Indian-Spiced Potato Samosas with Curry Lime Yogurt

My favorite part of any meal is the appetizer.   For some reason, these small tasting portions hold a spell over me, tempting me from the left side of the menu to abandon the large entrees on the right and run away together.  Be it a relish tray, appetizer, tapas, tasting menu, amuse bouche, or any other small-plate derivative, if it comes before the main course I'm dying to have a love affair with it.

I think the love comes from the smaller size - for, logically, if it's smaller than an entree I need to eat more of them.  Thus, I get to try more food, instead of being stuck with just one type of food on my plate.  Gluttony, it seems, knows no bounds.  Of course, with the way serving sizes have grown exponentially, an appetizer from a restaurant is usually more than enough food for a normal person's meal.  Even a not-so-normal person like me.

But aside from their adding more food to a meal, appetizers have a different sort of feel than a main course.  They're smaller, more playful.  Many are made to be eaten with fingers, so wrapped up in a pastry or on a stick. Dolloped with sauce or dipped into a bowl, they're just more FUN than big food.

Because of this fascination with appetizer foods, I have tons of recipes bookmarked to try.  Problem is...i just don't make appetizers in my day-to-day life.  And who does?  I'm going to come home from work and assemble a ton of mini crab cakes before making dinner?  NO.

So when C asked me to bring an appetizer to her dinner party on Saturday, I just about leapt with joy.  Finally the excuse I've been craving - I get to make a finger food!  Whatever one I want!  And I can eat as many of them as I want before I go to the party too!

Scanning through the bookmarks, I was instantly drawn to a Cooking Light makeover of samosas, the traditional Indian snack.  Typically filled with curried potatoes and peas, then deep-fried and served with chutney, Samosas seem exotic but are a food common across many cultures - dumplings.  And who doesn't like a dumpling!?  This version replaced deep-fried dough with phyllo dough, keeping the crunch while removing the calories.  I made many tweaks on the spices, potatoes, and amounts, but otherwise stuck fairly close to the recipe as written.  I also decided that any finger food worth its salt needs a dip, so I combined some curry and lime with greek yogurt for a cooling, different twist.

Maybe because the three couples at the party with us are about the nicest people on earth, but these samosas got rave reviews.  I almost wish I had been a shadester and stolen the leftover dumplings to take them back home with me...but knowing that our kind hosts got to have an extra helping is more important.  Besides, I have another roll of phyllo dough in the freezer and no scruples to stop me from making another batch.

Grandma's Thanksgiving Rolls

My mom's family has a theory about Thanksgiving: you must spend at least a week prior to the holiday "training" your stomach.  By eating too much in the days leading up to Thanksgiving, your stomach will be adequately stretched out and able to take in much more holiday food than it otherwise could.  


If my maternal family instilled in me a lifelong obsession and hunger for food, my paternal side gave me the respect and craving for simple, hearty fare. They are farm people; in their kitchens, nothing is ever wasted, nothing is thrown away. You won't find fois gras in the farm kitchen, but you will learn how to de-bone a chicken, cook the meat, make stock from the skin and bones, and throw whatever's left into the ensuing soup. Bonus points if there is a dog around to slurp up the scraps.

I spent hours as a kid helping my grandmother, and then my father, learning to cook in their farmhouse tradition, where nothing was wasted and everything came from scratch. Thanksgiving and Christmas turkey carcasses always became pots of stock and chicken soup (with homemade noodles, carrots, celery, onions, and parsley, plus lots of black pepper - simple perfection) the next day. In fact, most leftovers that didn't get subsumed into a following meal got thrown into a soup pot for the best sort of recycling I've ever tasted. 

My grandma (both of them, actually) passed on when I was just a child, so my memories of her I savor and relish. I make her rolls every holiday, not only because they are the best vehicles for turkey sandwiches (with only yellow mustard - I'm a purist), but because thoughts of grandma showing me how to make them permeate their flavor still.


These are a simple variation on a classic parker house roll.  You heat water, sugar and butter to boiling.  Cool, sprinkle with yeast, then mix in eggs, flour, and salt.  An overnight rise, then they're rolled out, stamped, and patted with more butter before being left to rise a second time before being baked up into buttery, slightly sweet golden perfection.  

