Oh what to do with leftover rotisserie chicken and the end of a loaf of French bread? Make a sandwich! Smear some Caesar dressing on a couple slices of bread, add some spring mix salad greens and some shredded, cooked chicken breast and voila! A break from good ol’ ham and cheese or PBJ!
Normally, I am not a fan of white chocolate, but when my friend Lela brought over this sweet, holiday Chex mix a couple of Christmases ago, I found snacking bliss. The recipe makes a ton, so I usually cut it in half. If you have a big enough bowl, make up the whole lot, and you’ll have enough for yourself and to share with friends and neighbors.
White Christmas Mix
3 c. corn chex
3 c. rice chex
3 c. honey nut cheerios
2 c. small pretzels
2 c. salted peanuts
1 (12 oz) bag red and green M&Ms
1 (12 oz) bag red and green peanut M&Ms
2 (12 oz) bags white chocolate chips
Toss all ingredients except white chocolate chips together in a large bowl. In another bowl, melt white chocolate chips, stirring until smooth and it pours freely. (I nuke the chips in the microwave, stirring every thirty seconds or so, until I get the right melty-consistency.) Pour melted white chocolate over the other ingredients and stir to coat. Spread mixture on a wax paper-lined cookie sheet and let cool. When it hardens, break mixture into pieces and enjoy.
My hubby has a nasty cold. Usually, when someone is under the weather around here, I make chicken soup with rice. It’s our standard “sickie food” designed to comfort and hydrate. But, I’m pregnant and the thought of making chicken tonight filled me with the kind of dread that really shouldn’t be described in detail in a food blog.
My solution? Vegetable beef soup. Heavy on the beef.
Since we have about two pounds of London Broil left over from the night before, I decided to use that. I made up the recipe as I went along—so the measurements listed are estimated. Turned out great (in my opinion)—and if you’re comfortable enough to experiment in the kitchen, you could have a lot of fun with this.
Veggie, Beef, and Barley Soup
1 small onion, chopped
1 T. oil
6 c. beef broth (or 6 c. water plus 6 beef bouillon cubes)
1 t. salt
8 oz. cooked beef, chopped or cut into bite sized pieces
8 oz. frozen California style veggies
1 potato cut into bite sized pieces
1/2 c. dry barley
1 bay leaf
Saute onion in oil until golden, in large saucepan or soup pot. Add broth, salt, beef, bay leaf, and barley. Bring to a boil. Turn down heat, cover, and simmer thirty minutes. Add frozen veggies and potato pieces. Cover again and simmer another 10 to 15 minutes. Remove bay leaf and serve. Makes six-ish one cup servings.
I have a love/hate relationship with brownies. I’m pretty picky about how I like them. I usually don’t eat other people’s brownies. I know. Brownie snob—it’s a texture thing, sorry. My mom has a recipe for brownies that she loves and has used for years. I wanted to like it but her brownies always give me heartburn. (I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that I eat four or five at a time.)
Her recipe also calls for baker’s chocolate, you know, the kind that comes in those bricks—well, I never have that on hand, so I needed a recipe that used either chocolate chips or unsweetened cocoa powder (because I always have those on hand.)
Here’s my current favorite recipe—which makes a batch of brownie goodness that isn’t too fudgy or too cakey in texture. Also, it’s quick to put together (my eight year old just made these today) and it’s easily doubled or quadrupled or…well, we’ll stop there.
Brownies
1/2 c. butter, melted
1/2 c. unsweetened cocoa
1 c. sugar
2 eggs
2 t. vanilla (I only use 1 t. because I think 2 t. is overpowering.)
1/2 c. flour
1/4 t. salt
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease an 8 or 9 inch square pan. In a medium bowl, combine melted butter, cocoa, sugar, and eggs. Blend with electric mixer until sugar isn’t grainy and the mixture looks like thick frosting. Mix in vanilla and salt. Stir in flour.
Optional: add a handful of chocolate chips, flaked coconut, chopped nuts, or whatever else sounds tempting, and mix into the batter.
Pour and spread batter in greased pan. Bake for 25 minutes or until a toothpick (or tip of a butter knife) comes out clean. Cool completely, cut into squares, or hexagons, or whatever and serve. If you like fudgier brownies, under-bake by a couple of minutes. If doubling the recipe, you may need to add up to five minutes more to baking time.
