singing its braises

by Lisa


Last night, some magic occurred. I placed some wedges of cabbage in a pan, sprinkled over it carrots and onions, and poured some olive oil and broth over it and let it braise.

It only took reading two paragraphs of Molly Stevens* to be convinced to plan to braise the very next meal I would make.

We all know that braised food tastes amazing. But the science behind it we rarely think about. But Stevens' description of the cycle of flavor evaporating, condensing, and stewing again helped explain how this method of cooking transforms a dish, giving it the depth of flavor unique to braising.

I knew I needed to make her cabbage recipe - so rustic and delightful, one of those dishes that you know tastes a million times better than it looks.

I had gotten home early from work yesterday, so David and I walked to the store, like Parisians - only, we were carrying a backpack - and gathered the ingredients for this homely meal. (Note to self: Walking to the store and knowing you have to carry everything back on foot is built-in protection against Buying Everything In Sight.)

Although this dish on its own would probably satisfy me (I could probably eat the whole thing myself), I knew that Kenny would want some meat, so we got some pork chops as well.

And since the braise takes two hours, I had some time on my hands and decided to make chocolate cornstarch pudding for dessert (another post for another time). You should too. Rustic plus trashy-classic is always a success. I suppose it's comforting.

Truly, the art of uncomplicated cooking is so restorative.

(Aside: I also hope to make this caramel pudding soon. Thanks, Stephie!)


The World's Best Braised Cabbage
adapted from Molly Stevens' All About Braising

2 lb head of green cabbage (it's not that big looking, but try to not go over in weight), cut into wedges (keep the core to hold the wedges together)
1 large yellow onion, sliced thick (this part was the best - they get so caramelly - so I would maybe even throw in two)
1 carrot, sliced into coins
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil (use your best)
1/2 cup chicken broth, or water (I increased this from the original recipe)
coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
crushed red pepper flakes

Preheat oven to 325. Lay cabbage wedges in a 9x13 glass baking dish (or a gratin pan if you have one). Try to make it fit in one layer. Scatter onion and carrot over cabbage, then drizzle olive oil and broth, and sprinkle with salt, pepper, and red pepper. Cover tightly with foil and bake for 2 hours, turning the cabbage over once at the halfway point, adding more broth if dry. Before serving, remove foil and raise oven to 400, allow to brown slightly, about 15 minutes.


*Her book is perfectly titled All About Braising. Now I just want to use that phrase, all the time. "I'm 'all about braising!' What?! I am!"

the stories will come

by Lisa

Today I bring you another post. Two posts in week! Even two posts in year is almost like setting a record now!

(That's how productive I am.)

The stories will come, I tell myself. For now, I must just post, post, post.

Today's dish is one of Kathy's favorite. It's a homey, Vietnamese tofu with tomato dish that I imagine every family will make differently. Considering I'm not Vietnamese, I'm sure mine is like none other. Huzzah!

"Vietnamese" Tofu and Tomato

1 package fried, cubed tofu (I think it's 16 oz? I threw away the package. It cost me about $2.)
3 tomatoes*, cut into wedges
1 large onion (or 2 small), sliced (in the direction of stem-to-root)
3-4 cloves garlic, smashed and peeled, but not minced (for the lazy)
6-8 oz (1 small can) tomato sauce**
1-2 cups water, depending on how much tomato sauce you use (see note below)
1-3 T fish sauce, to taste, also depending on how much water you use...
freshly ground black pepper
sliced green onions, for garnish

Heat wok or dutch oven (something higher-walled than a skillet is ideal), add a round of vegetable oil, saute onions for a few minutes. Add garlic, and stir for 30 seconds before adding the rest of the ingredients. You can do the fish sauce and black pepper last, so you can season according to how much water you used, and how sweet/salty the tomatoes/sauce are. Bring to a boil, then reduce to medium and let simmer, covered, for about 10 minutes (depending on how hungry you are). The tofu will absorb some of the juices, and the sauce should be very watery in consistency, but not in flavor. Adjust fish sauce and pepper to taste. Garnish with green onions if you want to be professional, and serve over hot Jasmine rice.


*I used fresh, Roma tomatoes. This is a good fall/winter dish, because it can hide the dullness of winter tomatoes. I think I've done this once with canned tomatoes, and if you do, you can cut out the sauce, and maybe add some ketchup instead? See ** below.

**Although there are some alternatives to using tomato sauce, I think it works the best. You don't quite need 8 oz, but that is the size of the can so sometimes I just dump the whole thing in, then add enough water to dilute so it doesn't taste like you're eating spaghetti with rice. In a pinch you can use a bit of ketchup or tomato paste.

And if that wasn't enough to entice you to visit, please admire the new pillow I got for our guest bed. It is calling your name!

sparing a moment

by Lisa


Reading this blog inspired me to post more regularly.*

That's what I said the last time, and while there's no promise that I really mean it this time, I can always try. Was it Luther who said that all of life is repentance? Turning around, getting up again and going?

Well, here goes.

I've been really grateful that lately I've been exploring more Asian food. I think that cooking for the kids has made me focus more on comfort foods, things that go well with rice. I realize that I really don't know anything about cooking Chinese food, so when I do make something good (even just a stir-fried broccoli) I'm ridiculously proud of myself. So, today I bring you dim sum style spare ribs. So unphotogenic. But so delicious!

Super easy to make, too. If you don't have a steamer (bamboo or metal), you can always buy the steamer racks (less than $1) you put at the bottom of a wok or dutch oven or big pot. And if you are a cheap student who doesn't even have that, you can - under such dire circumstances - prop up your dish with some chopsticks, or a corelle bowl or ramekin turned upside down. There are ways to get around this. Don't let anything stop you from steaming these delicious ribs.

Cantonese Style Spare-ribs
from Steamy Kitchen

1.5 lbs** pork spare ribs, cut into 1-1 1/2 inch pieces
2 T black bean sauce (or ground bean paste)
1 T Chinese rice wine (or dry sherry or vermouth) 
2-3 slices ginger, grated (microplane is the best!)
2 cloves garlic, minced (or grated, while you're at it)
1 t each, sesame and regular vegetable oil
1 t sugar

1 t salt

freshly ground black pepper

2 t cornstarch

Mix all ingredients besides the ribs together in the bottom of a medium sized mixing bowl. Add the ribs and coat with the marinade. Let sit at room temperature for 30 minutes. (Or an hour if you want to squeeze in an episode of Psych, like I did.) Fill up your steamer with plenty of water and bring to a boil. Transfer the ribs to a 9" glass pie pan (or something similar) and place in steamer. Bring temperature down to medium or medium high, so that it's getting good steam but isn't overdone. Let steam for 20-30 minutes, until ribs are no longer pink. (Or an hour if you want to squeeze in another hour of Psych, like I did.) Remove from steamer and serve with a piping hot, fluffly Jasmine rice - the kind you want to lay your head down in like a pillow.

