July 30, 2015
This. Sweet Baby Jesus, make this while you have fresh corn and tomatoes. You can thank me later. And you will.
Having been a combination of sick and out of pocket, I got up t’other morning and discovered I had tomatoes that needed to be used. ASAP. I recalled a tomato pie I’d made a few years ago, looked at a few recipes, hearkened to the corn that was in my kitchen and really needed to be worked up because it’s past its prime, and my little brain cells commenced to work.
“Self?” I said. “You love Mexican street corn. You reckon you could combine that with tomatoes in a pie crust, put the regular topping on it like a tomato pie, and see how that goes?”
July 29, 2015
Hot as in I have not been in the kitchen (not to mention I have been working like a madwoman, in between dealing with Amazing Grandchildren and one of their birthdays.
Note, starfish, above. Birthday party was a “beach blast,” albeit the beach was their back yard, filled with water toys, which quickly turned the back yard into a quagmire, which the guests did not mind At All. And the parents and grandparents, well, we just kept the hose handy to wash them off before they headed inside or back to their own homes.
July 21, 2015
I have mastered, I tell you, mastered the chicken fried steak.
Those of you who frequent “home cooking” establishments and diners in the South and Midwest are doubtless familiar with chicken fried steak. It’s a piece of tenderized round steak, breaded and fried crisp, and served under a blanket of cream gravy.
Wherein we attempt to recreate the post that was up, briefly, yesterday, until it wasn’t. And for the life of me, I cannot determine where it has gone.
I know it was there, because the automatic FB and Twitter post/tweet that goes out when it publishes showed up on my timeline. And thus I have, at least, the start of the post:
It’s hotter than the hinges of hell, I’ve been gone a lot, and when I’ve been here, I haven’t been cooking.
Well, I did cook, some, when I was co-babysitting Amazing Grandchildren 1 and 3 last week in Nashville. Like the peach ricotta pound cake, above, recipe here, which was something of an adventure, as it entailed cooking in Child B’s kitchen, which is somewhat less than well-equipped.
And I got nothin’ else. So, perhaps, we can recreate it. Or not. Or at least get close to the sense of it.
July 18, 2015
And I repeat: it’s been hotter than the hinges of hell.
I’m not sure why the hinges of hell are hotter than any of the rest of it, and in fact not sure they ARE, but I’ve always heard it that way. In any event, it has been too hot to cook much, and really, too hot to eat much.
So one turns to salads and cool drinks.
I’ve eaten my share of capreses this summer — hard to beat ’em! And fruit salads, and a wild rice salad that I like a lot. And of course, there’s always the old faithful fattoush, or at least my version of it, which is sort of like a Greek salad without the romaine.
July 4, 2015
If you’re one of those who has to resort to steathily leaving bags of zucchini on neighbors’ porches because the only way your zucchini knows how to produce is like it’s on speed and steroids simultaneously, here’s a way to use up some of it.
I did this last night on a whim to go with our Fourth of July dinner (on the third), and to use up the last of the fresh corn before I restocked today at the Farmers’ Market. It would have gone nicely on the grill had I been grilling the pork loin to go along with it, but weather pre-empted that.
July 2, 2015
I love me a pork chop. Fry him, bake him, grill him, cut him up in strips and stir-fry him, braise him in a casserole, I don’t much care; I love ’em. I could, truth be told, give up beef before I gave up pork. Eternally grateful God didn’t see fit to deposit me with a Muslim or Orthodox Jewish family.
So I was having veggies the other night, and nothing much goes better with summer veggies than a pork chop. And I had seen a post about pork tenderloin cutlets, the ones that are cut thin, pounded thinner, then coated in crumbs and fried quickly. And that sounded good.