Failed Mac-N-Cheese

Hey Tia Fia!

Long time- no talk. :( I've missed our letters. I know that you've had some time-consuming stuff going on, but I just sit around and gestate. Seriously. Little Arroz is doing well- B and I got to hear the heart beat (for the first time) yesterday. I think I've been waiting for confirmation something is in there and that I'm not just puffy. Not once, in the last 24 hours, have I called L.A. "evil fetal parasite".


In other news: I went to a Mac-N-Cheese cook-off on Monday night. Yes, I said it. Mac and Cheese COOK-OFF. The evening included 9 cheeses, carbohydrates galore, shallots, pepitas, and bacon grease; it was a chubby 12 year-old girl's wet dream (the one that inhabits my 30-year-old body). Although it's one of my favorites, I've never made a macaroni and cheese. It's a dish I avoid because I'd gulp it down before B got home and then I'd have to lie and make a whole new batch. Really, I don't need that kind of complication in my life.

So000- my first mac-n-cheese looked great. I took it to the party, heated it up in the oven, and had huge hopes it would be the winner. I'd chosen a basic recipe that added corn right before you baked it (again from Casserole Crazy). The name- Seduction.

Did it seduce? NO. For some reason all the cheese floated to the top and left the body of the casserole just noodles and corn. How sad was that? I about died when the first person tucked into the casserole. Thank God we didn't have to put our name on anything.:)

Here you try it and see if you can figure out what I did wrong.

1 pd small shell macaroni
1/2 stick of butter
1 cup of milk
4 cups shredded cheddar
1/2 cup shredded Monterey Jack cheese ( I didn't include this. B and I'd gone to get groceries and I left a shopping bag somewhere in Andersonville- by the time I'd figured it out it was too late.)
1 cup grated Parmesan cheese
Salt and Pepper
1 bag frozen whole-kernel sweet corn


Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Parboil the pasta, drain, and set aside.

In a large pot over medium heat, mix the butter, milk and 1 cup of the cheddar cheese. Stir until smooth. Add the pasta and mix until well coated. Gradually add 2 cups of the cheddar cheese to the mixture, stirring constantly. Once mixed and the cheddar begins to melt, add the Monterey Jack to the mixture and stir. Add 1/4 cup of the Parmesan cheese and continue to stir. Salt and pepper to taste. Gradually add the corn while continuing to stir.

When thoroughly mixed, transfer to a buttered 2 1/2-quart casserole dish. Sprinkle 1/2 cup of the cheddar and 1 tablespoon of the Parmesan on top. Bake, uncovered, for 35 to 45 minutes or until bubbly and lightly browned.

Remove from oven and layer remainder of the Parmesan and cheddar on top. Bake 5 to 10 more minutes or until top layer is lightly browned.

Let stand 5 minutes before serving.

Hate- A Four Letter Word

Dear Tia Fia-

That Sausage Lentil soup looks so GOOD. Lentils I don't have much experience with, but sausage is one of my favorites. I am going to try the soup this week- do you make your own beef broth or buy it? The soup and the poem both brightened my day: although we haven't hit super low temps in Chicago, it gets dark at 4:55. We see no sun.

I thought a lot about the KKK after you mentioned them last week; the picture you posted stood in stark contrast to my impression of them as impotent, uneducated, probably inbred, hick hate-mongers who like to appear on Jerry Springer. It's lucky, for them, that those white hoods hide so many IMPERFECTIONS. It's bad, for us, that their headwear demands such feelings of fear and intimidation.

Speaking of hate, I loathe what most Mid-Westerners call Fall Favorites. In this list, I place beets, butternut squash, acorn squash, yams, and any pumpkin foodstuff. I've probably neglected to name them all, but if it's a vegetable and somebody is willing to pour maple syrup on it- Don't get it near me! Really, my thinking is too rigid to include sweet/savory side dishes when all I really want is spicy. But B, the liberal and flexible side of this duo, keeps asking me to include the above in my weekly repertoire. Begrudgingly, I found this tart in Puff Pastry Perfection, another generous gift from my mom. It includes puff pastry (I swear this is the real God's gift to women) and goat cheese. Two things I love and then the squash for B.




Butternut Squash and Farmer's Cheese Tart

1/2 of a 17.3- ounce package of frozen puff pastry, thawed for 30 minutes
3 tablespoons of unsalted butter
12 ounces of butternut squash, cut into 1/2-inch cubes (about 2 3/4 cups)
3 garlic cloves, minced
salt
pepper
1/8 teaspoon of allspice
4 ounce of crumbled farmer's, feta, or goat cheese
1 green onion chopped

Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper. On a lightly floured surface roll out the puff pastry to a 10 inch square. Place pastry on cookie sheet and refrigerate for a least 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, in a large skillet on medium heat melt the butter. Add squash and saute five minutes. Add garlic, salt, and pepper and saute until squash is soft, 1-2 minutes. Stir in allspice and additional salt and pepper to taste. Cool to room temperature. (This can be prepped 2 days ahead if you want to make this a quick week-night meal.)

Preheat oven to 400.

Sprinkle three-fourths of the cheese on the pastry, leaving a 1-inch border. Arrange squash mixture on top. Sprinkle with remaining cheese.

Bake tart for 20-25 minutes or until edge is puffed and golden. Sprinkle with green onion. Serve warm or at room temperature. Makes 4 servings.

Have you tried anything from Puff Pastry Perfection?


Love,
TT

Thinking of Flowers

Dear Tia Tay,

I have been shamelessly negligent in my letter writing lately! I don't have any excuses, either, so I won't bore you with made-up ones. I'm so glad that you and the little arroz have recovered from your bout with H1N1 - I got to experience being terrified and relieved all in one strange surge of emotion as I read your letter. It was a pretty confusing moment for me, and J couldn't understand why my face looked as though I had eaten something horribly disagreeable (like stewed carrots, for example, ugh) but seemed to enjoy it.

While you've been considering huge philosophical issues of mortality and responsibility, I've been doing a lot of staring out the window and thinking about the KKK. Random, right? But they've been supposedly handing out leaflets in the suburbs, reminding me that I live in a city that still bears the scars of being the former capital of the confederacy. This picture I came across in my googling about them haunts me, since it was taken here in Richmond. It sounds idealistic, I know, but I feel so helpless sometimes about how difficult it is be human, as you know from your recent experience with being physically ill while pregnant!

But how amazing to be human - and to know that inside you another human life is growing, and to know that you will literally bear it, and tend to it as you have the flowers filling their pots on your balcony. Speaking of flowers, I thought I'd share this poem with you so we can both fortify ourselves against the coming cold of winter, and against the forces in the world that might otherwise scare us so:

February: Thinking of Flowers
by Jane Kenyon (from Otherwise)

Now wind torments the field,
turning the white surface back
on itself, back and back on itself,
like an animal licking a wound.

Nothing but white - the air, the light;
only one brown milkweed pod
bobbing in the gully, smallest
brown boat on the immense tide.

A single green sprouting thing
would restore me . . .

Then think of the tall delphinium,
swaying, or the bee when it comes
to the tongue of the burgundy lily.

Speaking of green sprouting things, I made some lentil soup on Sunday and just heated up and topped a big bowl of it with a handful of arugula. . .

. . . since I probably need more than poetic fortification for an afternoon of errand running in the rainy cold.

Sausage, Lentil, and Red Onion Soup

1 cup or more of dried lentils
4 cups beef stock
1 lb. chicken sausage, cut into slices
1 large red onion, chopped
2-4 cloves of garlic, minced
a few handfuls or arugula, spinach, kale, or whatever other greens
1 tbsp. olive oil

In a dutch oven, bring lentils and stock to a boil, then turn the heat down to low. Simmer for about an hour.