 

In closing randomness, something to make my mother-in-law proud:

baby's breath in a gravy boat!

* I told David I thought we should try to blog EVERY night, and post together. But I'm not sure we can follow-through with that, so we'll try blogging together - but in our separate places - and if we can commit, we'll go for it! I guess you guys can encourage us with your comments. :)

**Or 4+ lbs, like I had, and eyeball the math for multiplying all the rest of the ingredients proportionately. You know I always cook for 20.

currying favor

by Lisa


I heartily encourage you to get yourself a head of cabbage and make this simple dish for dinner tonight. I don't quite remember how I found this recipe, but when I did, it was love at first sight.


Five-Minute Indian-style Cabbage
from herbavoracious

• 1/2 head green cabbage, cored and sliced thin
• 1 tablespoon vegetable oil or ghee (clarified butter), or mustard oil, or more to taste
• 1 tablespoon black mustard seeds
• 1/2 teaspoon cumin powder
• 1/2 teaspoon turmeric powder
• 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
• 1 teaspoon salt
• optional garnish: cilantro, lemon juice
  

1. Heat a large skillet or wok over a medium-high flame. Add the oil, wait 10 seconds, and immediately add the mustard seeds.
2. As soon as they start to pop, add the rest of the spices and any optional ingredients and stir-fry for 10 more seconds. Move quickly here so you infuse the flavor in the oil but don't burn them.
3. Add the cabbage and salt, and stir-fry until crisp-tender or tender, your preference. Taste and adjust seasoning.
4. Garnish with cilantro and/or lemon juice. (As much as I love this on other curries, I don't find it necessary for this dish.)

setting the record

by Lisa

As I write this post, the leftover shakshuka is still warm in the dutch oven. I think I'm setting the record for posting.

After David forced me to download all - yes, all 8 GB - of my photos off my camera last night, I've committed to post more immediately on the happenings in the Ro household.

Plus I told Felise I would give her the recipe.

After getting back from camping yesterday, I knew I was too tired to make anything elaborate, but I still wanted to have something special this morning for Felise. I then remembered that I had feta and parsley, which meant that I could easily make shakshuka, whose other ingredients are pretty much staples. Shakshuka pretty much defines Lisa-food: eggs, spicy, hot, saucy, cheese.

Well, David's home now so I'm off to throw in one last egg. Here's to posting more regularly!

Shakshuka (Eggs Poached in Spicy Tomato Sauce)
Adapted from Smitten Kitchen

Serves 4 to 6

1/4 cup olive oil

2-3 jalapeños, finely chopped (I leave in the seeds)

1 small yellow onion, chopped

5 cloves garlic, crushed then sliced

1 teaspoon ground cumin

1 tablespoon paprika (I used chile pepper instead, about 1/2-1 teaspoon)

1 28-ounce can whole peeled tomatoes, undrained

Kosher salt, to taste

6 eggs

1/2 cup feta cheese, crumbled

1 tablespoon chopped flat-leaf parsley
 (I use more)
Warm pitas, for serving (you can eat this with any bread, or rice/grain, or just on its own, like we did today)

Heat oil in a 12-inch skillet over medium-high heat. Add chiles and onions and cook, stirring occasionally, until soft and golden brown, about 6 minutes. (I add the onions first, and chop the chiles while those are cooking.) Add garlic, cumin, and paprika/chile, and cook, stirring frequently, until garlic is soft, about 2 more minutes.

Put tomatoes and their liquid into a medium bowl and crush with your hands. Add crushed tomatoes and their liquid to skillet along with 1/2 cup water, reduce heat to medium, and simmer, stirring occasionally, until thickened slightly, about 15 minutes. Season sauce with salt.
Crack eggs over sauce so that eggs are evenly distributed across sauce’s surface. Cover skillet and cook until yolks are just set, about 4 minutes. Using a spoon, baste the whites of the eggs with tomato mixture, being careful not to disturb the yolk. Sprinkle shakshuka with feta and parsley and serve with pitas, for dipping.

Note: I usually make 2 eggs per person. You can always re-heat the leftover sauce and add more eggs for your next meal, or when others join you at the table.

simply delicious

by Lisa

Our new neighbor and friend, Jenn, is a dancer. From her, I've learned that if you give a hungry dancer a cupcake, she will eat it. And maybe want another.

Or three more.

After tasting Simply Dessert's* Red Velvet Cake, we decided to give a go at our own. I compared recipes and landed on the NY Times'. They call for three ounces of red food coloring - which, at $2.99/oz., I decided to skimp on. I bought one ounce and added two ounces of water to make up the volume.

We made a three-layer cake (our digital scale came in handy in making it even), but if you have the capacity, I think four layers would be amazing.

In my opinion, reducing the food coloring made no difference, and so other than that, I thought the recipe was fantastic.


*I've decided that "Simply Desserts" is simply a misnomer for this shop. While they do offer a cookie or a muffin for those who wish, their cases are primarily filled with huge delicious cakes. Try the Banana Amaretto and the Chocolate-White Chocolate.

Red Velvet Cake
adapted from the NY Times

1 tablespoon unsalted butter
3½ cups cake flour
½ cup unsweetened cocoa (not Dutch process)
1½ teaspoons salt
2 cups canola oil
2¼ cups granulated sugar
3 large eggs
6 tablespoons (3 ounces) red food coloring
1½ teaspoons vanilla
1¼ cup buttermilk
2 teaspoons baking soda
2½ teaspoons white vinegar

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Place teaspoon of butter in each of 3 round 9-inch layer cake pans and place pans in oven for a few minutes until butter melts. Remove pans from oven, brush interior bottom and sides of each with butter and line bottoms with parchment.
2. Whisk cake flour, cocoa and salt in a bowl.
3. Place oil and sugar in bowl of an electric mixer and beat at medium speed until well-blended. Beat in eggs one at a time. With machine on low, very slowly add red food coloring. (Take care: it may splash.) Add vanilla. Add flour mixture alternately with buttermilk in two batches. Scrape down bowl and beat just long enough to combine.
4. Place baking soda in a small dish, stir in vinegar and add to batter with machine running. Beat for 10 seconds.
5. Divide batter among pans, place in oven and bake until a cake tester comes out clean, 40 to 45 minutes. Let cool in pans 20 minutes. Then remove from pans, flip layers over and peel off parchment. Cool completely before frosting.

a foodie's worse nightmare

by Lisa

In the only Korean drama I've watched in its entirety, My Name is Kim Sam Soon, the protagonist says that she can't bake sweet things with a broken heart. Likewise for me, it's been hard to enjoy cooking after all these transitions. Moving to a new city where we didn't know anyone has made rare the opportunities to cook for big groups of people whom we love.