Our tradition was to pat one roll with jam instead of butter. The person who unwittingly took the jam roll from the basket was blessed with good luck in the coming year.  These so remind me of my family and my grandma that regardless if whether I get the jam roll, I'm still lucky.

Early Thanksgiving Bonus Recipe - Banana-Cranberry Muffins with Streusel

Thanksgiving is just around the corner, my dear friends. I am only cooking small contributions to the big meal this year, having shuffled off hosting duty to my wonderful parents-in-law AND gotten my own parents to come down, too.  Two families' worth of food traditions?  This Thanksgiving will be, as Swarles Barkley says, LEGENDARY.

So I am whipping up a few family specialties - my grandma's exquisite buttery dinner rolls, a brie in puff pastry with almonds and apricots (for the before time...to keep the cooks' energies up!).  Maybe my grandpa's orange-cranberry relish.  These little post-a-roos will come after the holiday bloat, after the meal is digested, when you're looking at a fridge full of leftovers and wondering, "what now?"

This little recipe concoction calls for dried cranberries to be mixed right into the batter - a fine way to enjoy them.  But, in the spirit of Thanksgiving leftovers, why don't you try it with leftover fresh cranberries (made the same way, just increase the amount to a cup) or with leftover cranberry sauce.  The latter would probably be good either mixed in (thought it will muddy the color) or, better yet, left out of the batter -- then spooned in to the center of each full muffin cup, like a surprise filling!  Or 'marbled' onto the top, before the streusel goes on. Oh, there are just so may options...just like a Thanksgiving table!

What sets these muffins apart from regular banana breads is the citrus zest.  In fact, the first time I made them, I replaced the cinnamon/clove/nutmeg with a pumpkin pie spice mix that had lemon essence/extract in it.  If you're looking to amp up the citrus notes, feel free to add lemon zest too. Hey, you could even try replacing the water with orange juice, although I wonder if that would muddle flavors too much.  The banana is present but not overwhelming; the cranberries are tart but still sweet; and the citrus is almost an aroma in the palate – a hint, but a strong one. Like my hint for you to make me some of these. 

Marinated Cauliflower...

Wherever it is from, behold:  This is a strange beast.

I initially pulled it out (from….um….Cooking Light?  I have no idea)  because I needed something to do with a leftover ½ head of cauliflower.  And I'm always on the lookout for different, interesting things to do with vegetables besides steaming them or roasting them, two options it seems that I just default to time and time again.  (Both are good ways to prepare them, but you get bored doing the same thing over, and over...)  After I made it…well, there are better things to do with leftover cauliflower. 

It’s not that it’s a bad recipe – the flavors are good, and the vinaigrette dressing uses common ingredients and good flavors that I’ve used in many, many a vinaigrette before (Dijon mustard; red onion; olive oil).  I like the saltiness of the olives (I didn’t have capers) and the bite of the vinegar, but it just didn’t come together for me. 

The vinegar was too strong – instead of the called-for white, I’d use cider.  The salad tasted more pickled than marinated – not bad, but not what I was after.  And with nothing else in the salad, it just seemed a little…empty.  It’s OK, and it would probably be a big hit on, say, an Italian antipasti platter, because the acidity would cut right through the rich, saltiness of salumi and cheese.  But as a side dish it left me wanting…something else. 

If you have a leftover head of cauliflower, and you don’t know what to do with it….ROAST IT!  Tossed with olive oil, salt & pepper, give it 20-25 minutes in a 425 oven.  It gets brown, nutty, and delicious – truly different than most of its usually uncooked applications. 

If you don’t want to roast it, or if you have an antipasti platter laying around, you could try this.   It’s not that bad…but it’s not that good either.  But, hey, at least we used up that cauliflower. Modified recipe after the jump. 

  

Chicken Pesto Pizza

This is another one from the archives, another testament to the inner chubster who guides my every waking moment with thoughts of food, more food, and "hey, how 'bout s'more food."  

