Best way to use up leftover mashed potatoes. Do this.

You have more than likely had all the turkey sandwiches you want by this time in the Thanksgiving weekend. (If not, go ‘head on. I am not the boss of you.)

Here, then are some ideas of what you can do with said turkey, and some of the other Thanksgiving leftovers, as well.

I’ll start out with non-turkey, since that’s the photo above. Anyone who’s read this blog very long knows of my love for the latke, and his first cousin, the potato pancake. My Mama used to make stewed potatoes, in a white sauce, regularly; I loved them, because I knew the next day or so would bring potato cakes. These are one of the highest and best uses of leftover mashed potatoes.

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Thanksgiving: The recipes

November 16, 2017

It occurred to me, after looking back at the annual pre-Thanksgiving post, that it would be a worthwhile endeavor if I were to post for you the canonical Thanksgiving dish recipes. Because, well, if you want to follow the canon, you need the instructions, yes?

I may, in fact, have posted these recipes previously (in the case of the cranberry salad and the rolls, I KNOW I have), but hey, repetition is not necessarily a bad thing, and besides, here they all are in one spot.

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Hey. How y’all?

October 11, 2017

sunday dinner 1008

I hit a weird filter and turned this sepia, or something. It tasted lots better than it looked.

I’ve been in the kitchen. Really, I have. I just haven’t been in the notion to sit down and write about it. And one of the luxuries of no longer being in the writing-for-a-living business is that if I don’t feel like sitting down and putting words together in a row, I don’t have to.

Unless, of course, I figure out some way to make a living off this blog, which I don’t expect to take place.

The flip side of not being around for several days is that I now have several posts I can write, seeing that the Muse seems to be present tonight (it’s astounding what a good Bloody Mary can do for you). I shall try to pound out several of them, and store them and dole them out to my faithful readers (I DO love y’all, I promise, I do) the next time I hit a dry spell.

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Hey! The stove still works!

February 11, 2017

A pefectly acceptable dinner, for the first attempt in a couple of weeks.

A pefectly acceptable dinner, for the first attempt in a couple of weeks.

The above is the first meal I’ve cooked in what I believe to be about a week and a half. Maybe two weeks.

I don’t know that it was necessarily worth the wait, but it was a decent dinner to clean things out of the refrigerator that needed to be cleaned, in the wake of the other night’s shelf disaster. (As an aside, and an update to the shelf disaster, I am somewhat distraught that a replacement shelf will cost me about $75 to order from Kenmore and get it shipped here. I will likely wind up doing that, unless I luck up and find a cheaper one somewhere. Freakin’ highway robbery. But it’s been a good refrigerator for 10-ish years, so I shouldn’t complain.)

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Kickin’ it old school

January 10, 2017

Old school sho' nuff dinner, right here.

Old school sho’ nuff dinner, right here.

Because sometimes, you just want a throwback dinner.

And when you’re feeling throwback, there ain’t much more throwback than meat loaf, mashed potatoes and green peas.

Which is exactly what we had. Because, throwback.

I made my standard meatloaf, which involves a pound of ground beef, a panade of some bread crumbs or cracker crumbs with milk, some onion powder, garlic powder, seasoned salt, and an egg. Patted it out in a pie plate; I like a thin meat loaf, with more area of crispy outside to tender inside, because I like it that way.  Coated it down with ketchup, and into the oven it went.

Mashed potatoes were, well, mashed potatoes. With a little butter, a little sour cream, a little half and half. Mashed with the whisk attachment to my new immersion blender, which I dearly love, because you can take the little attachments off and throw them in the dishwasher, and that’s just a fine thing.

And the peas were peas. Steam ’em in the bag; dump ’em in a bowl, add butter. Eat.

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Sunday dinner

November 6, 2016

Today's dinner menu: Essence of South. And no, I don't put gravy ON my CF steak. Just the potatoes.

Today’s dinner menu: Essence of South. And no, I don’t put gravy ON my CF steak. Just the potatoes.

It’s an odd thing.

I can, on a whim, cook Mexican, Asian, North African or any of a number of other regionally-inspired cuisines. (Maybe not WELL, but I have at least the makings on hand.) But when it comes to Sunday dinner, I’m coming back home.

Specifically, when it’s time for Sunday dinner, I’m going to cook where I came from: The American South. Now, in part, that’s because the Sunday dinner table list generally includes Child C and SIL 2, who have come to retrive AGC2, who hopefully is napping by the time they get here after church. And while Child C will try most anything, she’s more comfortable and happy with home cooking. And SIL 2 — well, bless his heart, his culinary tree doesn’t branch much.

So I stick to the tried-and-true stuff on Sunday. Today, I hit it out of the park.

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I’m here. I’ve even cooked.

I’ve also been in the middle of a fairly good-sized project with a short deadline, and I really should be working on it now, but I’ve had two glasses of wine and I could not testify to the quality of my work product.


It’s been a busy week. After the Best Roast Chicken Ever, I did not cook for a couple of nights, and then I excavated the Hawaiian Rib-eye marinated steaks from the freezer to grill because friend Kate had come up for a couple of days. I highly encourage you to click that link, make that marinade, and grill that steak. It’s damn good. There is an enzyme in pineapple juice that does wonders for tenderizing meat, and it worked a treat on this grass-fed ribeye, I am here to tell you.

I marinated it for 48 hours, decided I wasn’t going to cook it, drained the marinade off, bagged it, and stuck it in the freezer, where it reposed for a couple of weeks. I was afraid it would be mushy, but it wasn’t. These are some BIG rib-eyes, and two of them made all three of us were interested in eating.

No photos, because, well, I didn’t think of it, but we had coconut rice (recipe here), Asian cucumber salad (dressing of rice vinegar, sesame oil, mirin, sugar, ginger, soy sauce until it tastes right), and sweet potato fries. These are frozen sweet potato fries I cook in the oven, which I would have cooked in the CSO but for the fact it was busy cooking steaks, because the Godforsaken gas grill picked That Night to run out of gas. ¬†They are, I might add, addictive.

Steak was pretty much perfection. I learned that steam broil at 500F, 5 minutes on a side, will turn out a pretty much perfect steak, a nice little edge of done surrounding a big ol’ hot-pink middle. Cucumbers should have been peeled; the skins were a tad bitter. Rice was excellent.

The next night, as I had been in the middle of this project and had not taken time to plan or prep dinner, I fell back on easy and left-overs. We had chicken left from the roasted bird, frozen green peas, mashed potatoes and gravy.

For once, I aced the the gravy (which is forever my culinary weak point). I had saved the juices and fat that cooked out of the chicken, so I heated those and stirred in some flour, then thinned with some chicken broth and cooked until it was the right consistency. The mashed potatoes were basic mashed potatoes — peeled, cubed and boiled redskins, to which were applied generous portions of butter and cream and a workover with the potato masher. Peas, frozen, were the basic boil for two or three minutes, drain, toss with butter.

We ate until we were just about miserable. It just seemed to hit the spot.

I doubt I shall cook much of anything this weekend, as I will have a house full of grandchildren and will be too busy being KayKay to cook. They get either left-over chicken or chicken nuggets, though I may bestir myself to make overnight waffles for breakfast Sunday morning, and they’ll get grilled cheese for lunch Sunday. With lots of fruit. Must get fruit at farmers’ market!

You n’ y’mama ‘n ’em say a brief prayer for me as I head into a weekend with three young’uns aged kindergarten and below. We’ll see how much fun I can stand.