It's a foodie's worse nightmare when you can't even eat food and enjoy it. That's how it was when we first moved to Seattle. (Of all places to not enjoy food!)

Praise God that I'm getting over that one.

And so now I have a plethora of pictures and recipes for you, in the posts to follow.

Breaking the silence

by Lisa

I know what you're thinking. I go dormant for more than 8 months and when I crop up again, it's for a chowder recipe? That's what Holly had been thinking, too. Until she took a bite.

You have to admit, though: this is an improvement to my breaking the silence for McDonald's, no?

But still, as I sit here having my fourth bowl, looking at how pretty it is, I realize how selfish it would be for me to keep it to myself.

Look at it - all the color! flavor! textures! wine to go with! Who says you can't have soup all year round? (Besides, in any case, Chicago clearly doesn't even care that it's mid-April already; it can't seem to sustain weather above 45 degrees for more than one day in a row.)

It was a nice addition (of both flavor and color) to stir in an arugula pesto I had whipped up the previous day. (I'm sitting now pondering whether to change that to "rocket pesto," for that would still be accurate to say, and more fun.) You probably already know that I have an affinity for pestos made from things other than basil (or else you probably aren't reading much of my writing), so it was surprising to me that I had never done this before. (Why, oh, why not?) The bright, peppery taste was perfect on a simple pasta, wonderful on a baguette, and great for putting in pretty much anything else (as we found out later). And, as with the heretofore favorite parsley pesto, it didn't oxidize and turn brown as quickly as would basil. A win on all accounts.

Not that the chowder needed any help. With red bell peppers, all kinds of colorful vegetables, hot smoked sausage, a dash additional of hot sauce, and freshly ground black pepper, it was a winner. (Which isn't to say that the Riesling was by any means superfluous.) I couldn't have been more pleased.

I had thought that with all those ingredients, the chopping would feel interminable. It shouldn't have surprised me, though, that with a few girlfriends standing around the counter chatting, the time flew by, and I had rather wished there had been more to chop.

So, to the store! And more importantly, to the phone! to call up your favorite friends to join you upon your return.

Corn Chowder
adapted from Gourmet, July 2005

4 hot smoked sausages
1 to 1.5 sweet onions
2 large carrots
1 celery rib
1 red bell pepper
2 yellow-fleshed potatoes, such as Yukon Gold
5 cups chicken broth (I use water and bouillon, for more control)
2 cans corn, drained
1 1/2 cups heavy cream
dash of Italian seasoning, or fresh thyme sprigs if you have them.
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Essentially, everything you can think of that could be diced, should be. I start with frying up the sausages in a touch of olive oil, then draining them on paper towels. To the same pan add a little more oil if it looks dry, and then add the chopped onion and let them sweat a bit. I take this time to chop the remaining ingredients and add them as I'm ready: carrots, celery, bell pepper. Then I add the stock (or water and bouillon - and here I find it wise to add less water than you think, just enough to cover) and the potatoes. Also add your fresh or dried herbs. Bring it to a boil, then let it simmer, covered, for 10-15 minutes until the potatoes are just tender. Stir in the corn and cream, and let simmer, uncovered, for a few more minutes. Throw in the sausage, a dash of hot sauce, salt and pepper.

Serve with a crusty bread and a crisp white wine. (We loved it with Polka dot. Medium- or "comfortable"-sweet.)

Also good with arugula pesto stirred in (recipe to follow).

Arugula Pesto

I used, as a starting point, Molly's pesto recipe which I'm obsessed with.

2 Tbsp. almonds
1 packed cup arugula leaves
4-6 Tbsp. olive oil
1 tsp. fresh lemon juice
2-3 small garlic cloves, pressed
kosher sea salt, and freshly ground black pepper.

Pulse almonds until fine like sand. Add arugula, lemon juice, salt, pepper, garlic and process while streaming olive oil. Taste, adjust seasonings. Serve with pasta, crusty bread, corn chowder, or pretty much anything.

If we dare say so ourselves

by Lisa

Really, I don't have much I want to say today except that Sarah and I made a potato salad this weekend which we quickly declared was The Best Potato Salad We've Ever Had.

Okay, maybe I have a few pictures, too. We had some burgers,


did some cartwheels (more like, As Many As We Could Possibly Do Before Feeling Ill),


tossed around a frisbee,


and laid around like kittens.


But really, the most important thing we did, honestly, was make and eat that potato salad. Okay, fine. Maybe that was second to hanging out with each other. And eating burgers. And doing cartwheels and playing frisbee. And sleeping like kittens. But still. It was darn good.

It was so good I'm tempted to go buy more potatoes right now. Even though it's July 7th. And we're not having a picnic for dinner tonight.


The Best Potato Salad We've Ever Had
adapted by Lisa and Sarah, from The Silver Palate

My favorite foods to make are those which don't depend on exact measurement, but rather require intuition and experimentation. So, as usual, please don't stick to what I've written here. Taste along the way (how could you not?) and adjust to your preference. You're bright. (You certainly will be after making and eating this baby.)

8 red potatoes, washed, peels left on
3 hard boiled eggs*, chopped

1/2 cup mayonnaise
2-4 tablespoons Dijon mustard
2 stalks celery, chopped
1/2-1/4 red onion, diced small
1 or 2 stalks green onion, chopped thin
handful of chopped Italian parsley

splash of white wine vinegar
splash or two of olive oil
salt and lots of fresh ground pepper

Boil potatoes whole in salted water until tender but still firm. Boil eggs as instructed below. In a bowl, stir together diced vegetables with mayonnaise and the rest of the ingredients, except last three ingredients. Roughly chop eggs when they are done. When potatoes are done, slice them roughly and sprinkle still-hot potatoes with vinegar, olive oil, salt and pepper. Mix into mayonnaise mixture.