So I think people who look at the recipes on this blog know that I favor simple foods.  Not that I don't enjoy different, exotic, dare-I-say gourmet creations.  It's just that my budget, ability, and time preclude me from fixing them in my own home. I let restaurant chefs have control over the gourmet, and I follow my own personal ethos of simple, satisfying and comforting at home, for the most part.  

Which somehow brings me once again to the topic of pizza, and how much of it I make.  Perhaps its my mild obsession with finding the perfect dough recipe, or a chronic addiction to my pizza stone, an ongoing hunt for fresh and full-fat mozzerella varieties in every store, or just the simple reason that I really, really, really like it that explains why I make pizza so darn much.  

Really, despite its reputation as a "bad for you" food, pizza is only what you put on it.  You could make it entirely without cheese and remove a large portion of the fat & calories. Use whole-grain or whole-wheat flour (unbleached white at the very least, my usual go-to) in the crust and feel better about the carbs. At the very least, you control how much of anything you put on it, so you have a good idea how healthy or indulgent any given pie will be. 

This one came about because of a marriage of circumstances: an abundant CSA share led me to make a huge batch of Basil-Arugula Pesto (recipe below), an aging dough from Artisan Bread in 5 Minutes a Day needed to be used up, and some cooked chicken breast (a great thing to make in advance and keep  for quick dinners and add-ins) was on hand.  Huzzah, and behold the Chicken Pesto Pizza!

Unlike many proper pestos, I tend to make mine pretty scant on the olive oil.  As a result, this pizza didn't have the overly oily top that I've seen on restaurant versions.  I "dried" the tomatoes on paper towel before topping the pizza to keep the moisture level down as well (soggy crust is a big no-no in Cheeks' kitchen) and sauteed the mushrooms to deepen their flavor before adding them as well.  A few chunks of fresh mozzerella substituted well for a richer blanketing layer.  Accompanied by a green salad, the humble pesto pizza becomes a rounded and, certainly, healthier take on a much-maligned, but much loved, dish.

Pad Flippin' Thai

If you are at all like me, and, who knows, maybe you are equally unusual, then you probably find yourself in a dillemma once in a while, when the urge to consume is strong, but the energy to cook or be inventive or create is loooooow.  What to do, what to do, when you just don't wanna cook?

Forget hamburger helper, forget take out, forget meals-in-a-bag.  NO!  The sodium content of that stuff alone should be enough to dissuade you from cooking them.

Instead, AVAST, and get thee to an Asian Supermarket. You need but two things in your cupboard to ensure that you will always, always have dinner on hand: rice noodles and pad thai sauce. You don't need lots of veggies, you don't need meat, you don't need to stop at the store.  You just need a pan, a bowl, and a mouth.  Done and done.

Soak rice noodles in hot water for 15-20 minutes.  Stir fry whatever you have in the bottom of your crisper drawer - onions, garlic, carrots, peppers, whatever, along with a beaten egg or two thrown in at the end.  Add the noodles and the sauce, cook for 2 minutes, and that's about it.  Much like today's blog post, this dinner takes no effort, requires no talent, and is no problem.

We ate this for dinner two nights this week, and it's only Thursday.

CHEX MIX, For Claire

Oy, listen here.  Miss Claire requested, and I'm here to deliver.  That most mystic of snack mixes, that wonder of cocktail parties, that favorite food of hyperbole-loving bloggers.....

CHEX MIX.

Yes, chex mix.  You know what it is, and you know you love it.  If you don't...well, then, we just can't be friends.  But how can't you?  It's salty, savory, garlicky, crunchy, full of all sorts of bad for you salty bits.  What's not to like?  Unless you're talking about the pre-made bagged chex mix, which is basically repulsive (although the cheddar jalepeno flavor looks strangely appealing...)

It's the little things that make a difference in the mix, and one of them is quite shocking:  I don't use chex in chex mix.  Not usually, anyway.  I prefer crispix.  THE HORROR.