Tonight I made my first London Broil. It was a monster hunk of meat—three and half pounds. Usually I go out to a restaurant for a big hunk of beef, because I have not been successful fixing my own steaks and pot roasts and the like. But, I couldn’t pass up the chunk of meaty goodness at the grocery store. It was “price reduced for quick sale”—I bought it on the “sell by” date, and it took up space in my fridge for a day or two before I was brave enough to cook it. I had a recipe, but it didn’t give me any specifics as far as how long to cook the meat. And the recipe said to grill it. Well, seeing as it’s December and there’s a foot of snow on the ground, a backyard barbecue didn’t sound that fun.
So I did what any self respecting cook with a big slab of raw animal flesh would do. I googled. I found a great marinade recipe AND a website that tells you how to actually broil a London Broil. We like our meat on the bloody side, but I was a little leery of cooking at home—what if I didn’t get the right internal temperature? What if we contracted mad cow disease? What if I overcooked it and it came out like shoe leather?
I worried for nothing. It turned out great. And we have enough leftovers for Philly Cheese Steak sandwiches tomorrow! Hooray!
London Broil Marinade:
1/2 c. sesame oil
1/2 c. canola oil
1 c. soy sauce
2 T. molasses
1 head garlic, peeled and chopped (I used half a head)
1 (3 lb.) london broil beef (about 1 1/2 inches thick)
Place first five ingredients in a gallon size freezer bag. Diagonally score the meat (I did a diamond pattern because I was feeling fancy.) Place meat in bag of marinade and refrigerate 2 to 8 hours, turning the bag occasionally.
Remove marinated meat from bag and place on broiler pan. Broil in oven 3 to 4 inches away from heat source for 8 to 10 minutes. Remove pan from the oven and turn meat over. Return to broiler for 8 to 10 minutes. Remove pan again, turn meat over again so the scored side faces up. Broil again for another couple of minutes. (This procedure gave us medium rare doneness—so add a little more time on both sides if you like your meat less pink.) Remove from oven and let meat rest for 10 minutes before slicing. Cut into 1/4 inch thick slices and serve.
This post is more a reminder/organizational memo for myself than anything else. I was standing in my pantry the other day, frustrated that I didn’t have “anything” to fix for dinner. The feeling was idiotic and ironic, because my pantry is stuffed—overloaded—with food. Canned goods galore, syrups, condiments, spices, oils, grains, and beans. There’s chips and cookies, and baking supplies. And yet, I couldn’t think of a way to use any of it to make a meal. When a good chunk of the world goes hungry every night, my home is full of food and I don’t know what to do with it. Pathetic. Embarrassing.
I need to take stock. And then I need to get a bit creative, broaden my definition of what makes a good meal, and thank God for giving me so much.
Fortunately, later in that same day, as I was idling away some time, I found a recipe in a magazine that inspired me. (After I’d ordered pizza.) It required two cans of garbanzo beans. I don’t have canned garbanzo beans, but I had about a pound of dried ones. I think they’ve been in the pantry for well over a year. I don’t remember buying them, but I must have, because they were stored in a quart jar with my handwriting on the lid, saying “dried chickpeas.”
So, as I write this morning, I am quick-soaking the beans, so I can cook them up and make up this recipe. I’ll post about the recipe itself, later. Right now, I’m going to inventory the things in my pantry. I have:
15 lb. brown rice
4 lb. brown sugar
1 #10 can each: dried celery, powdered egg, dehydrated onion, freeze dried strawberries, dried carrots, quick oats, regular oats, white flour, sugar, high gluten flour, baking soda, salt (oh, wait, I have two cans of salt), dried apple slices, raisins, dehydrated potato slice, potato pearls, Marshmallow Mateys, refried beans, black beans, pinto beans, kidney beans
2 qt. dried black eyed peas
2 lbs. dried split peas
4 cans tuna
7 qts. canned salmon (canned for me by the amazing Merrill Dougal)
2 cans clams
10 pints beef chunks
3 pints beef broth
three rubbermaid containers the size of mailboxes full of various herbs and spices
1 little jar baking powder
2 bottles vanilla
1 five gallon bucket whole white wheat
1 five gallon bucket (almost gone) white rice
25 lb. bag rolled oats
5 lb. bag flour
1 five gallon bucket (nearly empty) sugar
4 lb. powdered sugar
odds and ends bags of corn chips
2 jars peanut butter (one creamy, one chunky)
1 jar strawberry jam
12 qt. canned peaches
12 qt. canned beets
half pint of tomato relish
A big “thing” of chicken bouillon cubes
half a box of chocolate cheerios
2/3 box of some high fiber cereal my husband eats
6 oz. bag of white chocolate chips
1 jar molasses (3/4 full)
1 bottle (unopened) ketchup
2 or 3 cans each: golden corn, green beans, beets
1 large bottle olive oil
1 large bottle canola oil
1 gallon white vinegar
1 bottle balsamic vinegar
That’s just what I remember off the top of my head—I’m sure some of the amounts are off, but still—I look at that list and think—how can I not find a way to make a decent meal out of some of that?