Eat. Enjoy. Rinse. Repeat.


*Tried and true method: Add cold water to pot with eggs, bring to boil, covered. With pot still covered, turn off heat and set timer for 5-7 minutes (depending on how cooked you like them). Drain, and run cold water over them until to stop cooking and cool eggs. Also, older eggs (i.e., purchased a week ago or so) peel more easily, so plan ahead if you can.

A win-win situation

by Lisa

Navigating life in a period of transition comes with its challenges. In just a few weeks I'm packing my bags (more like, my bag) for the Windy City, leaving (at least physically) many dear friends from college (the most growing period of my life) as well as the part of the country in which I've spent most of my life.

When it first sunk in that I was leaving, I wondered about how I should invest in relationships. Did I need to taper off times with old friends, or just the opposite? And I also faced decisions about new acquaintances. Do I ask somebody to lunch and just as soon as they let me into their life wave goodbye? (They'll probably just as soon be thinking, "I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello..." Or maybe only Annie would think that.)

I had the same dilemma two days ago, when I re-found the seed packets some good friends had given me for Christmas. I don't know why I had put off planting them (or making a sourdough starter or writing that thank you card or anything else on The List, for that matter). Ah, procrastination. I guess it took Realizing There Isn't Much Time Left to just go ahead and try planting them. Pretty soon after, this thought flew into my head: "I'm going to be so upset if they actually grow (because I'll kick myself for not having planted them earlier)." Then I (just as) quickly realized the stupidity of that thought - of course I wouldn't be upset! It is almost a truth universally acknowledged that much sadness can be swept away by parsley pesto or a bowl of fresh arugula with goat cheese and vinaigrette.


It was a win-win situation. If I had herbs before I left, I would be joyful. And if I didn't - well, it didn't matter that I hadn't tried earlier!

I labeled the pots with question marks at the end. Who knew if they would contain parsley, chives, or arugula? So I labeled them "parsley?", "chives?", and "arugula?".


Today after getting up from a little nap, I checked the plants to see if they needed water. I couldn't believe my eyes - was I still dreaming? - when I saw tiny little shoots in the arugula pot! It hadn't even been two full day since I had planted them!


So I'm hopeful. Like the arugula, some new friendships of the past few months I'd mentally labeled "friendship?" have similarly started to sprout up. And instead of having regret that we didn't start this earlier, I'm grateful for what they are now.

And so I'm going to water them and care for them for the next 55 days and see what happens.

a poem

by Lisa

over vanilla milkshakes and smooshed "double" cheeseburgers
after minigolf
around 12 midnight

listening to camila
sitting in the parking lot

under the streetlamps

annie says,
"lis, i love how you can be such a food snob and yet still enjoy
mcdonalds."

Not with a bang but a whimper

by Lisa

Transitions, change, saying goodbye. There's no way to express the emotion with cohesion and clarity.

In a few months, I'll be leaving for Chicago. And I have friends moving on, as well, to other things, and places: China, Guatemala, marriage. I'm not quite sure what it looks like to say goodbye, because what is going and what/who is staying has become so confuddled, diffused like an electron cloud. Because I can say that I'm leaving Berkeley, but I'm also taking parts of it with me. And of course, whenever I return to it in future visits, it won't be the same.

Berkeley, you have been good to me. Rough, too. The city, the classes, the people, the bus lines, the restaurants (oh, the restaurants), the noise, the strangers. I think I will miss you.

I started to make a mental list of things I should do before I leave Berkeley, like Eat At Cheeseboard For A Week Straight So That I Get Too Sick Of It To Miss It, things like that. Or, dine downstairs at Chez Panisse, eat at À Côté, appreciate Berkeley Bowl. All those concrete things are good, they're easy to measure, and to check off a list. But how do you make sure you've spent enough time with your closest friends, and made sure they know that you've appreciated their friendship? That you don't know what you would have done if they hadn't been there to see you through your hardest moments, when there couldn't have been enough Kleenex boxes around, or minutes to sit together in the silence before you both had to get back to the paper that was due the next day? That through the sacrifices of their time, love, and lives, they've challenged you to be the best you could be, that they weren't afraid to tell you that you needed to change - to prune a part of yourself - for the better? That you're going to miss the way they imitate and mock you; or the way they complete your sentences, and you, theirs?

Speaking of food disasters...

by Lisa

Well, I wasn't really planning to write about my chocolate pudding disaster, because, for one, I'm not even supposed to write about it (I'm leaving that for Stephie), even though I've already written about it here and there. But I realized tonight when eating my fifth serving, I don't think I've had a disaster as delicious as this one. And since I didn't actually follow the recipe (do I ever?) I don't feel so bad writing about it. I can still let Steph take credit for the real recipe.

So a few weeks ago I made the pudding for the first time in a long time when I got these new dessert glasses (I think they're these ones; they look like the ones at Bittersweet and I looove them!). And that turned out well; see pictures in previous post. We stood around eating it. "Boozy," one person noted. "Yeah," the others agreed. "It is?" I chirped. But really, I didn't think it tasted boozy, per se - the alcohol only worked to cut the sweet a tad, which there was little to begin with, which I like. But to be honest, I felt embarrassed for not having noticed how boozy it was because one, I should have a discerning palate - I'm a food blogger! - and two, I've been trying to defend myself against the outrageous and unfounded claims that I'm an alky.

My friends call me The Alky, but I know that deep down inside they really actually appreciate it. In fact, these inklings were confirmed when Anna asked if, for her 23rd birthday, I would make "the boozy pudding." (Wait, did she ask, or did I just offer? Can't remember. I was sober then - really, I was.)

Anyway, I was all ambitious about making a huge batch of it, so there I was, pouring loads of milk into the saucepan, thinking, I want to make lots of pudding, and that requires lots of milk. (Was I trying to make it so that the rum could not claim to comprise most of the pudding as regards the liquids? No, not at all, not at all.) And then of course I didn't really have enough of the other ingredients to match the proportion. It didn't take long to figure out that it wasn't going to set, so I ended up throwing the bowl of liquidy goop in the freezer. I remember thinking it looked (and tasted) like melted ice cream (which foreshadows what was to come). Not exactly what I would expect of any pudding.