Crispix to me are the best of both worlds, combining the wheat and corn in one crunchy bite.  But, I use chex sometimes (half the time), because I do like to mix corn and wheat chex together to have different bites, and it amplifies the amount of chex-to-other-stuff ratio - which is good when you live with chronic pickers, the people who seek out their favorites out of the bowl.  A high school friend once ate every single chex out of a bowl, leaving all the lonely cheerios, peanuts and pretzels behind.  I was enraged.  Why would you do such a thing?

Then, I thought, perhaps I'm the one being a touch overly dramatic about the whole situation.  It is, after all, just a snack mix.  But it's not.  It's so much more.  And it wasn't drama, folks.  It was WAR.

Anyway Chex Mix is just one of those universally appealing, ultra-simple, "what gourmands might turn their snooty noses up at but will still eat handfuls of repeatedly" foods. You probably all have an idea how to make it, too, since a variation on the recipe is on just about every Chex box out there.  Mine, I don't know if it's similar or different, cause it's just the way mom makes it, so it's the way I make it.

Make it often, and invite me over. Click the "more" link to learn, well, more.

Roasted Acorn Squash with Brown Sugar Glaze

This is barely a recipe.  It's just good.  

Roasted acorn squash with brown sugar glaze

Acorn squash are a great vegetable (actually, Cheeks, they're a fruit) to keep on hand in the fall/winter months.  Kept in a cool place, it keeps indefinitely (probably more like a month or maybe two) until you're ready to use it, or when you're simply in search of something to go on the side of something else. 


Is this helpful or what?


The hardest part of cooking acorn squash is - literally (I used it correctly this time, Yeshua) - cutting through the skin/shell/demon cover.  Since the squash is knobby, it doesn't lay flat on a cutting board, making the slicing process even more difficult - and potentially dangerous.  I thought my giant meat cleaver might come in handy, but it turns out even I'm smart enough not to hack at a roly-poly squash with a giant knife.  


No, the bread knife's long, serrated edge, and a fair bit of muscle, were the best way I found to saw through the tough, inedible skin.  Once you overcome this obstacle, though, a delicious bounty awaits you as fair reward.  Does anyone else have a better way to cut through them?  Because, I'm all ears...and clearly no expert. 

You have no idea how pretty you are, do you?

Squash is nice and versatile, with endless recipes available online to celebrate this fall fruit. But really, the easiest and most familiar way of all is simple: butter and brown sugar.  Oh yeah.  


Like I said, barely a recipe needed.  Quarter (or more) the squash.  Place skin side-down on a baking sheet.  Dot top with butter, sprinkle with brown sugar, S&P, and roast until done (about 40 minutes at 400 degrees). They're done when easily pierced with a fork.  Oh, and they're pretty.  

Cheddar Bay Biscuits

If something is glistening with butter, it might not be healthy, but it's probably good. 

You know what I'm talking about.  Cheddar Bay Biscuits, Red Lobster's most famous offering. Say what you will about this seafood chain, I'll go there anytime you ask me if only to feast on these buttery, cheesy, garlicky bread bombs.  They're famously good...and NOTORIOUSLY bad for you. 

Now, I don't claim that this version I made the other night was healthy, mind you.  A biscuit is a biscuit--that means butter and white flour, and these even include cheese.  But I dare say there a lot less bad than the kind in the restaurant, and you definitely won't end up eating a plate full of deep fried fish along with the biscuits if you make them at home (well, I suppose that's not quite true. I've never deep fried anything and I never plan to.  I can find plenty of deep fried temptation outside my house and don't need to find it inside, too. But you might be deep frying your shoes right now, for all I know.)

Something is clearly wrong with me today.  Is it the fact that, defying my very sloth-like, anti-AM nature, I got out of bed at 5:30 this morning to go to the GYM?  And then I took the dog to the park?  And then I made both breakfast and lunch before leaving for work? Usually I can barely dress myself in the 15-minute post-wake up, pre-run-to-catch-the-bus morning haze.  I am not myself ("How am I not myself?" -- name that movie) today, clearly.  


So, meandering my way back to a point, BISCUITS.  They is good.  

I should have used a bigger sheet, but that would have meant washing one, and I'm lazy.