Thirty minutes later, brown sausage in pan. Add onions and continue to cook, stirring occasionally for about 5 minutes, or until onions are softened. Add garlic and cook for a minute longer. Add greens, cooking until slightly wilted.

Pour sausage mixture into lentil mixture and stir until incorporated. Cook over low heat for another 20-25 minutes, or until lentils are soft.

Roll up the last (sob) of your secret stash of HEB tortillas that you bought on your last visit to Tejas, where tortillas is serious business . . .

. . . and dip into soup. Eat. Repeat.

Hope you, little arroz, and B are staying dry and warm -

Love you,

TF

Dinner, Interrupted

Dear Tia Fia,

First let me say (as I'm jumping up and down and doing that high-pitched girl thing) "You submitted your book, you really did it, I'm so proud of you!" Hugs and more jumping- just to convey how excited I am. I can only imagine that when the Powers at the Publishing House recieve your manuscript they will stand up dramatically, raise the poems above their heads and intone, "This my friends, this is it. Our quest is over."

My Sunday started out a lot like yours. B played hooky from his homework and asked me to watch the Bears game with him. I'm guessing he was inspired to ask me on a date because I hadn't made that awful dry-heave noise in the last 48 hours. I felt so GOOD (except this little cough that I tried not to think about) that I hot-rolled my hair, put on eye-liner and even wore my largest, most purple, f-me earrings:

.

Our day went as planned, Bears and bar food at Bar on Buena, window shopping at Broadway and Belmont, and then a bus ride home. At that point, I was feeling a little tired, but didn't think much of it- I've been tired for a good three months now. When we got home, I started to make dinner. B has pleaded for Pozole Roja for the last year and I'd finally decided to make some. I chopped onions, seared the pork and dumped in the chicken broth- just as I left it to braise in the stove, I felt the first of the CHILLS.

I don't know if everybody gets them, but I know when I can't move my arm without feeling like I just plunged into Barton Springs pool I've got a temp that's about to rise a few degrees. First, I thought "swine flu". Second, I thought "I'm going to die." I know, Tia F, I know that seems dramatic, but the fear was reinforced when I googled H1n1 Chicago; I'd just wanted to see if there was an outbreak. Do you know what the first headline to appear was? Just guess. Chicago: 25 Year Old Pregnant Woman Dies of Swine Flu on Friday. Reassuring, right? B and I then both look at each other, grab our respective cell phones, he calls the doctor and I call my family. Both of them tell us to go straight to the ER. We made sure the stove was turned off, gathered up our things, and quickly hailed a cab.

We were at the ER for a good six hours, not much of note happened, except that I got put on an IV, they diagnosed me with swine flu, they took x-rays of my lungs then diagnosed me with pneumonia, then gave me a ton of medication that is safe for our little Arroz and would make me feel better within days. Whew! Close call.

Rewind to two weeks earlier. I've wracked up a number of absences(all that icky morning sickness) and I'm participating in a meeting that ends with me signing a warning that states "two more absences and I'll be fired." Uhhggg. So in the past month I've been written up several times at a job I can't afford to lose (this has never happened), I've seen my ob/gyn more than my friends, and I've spent some time in the ER, another first for me.

I just wanna demand, "Alright LIFE- Just Stop Where You Are!" I do not want to learn this lesson on vulnerability. My fantasy pregnancy life involved a beautifully painted nursery, hand-holding with B, and cute little kicks in my abdomen. I never imagined how defenseless it would make me to financial and physical forces outside of my control. But that's life, right? I better buck up and bear it. And while I'm at it- I better finish that Pozole that I started.




Pozole Rojo

Stew
1 bone-in picnic shoulder roast
Salt and ground black pepper
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 medium- large onions, chopped coarse
5 medium garlic cloves, minced or pressed through a garlic press
1 (14.5-ounce) can diced tomatoes
1 tablespoon chopped fresh oregano
6 cups low-sodium chicken broth
2 ounces dried ancho chiles
11/2 cups boiling water
3 (15-ounce) cans white or yellow hominy, drained and rinsed

Garnishes
2 limes, cut into quarters
1/2 head of cabbage (the recipe says lettuce, but I think that's because they're based in Maine)
6 radishes
1 small onion
1/4 cup pureed ancho chiles
soft flour or corn tortillas


1) Heat the oven to 300 degrees. Trim the thick skin and excess fat from the meat and cut along the muscles to divide the roast into large pieces of various sizes; reserve the bones. Season the meat generously with salt and pepper to taste.

2) Heat the oil in a large ovenproof Dutch oven over medium heat until shimmering. Add the onions and 1/4 teaspoon salt. Cook, stirring frequently, until the onions have softened, about 4 minutes. Stir in the garlic and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds.

3) Add the meat and bones and stir often until it is no longer pink on the outside, about 8 minutes. Add the tomatoes, oregano, broth and 1/2 teaspoon salt. Increase the heat to medium high and bring to a simmer. With a large spoon, skim off any scum. Cover the pot and place it in the oven. Cook until the meat is very tender, about 2 hours.

4) Meanwhile, remove the stems and seeds from the ancho chiles; soak the chiles in a medium bowl with the boiling water until soft, about 20 minutes. Puree the chiles and soaking liquid in a blender until smooth. Pour the puree through a strainer into a bowl and reserve 1/4 cup of the pureed anchos for garnish.

5) Remove the pot from the oven and remove the meat and bones to a cutting board. Stir in the hominy and the remaining 3/4 cup ancho chile puree Cover and bring the stew to a simmer on top of the stove over medium-low heat. Cook until the hominy is hot and the flavors meld, about 30 minutes.

6) When the meat is cool, shred it using your fingers or the tines of two forks; discard the bones. Stir the shredded meat into the stew. If serving immediately, spoon off any fat that rises to the top and then simmer until the meat is hot, about 10 minutes. (The stew can be covered and refrigerated for up to 3 days. Spoon off the hardened fat and bring back to a simmer over medium-low heat.) Adjust the seasonings. Ladle the stew into individual bowls and serve immediately with the garnishes.

This one was WAY long. I'll try never to have to catch you up this much again.

Love,
TT

Show Me the (Papri)kash

Dear Tia T.,

It's my turn to apologize; I've been slow to write as well. As a child, I would tell my mother that I would clean my room, help do the dishes, or make my bed in "just five more minutes," at which point I would continue to bury my nose in whatever novel I was reading. Five more minutes would inevitably become ten, then fifteen, and then my mother would become a towering inferno of maternally indignant rage. As an adult, my "five more minutes" stretches out to days, weeks, and months. Though my mother is still capable of making me mind, it's harder for her to do so since I can just hit the end button on my cell.

While you've been preparing your life for the arrival of some very precious cargo, I've been preparing mine for its departure. After many days of arranging, rearranging, and agonizing over revisions of almost seventy pages of poems, I finally sent out my manuscript on Friday to a couple of first book contests. While I'm sure I missed more typos and poorly written sentences than I want to think about, at least it's out, and I can pretend to myself, for a little longer, that I'm not a failure. (Insert poorly differentiated exchange with myself here.)

Sundays are usually the days that J buckles down from noon 'til night to finish all his homework in one frenzied, cranky sitting, but he had a lighter load this weekend, which meant that either we were going to enjoy each other's company all day, or that I would hate him because he sometimes breathes weird. Thankfully, the former seemed to be true. Tolerating each other was made easier by our favorite foodstuffs.