I was devastated, but instead of drowning all my sorrows in alcohol - after all, it had all gone into that pudding, anyway - I gave it one last chance to redeem itself. After giving it time to harden up, we popped it into the microwave and defrosted it slightly. Two minutes later it was as scoopable as ice cream, and twice as delicious. Redeemed, I thought. I almost wasn't sure I'd ever make the pudding the right way anymore. Spooned into a stemless martini glass with a dollop of whipped cream, it was enough to make up for a lifetime of cooking disasters. Ice-y, chocolatey rich, creamy, and most of all, boozy.

So, yeah, in true Lisa form, in order to make what I made, you can't really follow a recipe. But if you, too, want to enjoy an adult fudgsicle made from a pudding recipe gone wrong, you can try doing what I did, which is this: boiled three cups (i.e., way too much) milk, to which I added about 10 ounces chopped 70% cacao chocolate after turning off the heat. Threw this into the blender with only two eggs, poured half of it into a bowl, and added an additional egg to the blender, and poured the remainder in a separate bowl. Added generous amounts of alcohol. Despaired and whined. Threw bowls into freezer, then the microwave. Scooped, ate, and cheered. Hooray!

We've waited long enough

by Lisa

Wow. It's been a long time, friends. Almost a whole month has gone by without us saying even a word. Is anyone still there?

I've been thinking about you, readers, and have wanted to tell you about recent adventures. A lot of important things have been happening around here. One, I made my first hummus from scratch - well, almost from scratch. (Thanks, Soofie!) Two, Steph and I finally (two years later!) made the Salmon in Lemon Brodetto with Pea Puree and had the most wonderful dinner party ever, hands down - mostly because of the creative and hilarious company. (What could be more fun than giving each other piggyback rides around a tiny apartment after eating a delicious meal topped off with chocolate pudding pie?) Three, I ventured out to Blue Bottle - what else is there to be said?


But what I come to bring you today is these to-die-for biscuits. Actually, just hours before, I had made Steph's chocolate pudding (a pot de creme of sorts), but kinda felt guilty blogging about that. It is her recipe, and she still needs to write about it; after all, who do I call every time I forget the three ingredients that go into it? I wonder: did I make these biscuits out of penance? I really still don't like to bake, even though I often get all kinds of urges to do so; where they come from, who knows. But I was kind of hungry, and it's nice to have a motivation to do something I do/n't want to do. I knew I could, for at least a few minutes, trick myself into thinking I enjoy baking if I knew I could eat the result before no time at all. That's what quickbreads are for, no?


After cutting out the shapes (hearts, I know, I'm a softie - what can I say?), I wasn't quite sure what to do with the scraggly edges that remained. I'd tuned out almost everything I'd heard about baking, but I vaguely remembered that it's not a good idea to overwork dough that you want to be flaky. So, tossing the remainders on the baking sheet along with the nicely cut shapes, my roommate Anna teases, "Wow, Lisa. You really don't have much patience for baking, do you?" Hey, hey. I'm just trying make flaky biscuits, okay?


We enjoyed the dinosaur-shaped pieces with honey, watching the pieces as though figuring out what shapes the clouds were forming. Okay, not really. We were busier consuming them than thinking up such romantic notions, but I'm a writer - I feel like I have to say idealized things like that.

But without further ado, let me give you the recipe; I've waited long enough and probably so have you. And, Stephie, I promise to make you a whole tray of them, to make up for making the pudding and these, without you here!

Heart and Dinosaur Biscuits

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 stick butter (I used 1T less than a stick)
3/4 cup half-and-half (you could also use cream, buttermilk, milk)

Preheat oven to 425. Mix dry ingredients in a bowl. Cut cold butter into pieces, and using a pastry blender (highly recommended!), work the flour mixture with your hands or a pastry blender until it resembles pea-sized crumbs. (Alternatively, if you are without a pastry blender, you can use two knives, or your fingers to cut the butter into the dry ingredients.) Pour in liquid and stir a few times to mix. Turn onto a floured surface, and knead once or twice in order to bring it together. The dough should be sticky, resist the temptation to add too much more flour, but you can if you need to. Dust a rolling pin with flour and roll dough to half-inch thickness. Using a floured cookie cutter, cut biscuits. Place biscuits (and the edges, if you want dinosaurs/clouds) on a parchment paper on a baking sheet, next to each other, so that they rise up instead of out. Bake 10-12 minutes, or until the tops are golden. Makes 10-12 biscuits.

Birthdays all around

by Lisa

I don't know how it started, but last summer I made a goal for myself to learn how to cook Indian food. Maybe it started because Indian food occupies a lot of my mind space. Whenever I go see my parents, I cast my vote for Indian. It's something I grew up eating, since my family is from Malaysia and the cuisine there is almost as much Indian as it is Chinese. And it's not uncommon on the way back from class or work for me to call Naan 'n' Curry to order a piece of naan or container of rice. (Yes, they are programmed on my phone.) On top of all that, two of my good friends (one of whom also posts to this blog) wrote a song about the dreamy curry guy at the Naan 'n' Curry down the street. (It's called, well, Dream Curry Guy: The Spicy Remix.) Regardless of how it all started, the point is: I did it! I learned how to make Indian food. I shared a chana masala recipe a few months ago, and here I am back with more.


My best friend, Elizabeth, turned a year older this week. For her birthday, she asked if we could cook together and if I would teach her to make my Chicken Tikka Masala. We used to cook a lot together when we were in college (I say that like it was so long ago), and since it was something both of us missed and treasured, I happily agreed.

We actually tried making it a few weekends ago when we were at her parents' place. I looked up a few recipes and they all looked complicated. I ended up making a hybrid of a few recipes. We broiled the chicken, but in later versions, I found it unnecessary to do that; pan frying was enough for me. For me, at least, it's all about the cream sauce. My version is a little more spiceful than what I've had in restaurants. While I told you above that we ate Indian food often while growing up, I had never had Tikka Masala until I came to Berkeley. When I first had it, it didn't seem authentic to me - it seemed too starter, almost like vodka cream sauce. (Not that that's a bad thing or anything... just not authentic seeming.) So it's funny that my version is more spiceful than even I like, at least for Tikka Masala. It's just that it feels so wrong to cook something so plain. You'll have to play around with it on your own and see what you like, and/or visit the dreamy curry guy at N and C. So far we've discovered that he's most often guarding the cashier on Sunday nights.