These biscuits might just make up for my mental shortcomings.  I love drop biscuits (my go-to biscuit recipe is a roll n cut variety) because they're just so easy to whip up on a moment's notice, when you are panicking that "OMG my dinner doesn't have STARCH in it?  How can I eat without potatoes or white flour!?"  Hey, I was raised in the Midwest.  I need my carbs. 


Crisp and flavorful, they aren't as flaky as those RL (for some that acronym might mean Ralph Lauren; in my food-centric world, it's of course Red Lobster) versions made with probably triple the amount of butter, but that just means I can eat three times as many before the guilt sets in.  

Pumpkin Seeds!

Oh, pumpkin seeds, how I do love thee.  You grace the stage but once a year, coinciding with one of my favoritest holidays, Halloween.  Like many of us, I never outgrew the thrill of putting on a costume and assuming a new identity.  Of handing out candy and receiving in return.  Of all things spooky, ghoulish, and creepy-crawly.  Of watching horror movies in the dark.  Of carving pumpkins, planning each year's creation well in advance and reveling in the gory guts of each pumpkin interior.

Prior to the oven

Which brings us to pumpkin seeds, a byproduct of pumpkin carving that you'd be ill-advised to waste.  Because, my friends, they are delicious - nutty, chewy, savory, salty seeds of goodness.

You've probably had plenty of pumpkin seeds that weren't very special at all.  Too much work, too much fiber, not a high enough payout.  And this is a fair conclusion, I think, based on the huge number of pumpkin seed recipes that just plain GET IT WRONG.

I'm serious.  You think you don't like seeds, make them my way.

The pale seeds TRANSFORM into these brown, crispy goodies. 

See, most recipes--almost all, in fact, that I have found--make a vital mistake.  They have you wash - and even sometimes dry - the seeds first, before seasoning and baking.  Why?  Why would you wash the pumpkin flavor away?  It just makes no sense!

Happy Halloween!

Instead, leave all the pumpkin slime on them.  It seems gross, but so does eating raw pumpkin.  Yet cook the seeds, and the pumpkin residue caramelizes and darkens to a deep brown, leaving a subtle pumpkin flavor and a big visual impact.  Amplify the savory notes with a splash of worcestershire sauce, and sprinkling of salt, and a knob of melted butter.  Bake, cool, and prepare to be spooked--who knew a pumpkin seed could be this good?

Sweet & Spicy Snack Mix

I have this problem with Racheal Ray.  And, surprisingly, it's not the perkiness.  

When you think about it, I should admire her.  She's the first to admit that she's not a chef--she's a cook.  She rose to stardom by finding a niche and filling it--evidently filling it very well, if her now pervasive media presence is any indication of her popularity.  She earned a loyal following by doing something I fully support--stripping the difficulty from making new, exotic, interesting recipes and bringing quick, easy, and filling recipes to the masses, and giving people the confidence to branch out in their weeknight cooking.  Plus she seems just like a regular person--not a food genius, not a perfect technician, not a super-skinny spokesmodel (GIADA, i'm looking at you.  There's no way you eat the food you cook.) 

All of these things, I love.  I actually like her show, aside from cringing every time she says "EVOO" or markets some product with a twee name like a "spoonula." None of these things, however, are my problem with her.

It's her recipes.  

She's got tons of great food ideas.  But, by and large, at least with her recipes that I've made, they're VERY poorly tested.  The balance of ingredients is way off (like her sausage and spinach drunken risotto that called for 3 cups of red wine, and buried all other flavors besides wine in the finished dish).  The recipes lack specifics when they are seriously  needed, or just plain don't work.  Rarely do I make a recipe of hers without carefully monitoring it every step of the way, ready to fix, adjust, and abandon it halfway through if needed. When you stop paying attention to her recipes and trust them, more often than not you wished you'd modified something halfway through.  

This snack mix is no exception (I'll get to that) but DAMN if it isn't good.  Incredibly addictive, spicy and sweet, it's one bowl you can't stop reaching into.  The first time I made it, however, I was certain it would be a dud.  See, you cook butter, sesame seeds, brown sugar, red pepper and soy sauce on the stove, then stir in chow mein noodles and spread it out to harden into crunchy bits.  