I think that we took y'all here when you came last spring. Perly's has some of the best damn breakfast in the city. They also have that cool looking antique cash register and this homemade green chili sauce bidness, thereby utterly satisfying my inner condiment whore:

Who wouldn't want to fall in love again after fortifying oneself with this plate of goodness? While awesome, after breakfast J and I both agreed that something felt...amiss. After collapsing on our couch in mutual fullness, ahem, adoration, we got to work making some brownies. And then, because we are so young and hip and full of joie de vivre, enthusiasm, etc., we ate them and almost put together a whole 1/150th of a puzzle. J did manage to categorize many of the pieces according to shape and color, which we both agree will help in future assemblage.

Exhausted by all the time we were spending together, J finally got to work on his little bit of homework, and I began making dinner. Since J has class until late on Monday, I try on Sundays to make something that will taste good heated up and will last a couple of days. Did you know that paprikash has, um, a lot of paprika in it? Weird, right?

Chicken Paprikash (adapted from Cook's Ilustrated)

8 bone-in skinless chicken thighs
1 tsp canola oil
1 large onion, halved and sliced thin
1 large green bell pepper, halved and sliced into 1/4 inch strips
1 large red bell pepper, halved and sliced into 1/4 inch strips
3 1/2 tbsp paprika
1 tbsp flour
1/4 tsp Herbes de Provence
1/2 c. chicken broth (original recipe calls for 1/2 cup white wine, which I'm sure would be delicious)
1 can diced tomatoes, drained
1/3 c. sour cream
salt and pepper

Adjust oven rack to lower-middle position and heat oven to 300 degrees. Salt and pepper both sides of each thigh, and heat oil in a Dutch oven over medium-high heat. When the oil is shimmering but not smoking, add four chicken thighs. Cook without moving them until crisp and well-browned, about 5 minutes. Flip thighs over and cook for another five minutes. Transfer chicken to a plate and cook remaining four thighs.

Discard all but about a tablespoon of fat from the pan. Add onions and cook for about 5 minutes or until soft and starting to brown. Add peppers and cook until slightly softened, about 3 more minutes. Add paprika, Herbes de Provence, and flour, then stir until fragrant, about a minute. Add broth or wine, tomatoes, and a few generous pinches of salt. Add chicken pieces, and submerge in the sauce mixture. Bring to a simmer, about 1-2 minutes, then cover with a lid and place in oven for 20-25 minutes.

In the meantime, add a few glugs of Tabasco or hot sauce of your choice to sour cream. Mix to incorporate. Take chicken out of Dutch oven long enough to incorporate the sour cream. Return to mixture.

Served over white rice, it was filling enough that my favorite cohabitant only ate one serving. Though maybe the reason for that had more to do with the brownies I saw him sneaking all afternoon...

How was the rest of the weekend? What should I do with two Russet potatoes, ground beef, and spinach? How did your pozole turn out? I've been dying for that recipe ever since you made it two Thanksgivings ago. Speaking of...let's do some brainstorming about Thanksgiving eats soon.

Loveyoumissyou -

Fia

Excuses

Dear Tia Fia-
My mom always told me to never make excuses. "Nobody cares", she'd always say as I'd tried to tell her why my room wasn't clean or my homework wasn't done, "Just get it done." So, while composing this entry, my internal maternal voice keeps rolling her eyes and yelling "NOBODY CARES" as I want to write, "but I didn't feel good", "my tummy is upset", "I feel so icky" in defense of my infrequent updates. It seems necessary to explain that I wanted to write, but just wasn't able. Because no excuses are forthcoming the only way I can adequately explain is to illustrate:




I've looked exactly like this for the last five weeks.

Although, there may be a light at the bottom of the toilet. I've only dry-heaved once this morning and yesterday! I had a friend over for brunch. It was an interaction that wasn't the cat or a co-worker and it was so much fun.


So, because I'm planning on feeling better this weekend I'm going to make Pozole and can't wait to post the recipe here.

Let me know what you've been cooking, what you're doing for Halloween, and how you're Dallas trip went ( I hope the cougars didn't eat you and muss up their hair).

Love,
T

P.S. Did you get yourself that chocolate bar and trashy magazine(s)?

That's What She Fed

Dear TT,

I love knowing that you, too, bribe yourself into productivity. So far today I have tried to appoint myself the future recipient of fancy lotion, an evening with J at Richmond's new hot spot, and $20 worth of new books. All to no avail. You see, by 7:15 tomorrow morning, I am supposed to be on a plane to Dallas to attend a family friend's wedding.

That's not going to happen, now. Because this is as far as I've gotten in packing:

That's right. Two saris. Both of which I will presumably wear without a blouse, underwear, shoes, or makeup. Apparently I will also not brush my teeth for three days, nor will I wash my face or brush my hair. As far as hanging out in Overdone Cougar, TX during the day? I've recently decided to become a nudist.

Why is it so hard to make oneself do things? I hate packing because of all of the stupid, little, necessary things that need to be accounted for. Deodorant. Night clothes. OPTIONS. I did anything I could today to avoid the tedium of packing: wandered the aisle of Target fingering Tweeny fashions I will never wear, got my entire face waxed and threaded, watched Peanut move half an inch in one hour, stalked my friends on Facebook, and considered just how creatively my mother is going to use curse words in her native Bengali when I call her to say that I can't make it to the wedding. Because I just. Couldn't. Finish. Packing.

The fact that J isn't home this evening because he has a soccer game doesn't help - normally I might be shamed into packing by his presence. Instead, I'm picking at my nails, shaking my head at celebrity fashion, and writing to you. At least I made dinner - though to be honest, that in and of itself was yet another form of procrastination.

We're at the end of our grocery supply for the week, so I could have made either peanut butter and black banana sandwiches, or something with canned tomatoes, rice, and turkey Andouille sausage. Since J gags at the thought of any kind of peanut butter miscegenation, I opted for the latter:

That's What She Fed Jambalaya

1 10-oz. can diced tomatoes
4-5 garlic cloves, minced
1 yellow onion, chopped
1-2 tbls olive oil
a little butter
2 c. long-grain white rice
1 12-oz. packet of turkey Andouille sausage, cut crosswise into thick slices
2 cups chicken stock
1-2 tsp. cayenne pepper, or other spices of your choice
1-2 tsp. smoked paprika

Heat olive oil and a little butter in a pot over medium heat. Brown sausage, about 4-5 minutes. Drain sausage on a plate covered with a paper towel. In the remaining fat, cook onions, about 5 minutes. Add garlic, and cook for a minute longer.

Dump tomatoes and chicken stock into pot, then stir to combine. Add spices, and cook for a minute longer. Add rice, then turn the heat up to high and bring mixture to a boil. Cover and reduce heat to low. Simmer for 25 minutes or until rice is cooked through. Add sausage to rice mixture and stir.

I made a big pot of it so J would have something to eat both after his soccer game and this weekend. It turned out not too terribly, though I had to doctor my serving with Sriracha and the last little bit of pepper jack cheese left in the fridge.

It is almost 9 PM now, and there is much to be done. In the course of writing you, I've decided to replace my $20 worth of books to a bar of chocolate and trashy magazines to read on the plane tomorrow.

Love you,

TF

Mom To The Rescue, But I Couln't Be Saved

Dear Tia Fia-

I love that you just stayed cozy in your house all weekend. I'm sure Peanut's cute cat chub is an excellent foot warmer. The past few weeks I too have been using my cats as warmers, friends and confidantes. I've spent so many hours in bed, under covers, and on the couch that I've brought our relationship (me and the cats) to a whole new level. I think that they are now considering me an honorary member of their pride.

