through the recipe to make sure we had all the ingredients (we did, for once) and that I could execute successfully while recovering from a stressful day (seemed possible.)
So, I began.
First, assemble all the ingredients. (I’m probably not experienced enough to say mise en place yet.) Once everything was assembled, I started browning the roast. The recipe said two tablespoons of olive oil. I begin wondering about the author. That’s not enough to cover the bottom of the pot, and everybody knows you need at least that much. So, I eyeballed it. (If I ever write a cookbook, I’m going to use “Chuck Roast” as my nom de plume.) (Two French phrases in one paragraph? Really?)
After the meat was browned, the recipe said to take it out and sauté the onions. Then, add the tomato paste and mushrooms, and continue stirring. Done.
Add the broth, put the roast back in, seal it, bring it up to pressure, cook for an hour. Second existential crisis. You can’t pressure cook on sauté mode. When was I supposed to have turned it off?
I was in the middle of that step and the existential crisis when I noticed the potatoes, sitting lonely and abandoned on the counter. Hmm. Those must go in the pot eventually. Did I miss a step?
So, I re-read the recipe to that point. No potatoes, except in the ingredients. I read through the rest of the recipe. The last step was to “serve the gravy with the meat and potatoes.” Raw potatoes?
This was my “What mustard?” moment. (Jen, I now feel your pain.)
How was that step left out? Who wrote this? Why, look. The author is from Tuscany. This recipe is probably just copied from his Nana’s notebook.
I threw the potatoes in with the meat, after consulting with the wife, since we don’t like raw potatoes. Crisis averted, but I’m worried about the quality of the recipe and it’s almost ten dollars of meat, and the good delivery restaurants are closing. I hope the rest of this was right.
This was the longest pressure cook I’ve done to date. An hour at pressure, followed by a natural release (which took another 20+ minutes, then a fifteen minute rest with the lid off. (Natural release followed by a rest sounds kinda dirty, now that I think about it.)
Hmm. What was that about pressure cookers and time savings?
(Since I never made most of these things in a pressure-free environment, I’m really not sure if an hour and a half is good or bad.)
Come to think of it, I’ve often had the wife or dogs (or both) waiting on whatever I’m cooking, and they’re usually staring (or growling) at me, so I’ve always cooked under pressure. It’s just now I use a pressure cooker.
Gravy time. Add the water and flour (water? Wait. What water? How much water?) to the pot (Do you take the meat out first? What about the potatoes? Were they really supposed to be in there? Am I really mixing gravy around a three-pound roast?)
I asked the Spousal Unit for advice. She said “it must mean a slurry.” Shouldn’t it say a slurry, then? I’m assuming that’s what she learned from watching her Mom, not read.
Finally, I just pretended my Mom-in-law wrote the recipe and added some mustard.
Actually, I just fished the meat and potatoes out (fishing meat?), and made a basic gravy. It was decent, but it would have been better if I had cooked the flour first(or just used cornstarch.) I suppose that was implied, as well. Thanks, author’s Nana.
I need a new cookbook.
Mom-in-law 1, Instant Pot 0
Don’t make sauce quickly. Just don’t.
My mother-in-law defeated my Instant Pot from the Great Beyond last night. She’s been gone almost ten years, but I’ve always been pretty sure she’s still watching us, and now I have proof.
My wife still has her right arm immobilized, so I’m still the chef of the house. Yesterday afternoon, the patient requested chili, so I got some ground beef from the freezer, and a couple hours later, when I started assembling ingredients, I discovered that was pretty much the only chili ingredient I had. Oops.
Plan B was goulash, but we were also missing ingredients for that.
My goal while I’m running the kitchen is to prove people can eat before 8pm and survive, so this was not looking good.
Finally, my wife said, “Make sauce.”
This is where my Mom-in-law comes in.
“Sauce” when I was growing up came in a jar, and it was called spaghetti sauce. My in-laws are New York Italians and sauce is a not in a jar. It is in a number of cans and cloves and shakers that have their contents combined in a large stockpot. It takes all day to make. All damn day. Also, it’s not “spaghetti sauce” because it’s not just for spaghetti – you use the same sauce for all kinds of pasta, on entrees, on bread for a snack, as a substitute for plasma in blood transfusions…
As an aside, for some people from the frozen North, sauce is called “gravy.” I grew up in Texas, where there is cream gravy for chicken-fried steak, enchilada gravy for enchiladas and brown gravy for everything else.
My mom-in-law lived with us for six years before she passed away, and the most upset she ever got was when Rachael Ray made sauce as part of a thirty-minute meal, adding beef stock to get that “all-day flavor”. She was more upset about half-hour sauce than she was the day one of the dogs peed on her walker. Twice. Pee? Slightly Annoyed. Sauce in a half-hour? Ballistic.
So, making sauce “quickly” put me on shaky ground, but I figured, I’m Irish, she should expect me not to know better, and it’s not like she’s haunting us or anything.
For the record, my mom-in-law’s sauce must cook for at least four hours, or it tastes “raw.” To me, sauce tastes like tomato and uncooked sauce also tastes like tomato, but I learned early on to not argue with her about cooking.
So, I was going to make sauce quickly (which is different than “quick sauce”), and my Instant Pot had never let me down in the two times I had used it. Plus, I was cooking for an invalid.
So, first step, brown the garlic. Then, brown the ground beef. Add the tomato sauce, crushed tomatoes, tomato paste. Stir it all up. Seal the pot.
Wait for the pot to come up to pressure, wait a half-hour, make some pasta, dinner is served.
“Beep!”
I had never heard a “beep” that just sounded unhappy.
The display said, “Burn.”
This is apparently a well-known issue, “the infamous Burn message.”
It means something is sticking to the bottom of the inner pot. (Thanks, Google.)
So, I opened the pot, stirred everything around, resealed and started again.
“Beep.” Burn.
Uh, Google?
So, something may be stuck. Check. There may not be enough “thin” liquid in the pot. Don’t stir in “heavy” liquids (like tomato paste.) Oops.
This was also when my wife mentioned she usually adds a can of water (28oz!) to her sauce. Hmm.. Water would be a very thin liquid. That would have been a helpful reminder a half-hour ago.
Let’s try this again. Scrape the bottom, add the water (note how close we are to the Maximum Fill line), stir all the heavy stuff to the top (consider that logic), seal and pray.
“Beep.” Burn.
I really should have learned to say, “Dammit” in Italian.
I admitted defeat. I moved all the raw sauce into a stockpot on the stove. Four hours later (after we had BBQ delivered), dinner was ready. For tomorrow.
So, “Burn” is apparently just short for “You will burn in Hell for trying to make sauce quickly.”
I miss my mom-in-law. I might have had a bruise today, but she would have stopped the madness much sooner.