But, because the recipe doesn't say how long to cook the caramel or to what temperature, there is no way to tell if it's reached the right stage to harden, instead of just congealing into a sticky mass--not the consistency you want in a snack mix.  Faced with this traumatic result, I just stuck the whole sheet into the oven for 15 minutes, hoping it would get the job done--and it did!  It dried out the sticky, crunched up the chewy, and resulted in this getting made a second time--and probably many more times to come.  


This is a crunchy, sweet, spicy, salty, slightly exotic snack mix that is worth making, especially when you've had one too many bowls of chex mix or gorp...or just want to try something different.  Adapted recipe after the jump. 

Marinara Primavera

Finally, my butt is parked on my couch again where it belongs.  Although San Francisco was a new, interesting city to visit, a massive head & chest cold prevented me from seeing much more of it than the few blocks radiating out from my hotel and the convention center (a last-minute foray to the In-N-Out Burger by Fisherman's Wharf notwithstanding).  

 So, home, and sick, and my body craved creature comforts.  Blankets, pajamas, movies, and food.  Usually when I have a cold my wants are specific--ginger ale, OJ, and chicken soup (usually of the Mrs. Grassman's variety, although often times of the Chinese wonton variety as well).  

This time, though, my soul and body a bit starved for attention, I wanted something more filling.  Something hearty and homey.  I wanted spaghetti.  It's an American comfort food, one many of us grew up eating time and time again, and likely composed of similar, ready-made ingredients:  Creamette boxed spaghetti, ground beef, and Ragu (or Prego) jarred spaghetti sauce.  It's the easiest way to fix yourself some faux-Italian comfort food, and not a bad one either.

This is still what I think of when I imagine spaghetti, but sometimes I want to branch out a bit...or just use up a bunch of veggies in the fridge without having to eat, well, a plate of veggies.  Why not cook them into spaghetti?  Or, more truthfully, I had canned tomatoes, tomato paste, and all sorts of veg in the fridge, and I felt that guilt at using pre-made ingredients, and thought, OH, I should make a sauce from scratch. 

Thus, this primavera/marinara marriage was born of necessity, a bit of concern for heath, and mostly because I felt I should. Building a basic tomato sauce is easy, embarrassingly easy really.  Start with flavorful base veggies, add spices, and then add tomatoes and season.  The problem I usually find is that it's easy to make a quick marinara sauce, but not easy to make a quick and GOOD marinara sauce, one that doesn't need to be simmered on the stove half the day or require an absurd list of ingredients. 

Looks like marinara, but chock full of vegetables.  I like tricking myself into healthful eating. 

So I used a few tricks I've picked up from those much more intelligent, cuisine-wise, than me.  First, borrowing from Indian cuisines, I fry aromatic spices to intensify and release their flavor.  After the veggies have really cooked down (you want them to sort-of melt into the sauce), I like to "toast" the tomato paste in the skillet, another step that sweetens and draws out the strong tomato flavor.  Third, I use the juice in the whole tomato can to deglaze the pan, ensuring that no flavorful bits get left behind when the sauce is transferred to the pasta.  Fourth, add a parmesan rind into the sauce while its simmering--the cheesy flavor will infuse the sauce without having to add any actual cheese.  A great way to get another use from something you'd otherwise throw away.  Fifth, fry the pasta in a little olive oil before adding the sauce.  I don't know, it just does "something" - and that something is awesome.  


Ultimately, this married the comforting, nostalgic flavors of good ol' American spaghetti with an updated, richly layered, and veggie-riffic take on a classic.  Jump for a versatile, adaptable recipe.  

Georgian Cheese Bread

While updating my external hard drive last week (sorting through my multitude of picture folders, really) I stumbled upon a forgotten folder titled, appropriately enough for this food nerd, "Food Porn."  Alas!  Food pornography shots I took way back when, before this budding blog took flight, before I had an excuse for my gluttony. 

This picture, though forgotten, reminded me of a delicious baking experiment that went horribly, horribly RIGHT.  "Horribly" because it was near impossible to stop myself from eating the whole damn thing.  This is what happens when you bake alone.