The three of us, Leland, Pretty Girl Earl and me, are becoming so close that I've begun to find communication with humans difficult. Example- my mom calls me at about 1:15 p.m. yesterday. Instead of getting ready for work (which is what I'm supposed to be doing), I've got one cat on my head and one on my feet. Spending the last 10 minutes promising myself little gifts if I'd get up, I'd gone from ice cream to a pedi/mani by the time the phone rang. Then, when I heard my mom's voice, I started SOBBING. I know I given you no lead-up to explain the crying, but that's the point, there was NO reason for it. To account for my outburst, I blubber, "I've got all these veggies and I don't know what to do with them, they're so gross." My mom calmly asks what I've got and I'm all like," spaghetti squash, spinach, tomatoes, celery." And without even thinking about it she says,"just make a sauce with the tomatoes and spinach and cook the spaghetti squash and throw the sauce over it." And I'm all like,"that's genius" and I'm grumpy because I didn't think of it.

So- fast forward to later that night. I'm happily and with purpose making my tomato sauce with spinach over squash dish. And I'm doing the tomatoes just right, in fact tomatoes are one of the things I LOVE right now so I'm actually kinda enjoying this experience. I sauteed 3 diced cloves of garlic and then dumped 1 can of tomatoes in the pan. Then I added alot of olive oil, basil, oregano, salt and pepper. I let that simmer for awhile. After that I found some anchovies in the fridge, YAY! This stuff was tasting good. Time for the spinach. Rinse, chop, throw it in the pan. It's that easy, right?

Have you ever used spinach that wasn't bagged? F****! It needs something like laser removal to get all that dirt off. Right after I drop a ton of it in the pan and mix it in I take a bite. My heart drops- when I chew I can hear the grit grinding between my teeth. And then I make a decision. I still serve it to B.

This is how nice B is. He ate all of it and never said a word.
Ill-Fated Tomato Spinach Surprise.

1 Spaghetti Squash
3 cloves of garlic
1 can of tomatoes
glugs of olive oil
salt
pepper
oregano
basil
maybe some mint
maybe some anchovies
well-cleaned spinach; preferably bagged

1. To prepare the squash. Pre-heat the oven to 350 degrees. Poke holes all over the squash. Put squash in oven for 1 hour. Afterwards let squash sit until it's cool enough to touch. Cut longways in half. Scoop out the seeds. Then, take fork and scrape at meat in squash. It will shred and look a little like spaghetti.

2. For sauce: Heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a pan. Use garlic press on cloves and saute them for about 30 seconds. Dump in can of diced tomatoes. Put your choice of flavorings in pan. Let simmer for about 20 minutes. At end toss in chopped spinach or whatever green you have on hand. Put on top of shredded squash. Voila. Dinner.

Love you. Gotta go.
T

The Breast Things in Life

Dear TT,

Happy anniversary! I can't believe it's been five years since we ate that amazing barbecue and that cake decorated with fruit and pearls at your wedding. Count on me to remember little else but the food. Okay, I do also remember how beautiful you looked in your dress, and how dashing B looked as he took your hand and walked you back down the aisle.

Who would have known then that five years later you'd be writing your sister-in-law about your huge breasts being personified by your husband as strange, possibly demonic creatures with minds of their own? Certainly not I. But now you know how I feel, carrying those damned heavy creatures around all day.

But you probably don't want to hear about that as much as you want to hear about what I cooked for dinner last night. Richmond has a known diagnosis of bipolar weather disorder, so it was of little surprise when the city's too-warm autumn mania abruptly gave way this week to a deep, wintry depressive episode.

It's been in the 40s and dreary for almost an entire week now, and in addition to Febreeze-ing my musty sweaters and (finally) submitting my Fulbright application, this weekend I've been cozying up a lot to J and the cat. They're both easy to be around, enjoy couch-sitting, like it when I feed them, and are clumsy but effective foot-warmers.

As you can see, Miss Peanut is fattening herself up for Thanksgiving. Don't her haunches look like turkey legs? Contrary to Peanut, I wanted to eat something light but filling, and I wanted to get rid of the arugula (arugula glut!) and tomatoes in our fridge that were on their last legs. Everyday Italian was the perfect go-to cookbook: Giada de Laurentiis's arugula pesto was yummy both for bread-dipping and when tossed with angel hair pasta and roasted tomatoes.

Capellini with Arugula Pesto and Roasted Tomatoes (adapted from Everyday Italian by Giada de Laurentiis)

For pesto:

2 cups fresh arugula
2 garlic cloves
1/2 c. olive oil
1/2 c. freshly grated Parmesan cheese
salt and pepper

For roasted tomatoes:

plum tomatoes, cut in half
olive oil
salt

Heat oven to 350 F. Cover a cookie sheet with foil. Toss tomatoes on cookie sheet with a few grounds of sea salt and a couple of glugs of olive oil, then place in oven for 40-60 minutes. Check on tomatoes every now and again as they might burn. Tomatoes are done when they're kind of shriveled up looking.

While tomatoes are roasting, blend arugula and garlic in a food processor until finely chopped. Add olive oil while pulsing until well blended. Transfer the pesto to a large bowl, and make your husband grate the parmesan cheese into it. Add salt and pepper to taste, and stir.

Follow the directions to make the pasta of your choice. Drain, then toss hot pasta into bowl of pesto until evenly coated. Plate pasta, then top with 4-6 roasted tomatoes and freshly grated parmesan cheese. Twirl on fork. Eat. Repeat.

It didn't hurt to have snacks to nibble on while we waited for the tomatoes to roast:

All in all, it was a lovely, quiet evening, in stark contrast to this afternoon's loud neighbors freaking out about whatever football game they're watching. To answer your questions about the Fulbright: I don't know. I guess I feel something approximating relief, though that's not quite right either. Right before I clicked the all-powerful "Submit Application" button, I didn't take a deep breath, pray, or cross my fingers. I just got up afterwards and poured myself another cup of coffee.

I've decided since I don't hear anything until January 31st that either I will a) drive myself crazy worrying about it incessantly (a likely possibility, since I'm a masochist) or b) forget I ever applied until January 31st, at which time I will either be happily or unhappily surprised by an email besides the usual spam in my inbox.

Either way, I'm excited about seeing you in Philly soon - one of J's co-workers used to live there, and she's putting together a list for us of restaurants to visit. We'll take lots of food-gasmic pictures and coo about baby clothes!

Hope y'all had a good rest of the weekend - how did you make that whipped cream look so purty?

Love,

Tia F.

Happy Anniversary

Dear Tia Fia-

Did you get that Fulbright application complete? When do you hear back? I just know I'm going to be visiting you in Bangladesh next summer. I can't believe the whole process is about to be done, do you feel a little let down and depressed or jubilant?

I think I'm going to have to send B to you for the next three weeks. He positively drooled over your chili. Poor thing, every time I make him something he douses it in ketchup, ranch dressing, or Siracha. For the first time in my life, I identify with those skinny little girls that pick at their food- I have no interest, I don't care to cook and when I do I take no time with it. Yuck. Although he might be reticent to leave because my cooking isn't the only thing that's changed.

I have HUGE breasts. Tia Fia, my prayers have been answered about 17 years too late. My little shirts no longer fit (I don't think my sugar-induced tummy is helping that much) and when wearing them I look like a sausage with outrageous boobs stuck in a turquoise v-neck. Really. Then, at night, when I unleash the monsters from their too small brassiere B takes one glance at my pendulous Tatas and starts screaming "they're ALIVE!, they're Alive! AHHHH!" and runs from the room. I've convinced myself that he is only being funny.

With all the growing going on, I almost forgot that today is our five-year anniversary. For B, I'm going to pick up a bottle of wine- a habit I stopped when he knocked me up. For me, I made pudding. I planned on attempting homemade from this recipe, but with all the intricate instructions it seemed akin to the scientific knowledge needed for baking and I just couldn't handle that. So, I just picked up a box of instant in the baking aisle instead.