What you see before you is the American approximation of a typical Guatemalan breakfast—eggs, black beans, toast, and juice. Eggs are usually scrambled, the black beans can take several forms—here they are refried and served with sour cream. In Guatemala, beans and eggs are often served with a dry, crumbly cheese that reminds me a little of the parmesan cheese you buy in a container to shake on pizza.
This is a humble meal and the daily breakfast fare for many people in Guatemala. I asked my husband once (a born and bred Guatemalan) if he ever got tired of eating the same thing every day. He said he didn’t know any different so he never thought about it. At the time I thought it was weird and a little sad to eat the same thing day after day—but then I took a look at my kids, who are perfectly content to have a bowl of instant oatmeal every day. There are other options, but they are creatures of habit and content with what they have. I don’t know much about other breakfast options in Guatemala or if there really are any, but if the food is good, cheap, filling, and satisfying—does it matter?
My brother Preston was by far the one most “into” the Christmas season when we were growing up. He was the designated tree-setter-upper/decorator and rooftop light stringer. When he was about ten years old, he got a huge Christmas coloring book from the dollar store. The thing was as thick as a phone book and included all kinds of activities and recipes. One of the recipes was for gingerbread men and Preston took it upon himself to give the recipe a go. It was a hit. He would make these up in an afternoon and soon the entire family was begging him to make another batch. And another. And another. And...well, you get the idea.
Before I discovered my brother’s cookie creations, I was leery of gingerbread, it seemed too temperamental (think crumbling, earthquake-aftermath-esque candy covered houses), too tooth-breakingly crisp, and too spicy and gross (It’s not called Nutmegbread, people! Ew!). Preston’s dollar store coloring book recipe is perfect—the spices are mellow and the dough rolls and cuts out beautifully.
With an electric mixer on low speed, beat sugar, shortening, molasses, and water in a large bowl until blended. Beat on medium speed for one minute. Stir in remaining ingredients.
Cover and refrigerate dough until chilled (about 1 to 2 hours). Heat oven to 375 degrees. On a lightly floured surface, roll out dough to 1/4 inch thick. Cut dough with cookie cutters and lift cookies carefully with a large spatula onto an ungreased cookie sheet. (I like to use parchment paper, to make clean up easier and to avoid possible cookie breakage.)
Bake 8 to 10 minutes. Let cookies cool on pan for three or four minutes before removing to a paper towel or cookie rack. Cool completely and decorate with frosting or royal icing.
I have this friend that I consider something of a foodie. She likes home-made food and works valiantly to avoid using processed foods in her cooking. I love this friend. And, despite the fact that I like blue frosting that comes in a can, she loves me, too. Anyway, one day, I invited this friend and her kids over for lunch. I wanted the lunch to be special, a little more grown up than the standard PBJ or pizza thing we did when the kids were involved. But what? I wanted something savory, but light, substantial but not heavy. Now, this friend would have been fine with whatever the heck I came up with, because she’s laid back like that, but I wanted to do something great. Special. Something worthy of this friend’s palate. Something awesome.
And…I was at a loss. I couldn’t think of anything to make. With only a couple of hours before my friend was to arrive, I had nada.
Luckily for me, I ended up on the phone with another friend, who sadly, lives too far away for her own play date, but who is also something of a foodie, and deserves her own post for not only her culinary talents, but her other merits as well. I digress…so, I was telling her about my dilemma and before I could get really melodramatic, she gave me the answer. A salad so good, so tantalizing, so perfect, I could have smooched her. In fact, I think I actually made kissy noises on the phone as we said good bye. Anyway…
My play date friend was delighted with the salad (so was my hubby, who happened to be home for lunch that day. Oh, and the kids opted for grilled cheese sandwiches, which was fine with me—more yummy salad for the grown ups!) and I owe mucho gratitude to Miss Mariam for giving me such an awesome recipe.