Additionally, I recently added Making Rice On the Stove to The List of Lisa's Deviations from the Chinese Culture (the first item relating my use of a fork, and not chopsticks, to scramble eggs). I posted a recipe for spiced rice below, and you can also do it similarly in the rice cooker. And don't forget to call your local curry house for some fresh naan.

--

I came home one day and these little beauties had been baked. (Happy birthday, Justin!)


Oh, man. Is it okay for me to even like these things? I mean, I have a food blog, guys. I'll give you one if you don't tell anyone I like them. In fact, have a whole tray. (Except for the three I already ate.)


Maybe you've stuck with me so far (even through those pink things) because you're wondering what the question of the week is. It's a spin-off an icebreaker question I was asked at my work meeting. (Yes, I got a job!) I'm part of a team that addresses staff development/training at the University, so the question was: "If you could have a magical pillow for one night that could teach you anything you wanted to know, what would you want to learn? And how would your life be different after that?" So my spin-off is this:

If you could learn any one type of cuisine overnight, what would it be?

You already know mine.



Relatively Easy Chicken Tikka Masala

2 chicken breasts, diced

Marinate in:
1/2 cup yogurt
juice from half a lemon
salt and pepper
around 1/2 teaspoon each: ground cumin, coriander, tumeric, other spices as you wish (cayenne pepper, paprika, nutmeg, cinnamon)

1 medium onion, diced
1/2 inch ginger, minced or sliced
1 small jalepeno, seeded (or not), minced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 teaspoon cumin seeds
additional ground spices

1 small can tomato sauce (8 ounces)
1 cup cream

Marinate chicken, overnight if possible, but while prepping sauce will be just fine. I have a hard time giving measurements, since I just grab from the spice set I got.

Heat a few tablespoons of vegetable oil in a pan (preferably not non-stick) over medium heat. Add cumin seeds and cook until they begin to sizzle and pop, a few seconds. Add the onion and saute about 10 minutes; don't be afraid to let them get a little brown/caramelized. Add jalepeno, garlic, and ginger and cook for a few more minutes. At this point, throw in any additional spices (e.g., dried ginger if you don't have fresh, more clove if you like it, etc.) and fry until fragrant.

Add entire can of tomato sauce and stir; it seems to help clean up the bits that stick to the pan. Then add cream, stir, and heat.

In a separate pan (I like to use non-stick for this part), add few tablespoons oil to pan, and heat to high. Sear the chicken cubes. They don't have to completely cook here, since they can continue to cook in the sauce; breast meat tends to overcook quickly, so don't overdo it. When the chicken is done, throw it into the sauce.

Let sauce simmer on low or medium low until ready to serve.

Serve with rice, naan, yogurt, cilantro, lemon slices, tomatoes.


Indian Spiced Rice

3 cups long-grained rice, unwashed (I use Jasmine, but would like to learn how to do it with Basmati)
5 cups water
1 cinnamon stick
1 pod cardamom
3-4 whole cloves
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1 inch ginger smashed

1 tablespoon butter
1/2 teaspoon tumeric

Combine first set of ingredients in pot. Bring to boil, covered, then reduce to low and let cook for 15-25 minutes until water is absorbed. Avoid the temptation to lift the lid and check; it needs the steam to cook, and the water is pre-measured for this. When it's finished, stir in butter and tumeric. You can also add chopped flat-leaf parsley.

The challenge

by Lisa


So, today I face a challenge. No, it's not Can I Eat More Bananas Than My Housemates? (The checker at TJ's asked me, when scanning the second batch of 12 bananas in a month, "Do you live in a zoo?" Last time I checked, no. )

No, it's a lot more serious than that. Steph emailed me yesterday morning, providing the stats on our blog. Exactly three posts every month since we launched - no standard deviation on that mean. She said, "You have two days to post. Go!" (Thank goodness for leap years.)

It didn't take long to figure what I could write about. Because most of my brain space these last few days has been occupied by another challenge I had been facing. I was asked to cook for a dinner party for seven. Not a difficult task, under usual circumstances. But when I thought about those in attendance, I realized one of them had given up meat for Lent. Not a big deal, I frequently cook vegetarian. But add to that two lactose intolerants (one of whom also gave up sweets for Lent) and another who is deathly allergic to nuts, and there go a few good stand-bys like quiche, quiche, and quiche. Also, having recently read Smitten Kitchen's gracious post, I wanted to make Rachael Ray's You Won't Be Single For Long Vodka Cream Sauce. (My two cents' on RR is, well, simply this: Steph's amazing chocolate pudding is from her.) In any case, alas - vodka cream sauce contains, well, cream. Another no-go for the attendees.


So, anyway, the dinner. I was excited about this one. On the menu was a fellow foodblogger's Accidental Chickpea Soup, a Great Big Salad with Tomatoes and Cucumbers, Dessert Stolen From Someone Who Stole It From Cesar. For appetizers, crusty bread with all kinds of yummy tapenades: roasted garlic in warmed olive oil, parsley pesto but without almonds (it's official - I'm obsessed), sun-dried tomatoes, buttered mushrooms.


The dessert idea is so killer - figs and dates quartered and arranged in a flower pattern against white dishware with a dollop of lemon zest marscapone, drizzled with honey, garnished with an almond.

And, on a whim, I decided to use the lemon curd I made the night before (which I made for no other reason than just to make it), to make a lemon tart not unlike this one. For the curd itself, I used a hybrid of a few recipes I found, and I liked how it turned out - not too much sugar so that it's tart/sour enough to surprise you but not too sourface sour, if that makes sense. Maybe you'll just have to make it yourself. I think you'll like it, too.

Of course, getting to use my cake dome was really the highlight of it all. And the new pitcher. Oh, the new pitcher.


Two other things that made smile this week:

One. At Trader Joe's they were giving away balloons to the kids. I watched as what looked like a four-year-old girl tell her two-year-old brother, "Don't let go." As though the period at the end of her sentence were a cue, the little boy released his balloon just as she finished. The green balloon floated to the ceiling. I laughed out loud.

Two. On a more serious note, the other thing that made me smile this week was the rad sunset on Tuesday night. I think God uses these to remind me that He's in control. About a year-and-a-half ago I remember watching a sunset and sensing Him say to my heart that I don't lift a finger to make such a beautiful thing happen; can I not, therefore, trust Him to make a beautiful thing of all my life?

What two things made you smile/laugh this week?


(Thank you to my dear friend, David, for taking photographs tonight when I was without Elizabeth's point-and-shoot, the only camera with which I have any amount of familiarity.)