Georgian Cheese Bread, which I first saw in the May 2008 Gourmet, was one of many recipes I made simply because the photos left me an unstable drooling heap, unable to contemplate a life without making. this. now.  I did make a few variations on the recipe, though. Mine contained only mozzerella...because that's all I had.  I also recall the dough being very stiff (7 Tbsp water just doesn't seem like enough) and had trouble getting the dough to nicely flatten, much less reach an 11" circle.  I bet mine was around 8"--good enough for me.   

I can't resist showing it from multiple angles...

Regardless of these changes, this is seriously good. And despite having to make a dough and allow time for it to rise, this bread is relatively easy, so delicious, and--just look at it--pretty darn impressive!  Imagine serving this bubbling beauty instead of plain ol' dinner rolls at your next meal, party, shindig or secret alone-time feast.  Hey, I don't know what you do in your spare time, just what I do in mine....

Close up of the molten, delicious center. 

Let me just take a moment right now to acknowledge that the road to this blog has many, many direction-givers without whom I would never have had the idea and motivation to start it up.  The Food Pornographer, namely, and Smitten Kitchen, two well-known blogs whose images and stories, though different, are equally enthralling if you love to eat.  And Ms. Pioneer Woman, as well, who reminds me not to editorialize or to take on a voice that isn't my quirky, obnoxious own. As I reach for stardom, or just another cookie, you're all who I thank. 

Or thank me, because if you click through the jump you'll have a recipe in your hands that will make you into a star of your own kitchen.  Mmm.

Grilled Vegetable Salad with Creamy Feta Vinaigrette

I have this problem, one I'm trying to address.  I buy something from the market or grocer, needing it for a certain recipe or to satisfy a specific craving. And then, once that solitary need is met, I'm left wondering what to do with the remainder. 

For whatever reason, this seems to happen all the time with feta cheese.  There are only so many Greek Salad we can make before I get sick of that salty snack.  It's not a cheese I eat plain or on crackers, my go-to methods for getting rid of excess cheese (not really a chore...).  Sure, I blended it into the Turkey Artichoke Meatballs, giving them some extra richness and flavor.  I used some in the Tilapia Cakes that I'll soon share with you. 

The cast of characters

But, aside from random recipes or adding it to random salads, I struggle to think about what to do with the remainder of the package It’s a strongly flavored cheese, so a little goes a long way—even my heavy hand with cheese can’t put more than a tablespoon or so into a big salad.  Consequently, some always ends up, lost and forgotten, in the deli drawer of the fridge.

Some was languishing in the fridge the other day when I stumbled across The Bitten Word’s recipe for a Creamy Feta Vinaigrette.  AHA!  Don’t put the cheese in the salad, put it on the salad!  Or better yet, don’t put it on salad at all.  Use it to top fish, shrimp, chicken, grilled veggies, as a dip, or in any other vehicle you can find. 

I don’t know why this seemed so revolutionary, but it did.  I thought it would be a good, different way to introduce this salty, savory goodness into my life.  And it was.  Plus, it’s soooooo easy.  Not like when a chef says easy and you still use 10 pots and 20 techniques.  REAL easy, as in you throw a bunch of stuff into a blender and press the button.

Plus, serving it meant I got to use my cute little creamer for the first time, so I knew I’d be predisposed to like it.  And I did.  The vinegar really sets off the feta’s salty richness, the olive oil smoothes it out, and lots of dill and pepper

The prettiest still life I've ever seen...

Yes, dill—the recipe calls for oregano, but I had bunches of fresh dill, so you can guess why I used it.  And I didn't want just a simple lettuce bowl to showcase this dressing.  No, its bold flavors call for something much more robust.  I had a bunch yellow squash, some red onions, and some already roasted peppers from FIL's garden, so building a Grilled Vegetable Salad was a no-brainer.  It really, really worked.  The caramelized onions' sweetness balanced the salty richness; the squash's mild flavor was a perfect plate to showcase the creamy, sharp dressing.  Work in some protein somehow--grilled chicken, fish, or tofu--and this would easily become a hearty meal.  