I don’t currently have photos of this salad, but as soon as I make this again (soon, my pretties, very soon) I’ll take some, and post them for your viewing delight. Now, onto:
Mariam’s Salad
1 container spring mix salad greensMix greens, tomatoes, and onions, scatter black olives, pine nuts, and cheese to taste. Sprinkle with oil and vinegar, sea salt, and pepper, to taste. Add chicken chunks and toss gently. Serve with a light soup or crusty bread.
I don’t know where my mom got this incredible roll recipe, but it’s my favorite. Not only does it turn out these lovely, delicious rolls, it’s the only yeast bread recipe I have never screwed up. Well, okay, I screwed it up once, but that’s only because I was too busy refereeing a squabbling match between a couple of my kids and wasn’t paying enough attention to the cooking. So, it doesn’t count.
Mom’s Make Ahead Rolls
Heat together: 2 c. milk, 1/2 c. shortening, 2 t. salt, 1/2 sugar until shortening is melted. You can do this in a sauce pan or be lazy like me and just nuke it in a big bowl.
Add: 2 beaten eggs
Dissolve 2 T. yeast in 1/4 c. water and add to the egg mixture.
Beat in 6 c. flour, one at a time (it’s important to add the flour a little at a time, because if you add it all at once, the dough won’t mix up correctly—and you may find you don’t need the entire 6 cups of flour, so be sure you follow the directions here.)
The dough should be soft and a little tacky, but not overly sticky. Let the dough raise for one hour or until it’s doubled in size. I do this right in the bowl I mixed it together in.
Punch dough down and divide into thirds. Roll the thirds into circles and cut 8 to 12 wedges like you’d cut a pie. Roll each wedge from the broad side to the point. Brush with butter and place points down on a greased cookie sheet. Let rolls raise again until doubled in size and bake at 400 degrees for ten minutes.
These also freeze well in the dough stage for later use. To freeze, place cookie sheets with shaped, unbaked rolls in freezer. When frozen, remove them from the cookie sheet and store them in freezer bags. When you want to use them, place desired number of frozen rolls on a greased cookie sheet and let them thaw and rise until doubled in size. This takes anywhere from three to five hours if you just set them out. You can hasten the thawing/raising process by preheating your oven to 200 degrees, then shutting it off and placing a bowl of hot water on the bottom rack of the oven. Place the frozen rolls in the oven and let them raise until doubled in size (this will still take an hour or so.) Then bake as above.
Just to let you know, I have let this dough over-raise and then over raise again, and the rolls still turned out fine. Maybe they were a teeny weeny bit denser than if I’d not let the dough go so long, but the difference in texture was negligible and the taste was still divine. This is a very forgiving recipe.
Here we have one of the two pumpkin pies my friend Lela brought to our Thanksgiving dinner. Normally, I’m not a fan of pumpkin pies, they’re gritty, or slimy, the crust is soggy, or they are otherwise just not right. But, Lela’s pies provide a well cooked crust, smooth, creamy texture, and flavorful, non-slimy filling.
Lela was gracious enough to provide her recipe, which makes two nine inch pies—if that’s more than you can handle, the recipe is easily halved. Enjoy!
In a large bowl, beat the eggs well, add sugar & spices. Stir well. Add pumpkin and evaporated milk. Stir well using a whisk. Put in 2 unbaked pie shells. Bake at 400 degrees for 15 minutes, then at 350 for 40 minutes. Test for doneness by using a sharp knife to stab a small slit in the middle of your pies. The knife should come out perfectly clean.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~NOTE: Lela says she uses pyrex pie plates, and it’s worth the investment to use pie crust shields to prevent the edges of the crust from burning.
Due to a freak blizzard that closed the freeway, my family and I were unable to make the five hour trek to my mother’s house for Turkey Day. Whether we liked it or not, we were staying local. This would have been fine, except that I had made no back up plans. No turkey, no ingredients for pie (no pie!), no cans of cranberry sauce. And I wasn’t keen on cooking a big feast. I considered calling a couple of friends to see if we could crash their Thanksgiving dinners, “Hey, wanna feed six extra people tomorrow?”, but decided that probably wasn’t a very nice thing to do. I considered putting in a pork loin roast and using potato pearls and having a slightly unorthodox dinner, but you know, I really wanted to go traditional. So, it looked like I was going to have to some cooking anyway.
Fortunately, our end of the world wasn’t quite as bad off as our entire freeway route, so I was able to drive an icy three blocks to the grocery store. If there’s anything I’m thankful for this year, it’s internet weather updates and the fact that I’m so close to a major chain market. After gathering supplies, I came home to prepare the feast—you know, get as much done ahead of time, so I don’t have to be all frantic and stressed out on THE DAY.