Anyway, I miss you and I wish we could hang out in person this weekend. Only five weeks 'till Philly! See you soon and let me know about your weekend.

Love,
Tia Tay

T-T-T-Tia!

Tia T -

Oh. My. God. Girl. I'm going to be an actual tia! Tia Fia! And you, a mamacita! I'm so excited I can't stand it. Can't. Stand. It!! Words can't possibly convey how happy I am for you and B. I wish I could be there to help make your cinnamon toast and bark orders at you to stop lifting heavy things! to lie down, because, for pete's sake, if you won't put a wet rag on your head and lie down, I'll do it for you!

Actually, being in a dark room with a wet rag on my head sounds pretty delightful. I might do that forthwith. Right after I revise! For the last time! My Fulbright application!

I've had a lot of coffee. And I'm excited about little Arroz. So forgive the exclamation points.

I love the idea of Arroz demanding food befitting childhood. I must admit, I love all of those foodstuffs you listed, and will add to them a strong fondness for slices of American cheese wrapped in plastic, microwavable packets of apple and cinnamon oatmeal, Kix, and Tang.

I have so many questions! When you wake up from your sleep binges, do you feel rested or still really tired? How long is the morning sickness part supposed to last? Are you really only sick in the morning? Would you get sick at the sight of this?

It was cold and rainy yesterday, and I could think of nothing better to do than to dust off my faded, fleecy hoodie, make a cup of hot tea, and let simmer ground beef with bell pepper, kidney beans, tomato puree, and spices while I took notes towards some new poems and worked on my Fulbright application.

Because J has a strong aversion to beans, I invited my friend Marie to help me eat steaming bowls of chili and cornbread after we both did this grueling workout class. When I tell you that I hobbled through Richmond today like a woman three times my age, I am not exaggerating.

Although apparently I didn't need Marie's help (though of course it was appreciated), since J came home from class and shockingly, SHOCKINGLY, put down an entire bowl of it. Just imagining it again makes me want to weep with gladness...

Simple Beef Chili (adapted from Cook's Illustrated)

(makes 4-6 servings)

1-2 tablespoons vegetable or corn oil
1 medium onion, chopped fine
1 red bell pepper, cut into 1/2 inch cubes
4-6 medium cloves of garlic, minced
1/4 cup chili powder
1 tbs ground cumin
1-2 tsp each of coriander, red pepper flakes, dried oregano, and cayenne pepper (more of the cayenne and red pepper if you want it spicier)
1 lb lean ground beef
1 15-oz can kidney beans, drained and rinsed
1 15-oz can tomato puree
1 15-oz can diced tomatoes (Ro-Tel would probably be tasty as well)
salt, to taste

Heat oil in large heavy-bottomed nonreactive Dutch oven over medium heat until shimmering but not smoking, 3 to 4 minutes. Add onions, bell pepper, garlic, chili powder, cumin, coriander, pepper flakes, oregano, and cayenne; cook, stirring occasionally, until vegetables are softened and beginning to brown, about 10 minutes. Increase heat to medium-high and add half the beef; cook, breaking up pieces with wooden spoon, until no longer pink and just beginning to brown, 3 to 4 minutes. Add remaining beef and cook, breaking up pieces with wooden spoon, until no longer pink, 3 to 4 minutes.

Add beans, tomatoes, tomato puree, and a few more pinches of salt; bring to boil, then reduce heat to low and simmer, covered, stirring occasionally, for 1 hour. Remove cover and continue to simmer 1 hour longer, stirring occasionally (if chili begins to stick to bottom of pot, stir in 1/2 cup water and continue to simmer), until beef is tender and chili is dark, rich, and slightly thickened. Adjust seasoning with additional salt.

I topped the chili with pepper jack, though you could put so many delicious things in its place: avocado, fresh tomatoes, cheddar. What I loved about this recipe was how pantry-friendly it was; I only had to buy the beef!

I officially have a strong craving for cinnamon toast, so you'll excuse me. But before I attend to that, I just wanted to say that I love you, that I'm so happy for you and B, and that I can't wait to be (officially!) a tia.

Love,

Tia F.

Oohh! Baby Baby.

Dear Tia Fia-

Here's why I haven't written:

green beans = a gag.
strong cheeses = heavy dry heaving.
any type of herb = retching.
coffee= get it the F away from me unless you want vomit on your lap.
eggs, poultry, red meat= me running to the bathroom where B kindly holds my hair back while I spew all over the toilet.

We're having alot of fun now!

Because I'm, TADA( imagine jazz hands), 8 weeks pregnant. To help bring our little Arroz along, my body is raging with large amounts of progesterone and estrogen. These lovely hormones have reduced my palate to that of a five-year-old's. I only eat fruit (oranges), bread, creamy dairy products, mac and cheese, and Gatorade. Oh, and Saltines are like a gift from the Gods.

Not only have my food preferences changed, but I'm now sleeping about 16 hours a day. This morning I went on a 30 minute walk- when I got home I had to sleep for TWO hours. My new sleeping patterns are getting in the way of everything- I can't even go to the library without stopping at a park bench for a short nap.

So whenever I eat it has to be something fast and something I can stomach. I haven't eaten my Mom's cinnamon toast since I've grown up, but this morning it really fit the bill.


Mom's Cinnamon Toast
2 slices of bread
butter (enough to cover both slices)
sugar
cinnamon

1) Set the stove to broil. Spread bread slices with butter. Sprinkle cinnamon and sugar on top. Place under broiler. Wait and check every 30 seconds. Things burn fast!

I hope you're doing well! I saw your Texas Trip pictures and it looked like you were having alot of fun. Let me know how you're doing. I promise I won't take so long to write back.

Love,
TT

P.S. You're going to be a real TIA! Yeah!

The Girl with the Most Cupcake

Dear Tia T -

I can't wait to hear about your eating adventures in California! In Richmond, it's dreary and humid, so I'm completely jealous of whatever kind of gorgeous weather you're experiencing out there.

I just got back from Texas late last week, bearing with me an unexpected present given to me by my little brother: the flu. Fortunately, it wasn't of the freakishly strong oink-oink variety, so after a few days of exhaustion and copious amounts of Emergen-C laden orange juice sucked through bendy straws, I'm finally back to my normal schedule of eating, cooking, and writing.

While I was in Texas, though, I totally made good use of my access to amazing Tex-Mex:

migas at Magnolia South


(crispy beef tacos at the new Northside Grill in Canyon Lake)

I obviously did go to Magnolia, as you correctly predicted I might, and Polvo's too, though I forgot to take pictures there because I was so overcome at the sight of my enchiladas de la casa. I also had a wonderful visit with my friend Kate and her adorable daughter, so much so that I'm officially adding baby cheeks to my list of favorite things to eat with cupcakes:

(cupcake courtesy of Flipnotics)

Though you have, perhaps rightly so, observed that I'm a horrible person to share dessert with because I eat less than my fair share, I sucked that thing down like the barbarians were upon me right after this picture was taken. Thankfully, I'm back to my reasonably sized meals, which hopefully means soon I will be my reasonably sized self again as well. With that in mind, Sunday's dinner was judiciously healthy, but tasty. I think you could do this with chicken as well as fish, though you might have to brown the chicken boobies on the stove first.

Salmon Baked in Foil (adapted from Everyday Italian by Giada de Laurentis - why does she get to eat gnocchi and be so thin?)

1 can diced tomatoes in juice, drained
one small red onion, chopped
2 tablespoons olive oil
the juice of one lemon
1 teaspoon dried Herbs de Provence (Giada recommends fresh oregano and thyme, though, which would probably be as good if not better)
salt and pepper to taste
2 salmon fillets

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. In a medium bowl, stir tomatoes, onions, oil, lemon juice, and herbs.