Here's a recipe for the tart; it's very flexible, so use your intuition and vary as you go!

Tart with chocolate and lemon curd

Tart:
1 prebaked tart
a handful or two of semi-sweet chocolate chips

Curd:
5 egg yolks plus 1 egg
1/2 cup lemon juice (~4-5 lemons)
zest from lemons (~1 tablespoon)
1/2 cup baker's sugar
5-8 tablespoons of butter

In a small saucepan, whisk together eggs, lemon juice, zest, and sugar. Heat on medium heat and continue to whisk constantly for about 8-10 minutes as it thickens. At some point, switch to a rubber spatula and continue to stir until it coats the back of the spatula, or you can run your finger through and it holds.

Remove from heat and stir in butter, a tablespoon at a time. Place saran wrap directly on surface to prevent skin from forming and refrigerate.

Place chocolate chips on tart. Place in warmed oven for a minute or so until chips begin to melt. (This works well when you've just baked the tart and the oven is already warm.) Remove and spread chips into a layer of chocolate. (I just used a butter knife; a spatula will do, too.) Refrigerate entire tart for a few minutes to cool.

Spread curd on top of tart with chocolate. Refrigerate some more. Garnish and serve!

Setting the record straight

by Lisa

I have a few wonderful things to tell you about today, which I think we all deserve, since it is Valentine's Day.


Tonight I started making a beef stew tonight with no one in mind to feed. All my roommates had plans and I hadn't thought ahead of time, but I went with it. It turned out magical, and even more so when a few friends showed up. (Apparently, by calling to say I had a beef stew going I caused a previous dinner engagement to be broken. But it's okay, they said - they were going to have Pasta Roni, anyway.)

It all started last week when I was craving stewy meats, Mexican style - chile verde or colorado with tender, pulled pork. But we didn't have any tomatillos or pork. What we did have, however, was beef and the leftovers from a bottle of Newcastle that Albert had brought over last night for Maria's 21st. (Don't be disappointed, Albie, because you rejected the dinner invite for chicken and waffles. So yeah. ) After searing the flour-dusted beef cubes, I used the Newcastle to scrape up the drippings. The result? Deliciousness. I cooked the beef slowly on low heat with tomatoes, onions, garlic, jalepeno, a bit of cumin, oregano and bay leaf. The wonderful secret was a the smallest sliver of butter (inspired by a tomato sauce recipe I've been wanting to make).

My mom called in the middle of it all and gave me the brilliant suggestion of serving it over angel hair - brilliant because this would be more incentive to make Ms. Steph I-love-noodles-more-than-I-do-rice Lai come over. And because for weeks I'd been wondering what to do with all the stacks of capellini we have. (Somehow I find suitable purposes for all other shapes of pasta: fettuccine for pesto, shells for saucy stuff, spaghetti for garlic and olive oil [I'll have the share the Silver Palate recipe sometime] - but never anything for angel hair.) Anyway, Mom was right. It was delicious.

And now for the almost nothing-to-do-with-food comment of the day. The man at the flower shop by my house gave me a rose this morning on my way to work - isn't he sweet? And then on my way back from work a little baguette caught my eye and so I bought that. The two were just so perfect together, and I was very content. Anyway, it reminded me of the time last week I went two days in a row to Trader Joe's just to pick up three things: baguette, brie, and 71% cacao chocolate. (Yes, I share.) 12 items or fewer line? Why don't they just open up a lane for three? Let me just say: I could be wooed with bread and cheese and dark chocolate. (Flowers would help, too.) I'm just saying.


What three things could you be wooed with?


Newcastle beef stew over angel hair

1 1/2 pounds stew beef cubes
flour, salt, pepper for dusting
1/4 to 1/2 cup Newcastle or other similar brown ale
good-quality olive oil

1 medium white onion, chopped
1 can diced tomatoes, with juices
half jalepeno, sliced thinly, lengthwise
3 cloves garlic, pressed
1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon cumin
1/4 teaspoon oregano
1 bay leaf, cracked
1 pat butter (I used less than a tablespoon, but you can't go wrong with more)

1 pound angel hair
cilantro and lime (optional)

Rinse beef and and dust with a mixture of flour, salt and pepper. Heat stainless steel pan (preferably not nonstick) on medium heat. Add olive oil to cover the bottom of the pan and increase heat to medium-high. Add beef and allow to brown. (You may have to do this in two batches, adding additional oil if needed.) Turn and sear other side. Add seared meat to another pot in which you'll cook the stew. (This recipe would do well in a crock pot.) To that pot also add the vegetables, spices/herbs, and butter. Allow this to heat up while you scrape up the drippings. While the pan is on some heat, pour the beer in, scrape up the bits, and add it to the stew. When the stew is at about a boil, turn down heat and allow to simmer for as long as you can wait - forty-five minutes to an hour and a half would be great, but I don't think even we waited that long.

Ten minutes prior to serving, drop angel hair into boiling, salted water with a few drops of olive oil to keep from sticking. When cooked, drain and serve with beef stew on top.

Also, I didn't try it this time, but I'm sure it would be great with cilantro and a squeeze of lime. I wasn't sure if it would be good to put the cilantro into cook - it probably would be good, too. And we didn't have much more than a sip of the brewski left, but I'm sure dinner would go well served with whatever beer you use in the stew.

Lastly, I found a recipe for chile verde I'd like to try sometime. There are also nice pictures, so it's worth checking out.

A brainstorm of sorts

by Lisa


Oh, no. I think I have writer's block.

-

Okay, so I just took that to my wonderful roommate Maria, and we talked it out. So here's how I feel: I have been cooking up storms and taking pictures like nobody's business, but have had absolutely no inspiration this past week to write about any of it. Sure, I wanted to show off my pictures, but, having been an English major, I sort of cringe at the idea of having no theme for my writing. At the same time, this feeling reminded me of brainstorming ideas for papers in college or high school. I would have all these brilliant ideas jotted down on sheets of unlined paper - or if I was lucky, on a huge white board (thanks, Ms. Moore!) - seemingly disparate but somehow connected. Many a time I wished I could just turn in my brainstorm, filled, as it were, with bursts of ideas - raw, distilled, and ready to be unpacked, reinterpreted, connected, extended.

So that's what I come to offer today. My raw, unedited thoughts and reflections on what has been going on in my kitchen (and beyond). Is it okay if I show off - my work and others' - in unorganized/conglomerate fashion?