Thus, my slightly modified recipe, as well as my recipe for grilled vegetable salad, after the JUMP. 

Crunchy Baked Onion Rings

It all started with an idea, a bookmarked recipe that had languished, untried, in my internet bookmarks folder for months.  A recipe which, a few months ago, I finally got around to making--with pretty successful results, mind you.  The rings baked up crisp and crunchy and oh-so-onion-y.  Not the same as beer-battered onion rings, something I will only eat when I know they're going to be good....OK, well, any time I want them to be good, or see them on the menu, or just want to eat mediocre ones.

What can I say, I love onion rings. The battered ones, to be specific.  Usually breadcrumb coating doesn't float this boat, but if you take the bath in hot oil out of the onion ring equation, you're not going to get get anywhere starting with raw batter.  No, when replicating fried foods in the oven, you have to start with something crunchy if you hope to get anywhere worth eating.

The problem I had with the original recipe--another Martha Stewart gripe--is the amount of work involved on the front end.  Granted, anytime you crumb or batter something, there are going to be a number of steps--dip, shake, dredge, shake, dip, shake, etc.  Not to mention all the dirty plates that stack up--which becomes an issue in a city apartment with the world's worst dishwasher. I had a big issue getting the batter to coat the rings, which then became a bigger issue getting the crumbs to stick to the batter (although they stuck to my fingers just fine...).   There had to be an easier way.

Would it be wrong to eat them like this?

So, internet, I just went for it.  I started off with a trick I read about from Pioneer Woman--soaking the onions in buttermilk to mellow their flavor and start the whole thing off on the right foot.  Thirty minutes later when I removed the onions, I knew we were on the right track--the thick buttermilk was already clinging to the rings. I stacked the rings on a plate, leaving most of the buttermilk in the bowl, and dumped in some flour, hot sauce, and seasoned salt.  I made a thicker batter this time around, hoping to amplify the stick factor (yeah, ew, that just sounds nasty).  All the rings went back in and got stirred around until evenly coated (a step I forgot to take a picture of).  A quick dip in a panko pool--no issues with sticking this time--then onto the hot, oiled sheet, and 25 minutes later we had this:

I love you, rings. 

Which, friends, is pretty much heaven.  Recipe after the jump.

Spiced Pumpkin Waffles

Bear with me, internet, I'm working from memory here.

Yeah, the bacon is also coated in syrup.  Restraint is not my strong suit.

On Friday morning past, I woke up after a supremely awesome concert (courtesy of The Bronx, performing as part of Riot Fest) with not a hangover, but a craving for something decidedly un-punk:  Waffles.  Pumpkin waffles.  And bacon (bacon, in its fatty, self indulgent glory, might be a little punk).

Having spent a night in the pit with the stomping boys (and getting told I was "hardcore" by another girl, something I MOST ASSUREDLY am not), my sore eardrums and empty stomach needed comfort, tranquility, and a taste of something wholesome.  A lingering half-can of pumpkin in the fridge, and a frozen stack of low-sodium bacon in the freezer, and breakfast was decided.  Just like that, my ad hoc punk persona reverted back to the homey, geeky, food nerd we all know that I really am.  

All the spices, awaiting the pumpkin bath.

I'm happy with these waffles, although those better at the baking thing might want to experiment a bit.  Unlike the Krusteez blueberry waffle mix we favor---no mixes are crispier---these waffles came out very soft.  That's fine when you're going to put them in a 250-degree oven to keep warm while you cook the others, as I did, because the oven helps to crisp them up.  But i do prefer my waffles a bit more crisp at the get-go.  I think this means I should use less pumpkin (keep the wet, heaviness down) and maybe increase the baking powder to get more lift.  

Crisp issues aside, and for many of you that isn't really an issue, these waffles are deliciously warm and spicy, echoing the cinnamon and nutmeg notes of pumpkin pie but even more aromatic from being piping hot out of the waffle iron.  Eat these waffles, friends, or my punk persona might come out of hibernation and stomp your face.  Or you'll just miss out on an awesome fall feasting opportunity.  Either way, why risk it?