In the center of each of two large sheets of aluminum foil, drizzle a little additional olive oil. Place 1 salmon fillet atop each sheet of foil and turn to coat with the oil. Sprinkle the salmon fillets with salt and pepper, then spoon the tomato mixture over the salmon.

Fold the sides of the foil over the fish and tomato mixture, covering completely, and seal the packets closed. Place the foil packets on a large, heavy baking sheet.

Bake until salmon is just cooked through, about 25 minutes. Open the packets and take a picture:

then serve with spinach wilted in butter and garlic.

Can't wait to hear from you -

Love to you and B,

TF

Irresponsibility, Both Predicted and Fulfilled

Dear TT,

I forgot to bring the cord that connects my camera to the computer, so I won't be able to post any of the foodgasmic pics I've taken on my Texas trip until I get back home to Richmond! And I'm scrambling to get my Fulbright stuff in (AGAIN, arrgghhh) by Friday. But I promise to write soon.

Despite all that, I wanted to wish you and B the best of times in California - can't wait to hear all about the fabulous meals and adventures you have!

More soon, and much love,

TF

World Travel

Dear Tia Fia-
How was Austin? Where did you go- Polvos, Magnolia Cafe for the Mag Mud, Guero's for the margaritas? My mom was thrilled that y'all went to visit her; she told me she had so much fun playing with the baby.

B and I are preparing for our trip to California tomorrow morning. Somehow he agreed to pack the bags while I wrote this letter. I think he hopes that in return I can calm down and maybe wrangle some of my free-floating anxiety into submission.

I love to travel, but I have a hard time believing things will go smoothly. It is my strongly held personal belief that if I do not wake up in the same bed, at the same time, drink coffee from the same cup, touch my nose to the glass table a certain way when the cat meows that my life will going spinning out of control. These life-out-of-control fears cover a broad spectrum. Ranging from the mundane to the fantastic, each worry has an explicit daymare to illustrate the havoc or sadness it would bring to my life. The following concerns have all found me in the last 24 hours:

1. Fire. The cat leaps onto the stove, accidentally turns it on, and then runs around the house in fear lighting furniture on fire with its tail.
2. The plane will crash.
3. I will lose my job because they didn't actually take me off the schedule.
4. Pretty Girl Earl (who has alot of hairballs) will choke while we aren't here and we will not be able to save her.
5. Somehow that fantastic meal I ate out will cause me to bloat so much that I won't be able to wear any of the clothes I brought for the trip and I'll have to run to Wal-Mart for a sweatsuit.
6. Our apartment will be burglarized. (This one doesn't bother me much- we don't have anything to steal.)

There you go. I'm completely normal. Right? So with all these worries, I don't have much brain space to plan meals- meaning, this evening found me staring at 2 lone chicken breasts, frozen peas, a box of macaroni and cheese, a tomato and a cucumber. Put it all together and what do you get?


YUM. Kinda.

Gotta go. It's late and we've got an early flight. I can't wait to hear about Austin.

Love
Tia Tay

Self-Absorption

Dear Tia Fia-

So I just got done reading your letter. While reading, I took the liberty to infer your reasons for feeling bad. "I know why she's down", I think to myself. " She's in a transitional state. Will she be awarded the Fulbright or will those Fulbright people make an idiotic mistake and reject her? Will she get to jump up and down with glee or does she have to revise her plans and take another go at it?" I'm thinking all of this and then suddenly it hits me SMACK! (that's the sound of my palm hitting my forehead) I'm not thinking about you I thinking about myself!

Ashamed that I had the audacity to psycho-analyze others, I had to lie down and put a cold rag on my forehead. A trick taught to me from my mom, a cold rag can be a balm for a wide range of ailments. It helps with hangovers, a 103-degree fever, or to provide the illusion of sickness when wanting to avoid certain chores.

This particular solace under the washcloth helped me realize I am in no state to craft complex meals requiring difficult instructions. It is a period for simple no-nonsense stuff that can be easily re-heated when I get home from work, it's time again for Casserole Crazy: Hot Stuff For Your Oven.

Because I still had eggplant left over from my first CSA Surprise! and I wanted to hide the texture and taste I chose this recipe:

Eggplant Casserole



2 cups of cornmeal
2 cups of water (or broth)
1 jar tomato sauce
2 eggplants
3 eggs
1 cup of ricotta
1 cup of cream
1/2 cup of parmesan
Enough fontina or mozzarella to cover the top of the casserole

1) Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Bring to a boil the two cups of water or, if you don't want to be a vegetarian, the broth. When water is boiling dump in the 2 cups of cornmeal. Stir together, off of the heat, until everything is mixed in and not lumpy. Set aside until cool and thick.

2) Slice eggplant. If you don't like the flavor make it very small. Heat a large pan with olive oil and then fry the eggplant in batches. Make sure to flip the eggplant to each side so both sides are brown. Flavor with salt and pepper as you go along.

3) In a separate bowl, mix 2 eggs, 1 cup of cream, 1 cup of ricotta (if finances don't allow use cottage cheese) and some Parmesan. Mix together.

4) Open bottle of tomato sauce.

5) Mix into prepared cornmeal (really it's polenta) 1 egg and some Parmesan. Make sure to add some salt and pepper. Spread into the bottom of your casserole dish. Then spread a layer of your eggplant down. Next goes the cheese mixture and then a layer of the tomato sauce. You used all of your polenta with the first spreading, so starting with the eggplant do the whole thing again. Everything should be used up and you top the whole thing with the mozzarella. Put in oven for 45 minutes to an hour. Covered. After the hour, remove lid and brown cheese on top to your liking. I like mine really browned and chewy, but others like theirs just melted. It is up to you.

This casserole was great because the eggplant was well hidden. J might even go for it if you don't tell him the ingredients.

Well, I keep wanting to say I hope you feel better soon, but that's not quite right. If you're writing alot and you like the results this period of introspection and seeing the world in a new way is probably kinda good. I'm not trying to sound insensitive, I just don't have the adequate vocabulary.

I can't wait for updates on your Austin trip. I hope you have so much fun.

Love,
Tia T

P.S. I've turned B into one of Pavlov's dogs. Every time he hears the camera click he asks in anticipation "dinner's ready?" Even if I'm just taking pictures of the cat.

Moody Stews

Dear Tia T -

I've been having one of those weeks where I feel so raw the slightest thing could catapult me into sobbing into my soggy morning cereal (is there anything worse?), so I was thrilled to have your most recent letter distract me into laughter. I did, of course, immediately ask J what planet parmesan was from, and he, of course, immediately smuckled and said "Uranus." Ain't it grand when the right questions have the right answers?

I do two things when I feel raw: I write poetry, listen to sad music (how cliche, right?), and obsess over food. Okay, to be fair, I do those things anyway (especially the latter), but there's a particular kind of force that I feel barreling through me that leads to some furious writing and and cooking. I feel suddenly awake and affected by every little thing I see - every little thing seems to remind me how simultaneously beautiful and awful the world can be. It reminds me, actually, of how you and your mother pay attention to plants and flowers as y'all move through the world - each petal and stem and leaf matter, and each have their own unique way of being present in the world. I've learned from y'all that plants are certainly more than just garnish along a city sidewalk.

So a couple of afternoons ago, I was writing at home and thinking about what to make for dinner. I wanted something bold, filling, comforting - something that would rise rich in the air, something tangible. I also wanted to make use of 2 pounds of chuck roast J bought, inexplicably, while I was in Brooklyn, and the last of the peppers that my friend Keith had given us.