Let's start simple. I've been enjoying a lot of toast and English muffins lately. When I say a lot, I mean a lot. Like I'm-not-having-lunch-but-instead-I'll-have-three-slices-of toast-with-butter a lot. (Daily bread? Um, how about hourly bread?) I think the ability to be content with this simple jewel of a food has to do with the fact that I recently added salted butter to the repository that is our fridge; usually, unsalted does the trick for all the baking that goes on around here, certainly not by me.

(Steph wants to know if anyone else eats buttered toast upside down so that the butter hits your tongue first.)

I tried to make cornmeal pancakes, like they make at Rick and Ann's, but I have yet to perfect the recipe. If anyone has ideas, please let me know!


My friend Milton (whom I had over for shepherd's pie) made me amazing chicken katsu, which is what inspired today's adventure with Stephanie. It was such a pleasant, satisfying meal - brussels sprouts gave it a spin on the traditional bed of shredded cabbage. Recipe to come soon (perhaps), along with a magic sauce. In the mean time, find yourself an old t-shirt to wear while deep-frying.


One word: quiche.


Also, I went through a phase this week when I made things from other good food blogs: curried egg salad, quick black beans with cumin and oregano, and (ahem) more of that parsley pesto. The humbling reality of it all is that I really haven't made up much myself. But that's okay, if it means I get to have Arizmendi pizza. (Steph and I are in the process of whipping out a plan to storm all the good pizza places in the area.) And I certainly don't mind the simple things like oranges and buttered toast.


I don't need to end this thing formally, do I? It is, after all, a brainstorm. Maybe I'll expand on any one of these topics someday. But until then, have a happy weekend!

I feel like breaking all the rules today and not leaving a recipe. This isn't because I don't love you, because I do. It's because I almost never write down recipes, which I know surprises people when they find out I was also a chemistry major. (I hated lab notebooks, except for finding other uses for carbon paper.) And so it's a lot of work when I write a post and have to figure out what I did and share it so you can replicate it at home. Sometimes I even do it again on my own with the measurements just to make sure it's exactly the same. (Example: tonight I tried to redo the katsu sauce and it just wasn't the same as when I did it the first time without measuring.) And now I'm tired and just want to get this post up on the web. But I'd be happy to give rough instructions for anything if you give me a ring. Or, better yet, just show up at my door and I'll make you something real quick. I may not feel like writing, but I almost always feel like cooking.

Thanks for reading!

Easy as pie

by Lisa


It has been freezing these days in Berkeley. So last Friday when I had friends over for dinner, I knew what I had to make. Of course, what I really wanted to make was Molly's parsley pesto again, which to be honest I've been making almost compulsively since we first made it last week. (Is three times in a week a lot?) But I knew I needed to have something more substantial, something warm and comforting. In the kitchen I found an unassuming bag of russet potatoes and then it hit me - those two words: shepherd's pie. It was the idea I had been looking for and didn't know, and/but heck - I'm always looking for excuses to turn on our gas oven. (It heats up our house nicely.)

It was raining (torrentially, I might add) that day, but I was not going to let that keep me from getting ground beef. Armed with an umbrella, I hiked up my jeans and headed to the store.


Actually, to tell you the truth, the whole time I had arguments with myself as to whether or not it was a good idea. Though my jeans stayed dry, my shoes and feet did not. I thought to myself, is it time to get polka dotted rainboots or fake Uggs? I hope not. But as I continued along and thought about the hot and bubbly creamy mashed potatoes on top of tasty ground beef, I came to my senses. And I'm glad I did. It truly was a good day to make shepherd's pie.

We had the pie with a salad, Greek-ish: baby greens, cherry tomatoes, red onions, and feta with a vinaigrette made from lemon zest and juice, olive oil, coarse kosher sea salt and freshly ground pepper. Of course we had a fresh warm loaf of bread, too, and I probably could have just eaten that and been content, but then again - no, the pie was to die for, even worth the cost of getting drenched in the rain.


So, whether or not it's raining today where you live, let me tell you: today is a good day to make shepherd's pie.


Okay, now that I've written you a beautiful, heartfelt post, it's time for you to send me/us some love! My shameless plug:

Our blog is powered by Blogger and your comments. Really. Comments equals love, says Stephanie. Maybe you thought you need a blogger account to comment. You don't! In fact, you don't even need a gmail account. (Though they are pretty spiffy.) So leave us some love; let us know you stopped by. Don't remain a stalker - a closet love-is-cooking-reader, if you will - like some. Ahem. (End shameless plug.)

Now for the recipe...

Shepherd's Pie

For the potatoes:
5 medium sized potatoes (peeled or not)
1 tablespoon butter
roughly half a cup of milk
salt and pepper

For the filling/pie:
1.5 pounds ground beef
2-3 carrots, peeled and chopped
1 medium yellow onion, diced
half a bag of frozen green peas
1 tablespoon oil
1 packet mushroom gravy mix (I know, most gourmets don't have this kind of stuff sitting around, but yanno. It is okay to go out in the rain for this ingredient. I promise it'll be worth it.)

Preheat oven to 400.

Potatoes. Boil salted water for potatoes. Throw in diced potatoes and boil, covered, until cooked, about 20 minutes. (I left the skins on, and some fell off while cooking, so I had about 1/3 of the skins in my mashed potatoes. This was the effect I wanted, as so really, my laziness paid off for me this time!) Drain, and to a large bowl, add potatoes (with however much skin you like), milk, butter, salt and pepper and mix with a hand beater or potato masher until smooth. Adjust milk to desired consistency. It's better to err on the wet side since it dries a bit in the oven.

Filling. While potatoes are boiling, heat oil in large pan. Add onions and sautee until they are lighter in color. Add carrots stir and cover, allowing them to cook, about 10 minutes. Set vegetables aside and cook ground meat in pan; drain if there is excess fat. Combine meat with vegetables, then add frozen peas and heat until peas are brought to the same temperature as the rest. Sprinkle mushroom gravy mix (don't add water!) to mixture and stir to combine.

Putting it all together. Spread meat mixture on bottom of 9x13 pan. Spread potatoes on top; leave it rough so that it browns nicely. Bake at 400 for about 30 minutes until warmed through and nicely browned. (Recipes online said until "hot and bubbly." I wanted mine to get bubbly, but it started getting too dark before it ever got there. Am I a failure?)

Serve with salad, bread, all the good stuff.