I called my friend, Lela for her pumpkin pie recipe and ended up inviting her and her hubby, Merrill, over for Thanksgiving. I did this in hopes that she would make the pie for me, because I CAN cook a turkey, but pumpkin pies freak me out. I know, that’s totally backwards of the traditional anxiety over cooking a holiday meal, but there you are. She agreed, and I didn’t even have to whine or beg or give her my much practiced puppy-eyed look. (Would have been hard to do on the phone, anyway.)
Here’s what was on the menu:
Two Hour Turkey from www.melskitchencafe.com (another thing I’m thankful for—fresh turkeys that don’t require 4 days to defrost!)
Mom’s make ahead rolls (the one, the only, yeast bread recipe that I have ever NOT screwed up.)
canned green beans (yes. Canned. Served plain. No casserole here. I like them in their tinny flavored, unaltered state.)
store brand stuffing mix (I was feeling cheap and didn’t spring for Stove Top—which was a mistake. Stove Top is way, way better—and don’t sneer at me for not making stuffing from scratch. Ew. The Stove Top people have created perfection. Don’t mess with it.)
Green Jell-o (per my eight year olds’ request)
mashed potatoes and gravy
whole berry cranberry sauce (thank you, Ocean Spray!)
Lela’s pumpkin pie
Merrill’s chocolates (Merrill is what I like to call a “chocolatier”, but he just refers to himself as a “candy maker”. His dad owned a candy store, once upon a time, and Merrill learned to hand-dip his own candies, and he even makes the fondants and centers from scratch. I could write a whole post on just Merrill and his amazing, gourmet creations, and I will, just not right now. But I really will post about him. And you will drool. Excessively.)
The meal turned out great. Sure, with the exception of Merrill’s candies, none of it was what you could call “gourmet”, but whatever. The turkey, roll, and pumpkin pie recipes are awesome and I will include them in my next posts.
All in all, it was a fabulous meal, even if it was pulled together at the last minute.
I love macaroni and cheese. The boxed kind. As long as it’s the Kraft brand. This was among the first foods I learned to prepare (right after boxed chocolate chip cookie mix.) I mean, what’s not to love about pasta-ish food with gritty cheese-like sauce? It’s simple, it’s filling, and to me, it represents comfort.
For awhile, after I grew up, I became a mac and cheese snob. I decided that the humble yellow death was beneath me. I wanted real pasta with real cheese. I tried many homemade macaroni and cheese recipes from the very complicated “Oprah’s Over the Rainbow Macaroni and Cheese” to the starving student “elbow ‘roni, margerine, and parmesan”. Most of the recipes were good—in fact, good enough that I’d make them again. But I always go back to my royal blue and bus stop yellow box of Kraft. No recipes in this post—just a tribute to what my Academic Advisor in college called “The Yellow Death.”
I’ll post real mac and cheese recipes in the future—I promise. For now, here are some things I’ve done (or other people I know have done) to enhance the good ol’ Kraft stuff.
Chili Mac: Add a can of chili to prepared mac and cheese. Heat through and serve.
Tuna Mac: (my neighbor did this, not me, but to each his own, right?) Add a can of drained tuna and a dollop of mayo. Mix well. Serve warm or cold.
Salsa Roni: Add half a cup of your favorite salsa, and one can (drained and rinsed) black beans to the pan of macaroni and cheese. Serve with sour cream and chopped green onions.
Fake-a-roni: stir in a chunk of velveeta cheese spread to prepared macaroni and cheese. Season with ground pepper.
Mmmmm. Good.
As a kid, I learned a funny song from my best friend’s mother. To the tune of “On Top of Old Smokey” she would sing “On top of spaghetti/all covered with cheese/I lost my poor meatball/when somebody sneezed/It rolled off the table/and onto the floor/and then my poor meatball/rolled out of the door.” The song goes on to chronicle how the now free range meatball settled under a bush, turned to mush, and then grew into a meatball tree. I was fascinated by the idea of a food that inspired a song.
Spaghetti was a bi-weekly staple at our house, but my mom never made meatballs. Even after I begged her to. Even after I sang her the song. She’d fry up some hamburger and add it to the tomato sauce, so it’s not like she was anti-meat, she just didn’t want to go to any more trouble than was necessary. (Mom didn’t particularly like to cook.) I had to wait until I was a grown up and could make my own little meat gems. Here’s my “go to” recipe for meatballs, which is simple and basic and begs for tweaking. See my note below for ideas.