I found this recipe on a Texas Monthly message board, and it totally fit the bill. The stew did fill the air with deliciousness all afternoon and early evening, and staved off, thankfully, more self-deprecating behavior. I served it alongside a spinach and bell pepper salad and some leftover parathas. It was a nice East meets West kind of meal - I felt like I was honoring both my heritages at once. It also warmed up really nicely, so J and I ate on it the rest of the week without once getting tired of it.

Also, I wanted to tell you - my Kentucky friend M is in town for the weekend, and I knew he was going to drag all the boys into a long night/morning of poker, so I decided to make a couple of those delicious looking beef and spinach pies you made to sustain their erstwhile efforts. The girls came along too and we stayed in and chatted after they left for their game, making it two! official girls' nights in between the two of us. Represent!

Your soup looks absolutely delicious, and perfect for both my recent obsession with slow cooking and the onslaught of cooler weather. I love the idea of a submerged sprig of rosemary - how cool a word is sprig, by the way? I wish we could have sat in your lovely apartment next to the window and dipped chunks of bread into it together.

By the way, I feel as though I should apologize for how depressing my recent letters have been - I'll be in Texas next week, so hopefully I'll be blogging about being cheered up by some serious Tex-Mex instead. My friend Kate is meeting me in Austin with her baby girl - be prepared for some serious baby gushing. Any ideas of baby-friendly places or things to do while we're there?

Hope your injury is better too - I'd advise using it as an excuse to B not to wash dishes - it might get infected!

Much love,

Tia F.

Big Bros and Spaghetti

Dear Tia Fia,

I've heard childhood memories are different for each sibling, but apparently J and I share the spaghetti one. Ask him this for me, "What planet is Parmesan from?" If he answers "Uranus" with a doubled-up belly laugh he's for sure my bro. His joke was a favorite repeat on nights my mom labored over her seriously good spaghetti sauce. Ignoring the joke and the green-canned Parmesan, spaghetti nights were always a plus because they made me feel more sophisticated and loved than our jarred-sauce-eating rube neighbors. Now though I join them- not once have I ever made homemade spaghetti sauce. Hanging my head in shame, I hope to redeem myself by making your recipe. It looks easy and yummy.

As a Texas native, I've been pleasantly surprised that Fall is my favorite season. In the past, it's been marked only by school opening and Friday Night Football- a sweaty event with everyone wearing their new autumn school clothes and the temp still reaching 90 degrees. In Chicago, I look forward to the leaves changing, the actual need for a sweater, and being able to cook a soup without my kitchen getting too hot.

Not for dinner, but to reheat for lunches and snacks I enjoyed my cool kitchen by making this soup last night. The recipe calls for kale, but because I have excess arugula I just threw a whole bunch of that in.





Tuscan Bean Soup (adapted from Cook's Illustrated Website)



1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil, plus extra for drizzling
6 ounces of pancetta, cut up (I always use bacon)
1 large onion, chopped
2 medium celery ribs, chopped
2 medium carrots, peeled and chopped
8 medium garlic cloves, minced
3 cups of chicken broth
2 cups of water
4 (15-ounce) cans cannellini beans, drained and rinsed well
2 medium bay leaves
1 (15-ounce) can diced tomatoes, drained and rinsed
1 pound kale or collard greens (I've used lots of different types including spinach and arugula)
1 sprig fresh rosemary



1. Heat oil and pancetta in Dutch oven over medium heat. Cook, stirring occasionally until pancetta is lightly browned and fat rendered, 6 to 10 minutes. Add onion, celery, and carrots. Cook, stirring occasionally, until vegetables are softened and slightly browned, 10 -16 minutes. Stir in garlic and cook until fragrant, about 1 minute. Stir in broth, water, beans, bay leaves, tomatoes, and greens. Increase heat to high and bring to simmer. Reduce heat and simmer until veggies and greens are full tender. 20-25 minutes.



2. Remove pot from stove and submerge rosemary in stew. Cover and let stand for 15 minutes. Discard bay leaves and rosemary. Season with salt and pepper. If desired, use back of spoon to press some beans against side of pot to thicken stew. Serve lightly drizzled with olive oil.

I hope you're lip is doing better. I'd advise to stay away from chips and salsa. We'd make a great team. I too am injured after having a little accident with the vegetable peeler. It slipped when I was trying to peel Granny Smiths and ended up peeling my skin off.

I hope you're having a great day.

Love,
TT

Borrowed Childhoods

Dear Tia T -

The awkward purgatory between summer and fall always leaves me feeling strangely bereft and filled with longing for something I don't understand and can't name. I think part of it is the schizophrenic weather we've been having: super-warm days followed by lightly cool ones. Perhaps it's also that I'm accustomed, still, to the feeling of a school year. As a child, summers seemed endless, indolent, filled with fat novels I couldn't wait to read. It always ended more quickly than I expected, and ever since I graduated from grad school in May, I've been dreading the end of this particular summer, because it's the last one I'll have as a student.

What's fall like in Chicago? I know it's already cooler there, and I'm envious. Though it's still warm here, already the evenings are darkening earlier and earlier, the leaves are beginning to color, and I am drawn more and more to slow cooking, hoping to force fall into its leaf-swirling, cardigan- and scarf-wearing potential.

Apparently, I'm in too much of a hurry for fall to get here, because I fell down the stairs in our apartment building and busted my lip open this past weekend. Though impossible to eat elegantly or pain-free with a busted lip, I wanted, for some reason, spaghetti: plain old, tomato sauce-laden spaghetti. Food of childhoods, of a pot filled with magic stirred and simmered and stirred some more.

Except my mother never really made spaghetti. I realized this when J and I sat down to eat, and I said, "This really takes me back." Except, it didn't really. When I thought about it, I ate South Asian food at home, almost always. I must have eaten it at friends' houses, or in the cafeteria, but I don't actually remember any specific time when I ate a bowl of spaghetti as a child...but what about the pot, and the smell in the air, and the children's voices, and the wooden spoon tipped with red sauce? Stuff of dreams (though J, apparently, has memories of y'all's mother making spaghetti sauce that way, so maybe I just borrowed his) and Ragu commercials. Who says advertising doesn't work?

Anyway, made-up childhood aside, this sauce tasted pretty magical, though it's a more grownup version of what I "remember" eating as a child. Fall, take notice! Slow cooking season has arrived.

Adult-erated Tomato Sauce (adapted from Giada de Laurentis' Everyday Italian)

2 tbls olive oil
1 onion, chopped
2-3 cloves of garlic, minced
1-2 pinches crushed red pepper flakes
1-2 pinches dried sweet basil (though you could use any amenable herb)
1 28-oz can tomato puree or crushed tomatoes
3-4 ripe tomatoes, chopped (optional, but my friend Katie gave me some from her garden that were about to go bad, so I thought I'd throw them in there)
1/2 c. pecorino romano
salt and pepper, to taste
1-2 tbls unsalted butter

1. Cook onion and garlic in olive oil until soft. Add crushed red pepper flakes and dried or fresh herbs; cook until fragrant.

2. Pour in tomato puree and a few glugs of cooking wine, chopped tomatoes, and let simmer all afternoon, stirring occasionally.

3. When almost ready to serve, stir in pecorino romano, and let sit for a few minutes.

4. Stir in butter until melted. Pour over spaghetti. Swirl onto fork and try to avoid getting tomato sauce in the open wound on your lip.

It would have been great to have some of your arugula for a salad to accompany the pasta! I'm going to think about what else you could use arugula for besides that marvelous looking pizza - inspired, perhaps, by that amazing pizza place near your house you took us to this past spring? I love arugula because it's so peppery, and I can't imagine a single recipe that calls for fresh spinach that you couldn't renovate with arugula.