Meatballs
1 1/2 lb ground beefServe with spaghetti, or in a bun for a meatball sub. Makes 40 to 50 meatballs.
Note: This recipe makes so much we usually eat half and freeze half. You can halve the recipe pretty easily, too, if you’re not into lots of leftovers. As far as tweaking goes, go wild. Use half ground beef and half sausage, add a tablespoon of dried parsley, use Italian seasoned bread crumbs—be creative, because it’s all good.
I was recently going through some of the junk that has a tendency to accumulate on every horizontal surface in my house and found a recipe for a fancy hot chocolate that I’d ripped from a magazine. It has been sitting on the top layer of stuff on my microwave for the last few days and finally, I couldn’t bear it anymore. I HAD to make this recipe.
Unfortunately, it was Sunday evening, the worst possible time for me to try new recipes, because by Sunday, I’m running pretty low on basic food staples, much less “exotic” ingredients that all new, fabulous sounding recipes seem to require. This recipe called for some things I realized I didn’t have, namely three cups of milk, and a can of sweetened condensed milk.
Not to be deterred, I sent one of my kids to beg the last 1/3 cup of milk from a neighbor and went online to find a recipe for homemade sweetened condensed milk (there are many versions, but I used this one, which I had all the ingredients for!)
Armed with everything I needed now, I proceeded to make the recipe. It took FOREVER. I fixed an entire dinner and FED my family of six before the milk concoction was simmering. I spent more time laboring over making a TREAT than I did over an actual meal. But, then, I was making a CHOCOLATE treat, and dinner was just a humble “cowboy meal” of baked (nuked) potatoes and toast, smothered in baked beans (from a can).
Actually, for all the time spent on making the hot chocolate, it only turned out okay. The family liked it, but I had to tweak it to make it worth pouring down my gullet. I actually enjoyed dinner more than anything else—somehow, the simple, humble meal of beans, potatoes, and bread was much more satisfying than the labor intensive hot cocoa. Hmm. There’s probably a life lesson in this, but rather than muse on it, I think I’ll go make more toast.
Now, since I know you’re dying for the REAL recipe, and not my cowboy food, here you go:
Coconut Tres Leches Hot Chocolate
(adapted somewhat from a recipe found in Better Homes and Gardens magazine.)
3 cups skim milk
1/2 of a fourteen ounce can sweetened condensed milk (or you can use half of this recipe)
1 (14 ounce) can unsweetened coconut milk
2 1/2 Tablespoons cocoa powder
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
whipped cream (optional)
chocolate shavings (optional)
In a medium sauce pan, combine milk, coconut milk, and sweetened condensed milk. Over medium low heat bring milk mixture to a simmer. Whisk in cocoa powder until well mixed. Remove from heat and add vanilla. Serve immediately, with whipped cream and chocolate shavings if desired. Makes about 5 one cup servings.
What this blog is NOT: It is not a vegetarian blog. It never will be. Because I like meat. Especially red meat.
What this blog is: It is a place where I can ramble on about food I have eaten and recipes I have tried. I may or may not wax philosophical about cooking and eating. I may or may not wax sentimental over things like comfort food, and restaurants I like. I will document both successes and failures at trying new recipes.
What (who) inspired this blog: A few things (people) actually. First, my friend Ann, who introduced me not only to her fun and quirky personal blog, but also to blogs/websites such as The Pioneer Woman and Mel’s Kitchen Café. Second, one of the girls in my church’s youth group, a fourteen (fifteen?) year old girl who got so sick of being teased by her family about not being able to cook that she decided to prove them wrong—and document it in her own food blog. Third, I like to write and I like food. So why not combine the two?
Now, what’s with the name? And the hunky picture of Hugh Jackman? Here’s the thing. Ann, the friend I mentioned above, once posted a comment on Facebook about a movie she had recently seen called The Women. Apparently the movie lacked any major male roles, which led her to ask “Where’s the beef?” Then, later that week, she and I got talking about the movie Australia, starring Hugh Jackman. Somehow, Hugh Jackman got associated with beef—whether because of his role in the movie as a cattle drover or his chiseled, muscular body, I won’t say. At any rate, my husband caught on to the Hugh Jackman/beef connotation and it’s become something of a running joke. Any movie with an uber-masculine star is referred to at our house now, as “beef.” And, finally, because I am not one of those wimpy “just-a-salad-or-maybe-the-grilled-chicken” kind of girls, any hearty meal is also referred to as “beef.” Whether actual beef is involved is irrelevant. So there you go.