We haven't gotten our CSA stuff yet, but when we do, I'll let you know. J, the economist, was also reluctant (birds of a feather, you eggplant haters, you), but I think I brought him around. (It's good and good for you! It's actually cheaper than our usual groceries! I'll make it worth our while, I promise!) Though if there are lots of eggplants and cantaloupes, I may have a problem, since J isn't a fan of either.

Oh, also - the idea of a CAT fills me with joy and delight. I want to go to there, please! Let's make that happen. When I was in NY, we mainly ate in Brooklyn, which was so fun because I was born there but have never had a chance to really explore it. The pics: 1) tapas at this place 2) brunch at this place (I was so starved for good Mexican food that, yes, I ate Mexican food in NYC - the chilaquiles, I promise you, were divine) 3) and finally, a sampling of West Indies delights at the Brooklyn West Indian Carnival, a mere 5-minute walk away from my friend Laurel's place.

I'm anxious to hear from you about what else you're doing with that arugula - I'll let you know if I find something fun to make with it. Hope you and B are well, and much love to you both -

-TF

Arugula Glut

Dear Tia Fia,
Your pictures from New York look amazing- I am SO jealous. Did you go to a favorite restaurant? Eat in China Town? I'm dying to know. Maybe the two of us should organize a Culinary Adventure Trip (CAT) and go! We'll say it's a business expense and eat our little hearts out.

Have I ever told you that B is really into things like sustainable gardening, organic fruits and veggies, and eating from local/regional producers? And that, on the other hand, I really like CHEAP? Politics in our house get tricky as I debate in realistic (B just asked me to change that to "short-sighted") terms like "Have you seen our bank account?" and B debates from the lofty idealistic "what's better for the whole of us is better than what's good for the two of us" stance.
In October we'll hit our 5 year anniversary, so we'll have had this argument for, oh let's see, 4 1/2 years.

Now I'm thanking you from the bottom of my stingy little heart, your mention of a CSA saved B and me from at least ONE perpetual row. We looked close to home and found Farmer Tom's. For 24 bucks a week we get a 1/2 bushel of organic fruits and vegetables that've been grown by a local farmer. The one down side- that 1/2 bushel is a grab bag and you don't know what you're going to get. This week was our first CSA Surprise and it included apples, pears, cantaloupe, eggplant, broccoli, potatoes, tomatoes, nanners, and parsnips.



And 2 POUNDS of arugula.



What do you do with that much? I mean the peppery bitter green is good, but I can't eat that many salads in a week. I guess I'm thinking a soup, frozen pestos, and this pizza:


Prosciutto Pizza with Arugula
2 par baked personal sized doughs
1/4 pound of prosciutto thinly sliced
4 slices of provolone
olive oil (if you have it use truffle oil on the arugula instead of olive oil)
garlic
as much arugula as you can stand
Parmesan
salt
pepper
red pepper flakes according to taste


Preheat oven to 400. First, mix minced garlic with some olive oil- brush over pizza crust. Lay prosciutto over pizza crust (1/4 pound was enough to cover both my par bakes, but you could use more or less). Cut up provolone into matchsticks (I used 2 thin slices per pizza) and arrange evenly over the pizza. You don't want it like a traditional pizza- just the suggestion of cheese.
Place in oven for 6-7 minutes.

While pizzas cook, mix arugula, Parmesan, a glug of olive oil, and salt and pepper in a bowl- like it's a salad. ( You could add lemon. I wanted to, but B had thrown mine away earlier in the day.) When pizzas are done (cheese just melted) just place the arugula on top so that it covers the prosciutto so much you can't see it. Use red pepper flakes to your discretion.

If you have any ideas for arugula please send them and what are you getting in your CSA Surprise?

Love,
TT

Postscript

Tia T -

Those are bitter melons. I had to ask my mom what they were in English, because I know them as "teeta karala." My mom likes to slice them in half lengthwise, then again into little moons, if that makes sense. She then cooks them with olive oil, spices and potatoes until they're crisp and until I mix them into a big pile of white rice and eat the sh** out of them.

But now I'm interested in how else they might be prepared...I'll do some looking and asking around!

L,

TF

No Sleep 'Til Brooklyn

Dear Ms. Tay,

After a whirlwind weekend in New York, I'm ready for a night in myself. I'm a little too frazzled at the moment (laundry! unpacking! what will i make for dinner? what will i eat for lunch? oh, god, we don't have anything to eat but frozen chicken thighs. is that a banana? yes! oh. no. grocery store first, or gym first? laundry! unpacking! reading in bed...no, bad tia fia.), but I thought you might like to see some gastronomic highlights from my trip:







I'll write more later. I hope all is well with you...fall is almost here! I can smell it, feel it in my bones.

Love you,

TF

Girl's Night In

Dear Ms. TF
Oh Girl, you don't have to tell me about four different laundry receptacles. My most favorite is the corner that holds balled-up damp towels employed for face shaving. It's carefully hidden behind the bathroom door and is usually discovered when I'm scrubbing the floor. That would be semi-okay (meaning not yell worthy), but it's always the good towels- the ones saved for COMPANY. Seriously, the only reason I don't actually BUFAD (break up for a day) is that B is the ONE who does the laundry. For this reason I get down on my knees, thank God and then go make dinner-

I baked a toothsome Beef and Spinach Pie this evening. Not allowing the pedestrian name fool me, I chose it from the cookbook Casserole Crazy: Hot Stuff for Your Oven by Emily Farris. A gift in the mail from my Mom, I've always turned to it when I want something "oh so good, but bad for you".

B was late at work and was going out for drinks afterward- so I wanted to make something new, something that I'd love, and something that would taste good to B after he had been drinking. Also, I was hoping that I could mix it all together, stick it in the oven and then watch an episode of My So-Called Life while it cooked. It worked out exactly as I wanted.

Beef and Spinach Pie
1 pre-made 9-inch frozen pastry
1/2 large white onion
2 garlic cloves
2 tablespoons of olive oil
1/2 cup sliced baby portobello mushrooms
1/2 pound lean ground sirloin
pinch of cayenne powder
pinch plus an extra of chili powder
1 teaspoon of oregano
salt and pepper
1 cup of pureed tomatoes
2 tablespoons of fresh chopped basil
3/4 cup of frozen chopped spinach, thawed and drained
1/2 cup ricotta
1 cup shredded mozzarella cheese

Pre-heat oven to 400 degrees F.

Bake pie shells according to package directions. I used whole wheat 365 brand.

In a large skillet over medium heat, saute the onion and garlic in the olive oil until the onions are translucent. Add the mushrooms, beef, cayenne, chili powder, oregano, and salt and pepper to taste. When the beef is cooked through, add the tomatoes and 1 tablespoon of the basil. Set the heat to high and cook stirring occasionally, until the sauce is boiling, then reduce heat to low. Let simmer 5 to 10 minutes.

In medium bowl, mix the spinach, ricotta (I used cottage cheese because it's cheaper and better for you) and 1/2 cup of the mozzarella. Spoon the spinach mixture evenly into the bottom of each cooled crust, then cover evenly with the meat sauce. Top with the remaining mozzarella and basil. Bake, uncovered, for 35 to 40 minutes or until the mozzarella begins to brown and the pie is hot throughout.

Let stand 5 to 10 minutes before serving.


Sadly, we didn't have leftovers and I had to take veggies for my brown bag lunch instead of a piece of pie.

I will send you a surprise in the mail if you can tell me what these are? and what do you do with them?


B needs the computer so I gotta go. Let me know when the application process is over. B and I just started our "Bangladesh Here We Come" savings account.

Love,
TT