A New Recipe

Last night a friend and I were discussing pushing your boundaries and taking on new challenges both in thought, in heart and in pursuits. And this morning - lucky me - I received a reminder about a dinner party this Saturday night.

I have to admit I'd thought I wasn't going. I'd only been given a verbal invitation, and while I knew the hostess was good for her word, I'd still hadn't seen anything concrete. Well! This morning I got the official email and my assignment.

Potatoes.

Hmm. Potatoes. I have a yummy rosemary, garlic roasted potato that I've done before. Of course, that is one in a million. I was suddenly energized! I'm in my towel fresh from the shower digging hastily through the cookbooks. I've got three recipes to choose from - a Barefoot Contessa number, a Pioneer Woman delicacy and a Galatoire's original. Yummmmm!

So after a night of pushing boundaries, I am thrilled to meet another opportunity this morning. Finally I am understanding the (sick and sadistic) thrill my mother use to have every summer. We would ask the hateful question, "What's for dinner?" And her joyful response always seemed to be, "A new recipe."

Pick a Scone, Any Scone

I'm back! I'm back! I promise - I'm back. Seriously.

Wild two months. I buckled down and studied for the GRE. It went off without a hitch. Might retake it for pride. We shall see.

Flew to see Little Sister in St. Louis. We found the wedding dress. It was amazing. I cannot believe it. The baby. Isn't. A. Baby. (At least, she'll always be my little sister...)

Moved into the Lizard's condo. This place is slowly but surely coming together. I'm taking it slowly, but I will unpack this place and have it like I want it before the New Year. This new leaf I've turned over - decided every item must have a home - a place of its own. So I'm taking my time. Plus, I get my first never-been-owned-by-anyone-else sofa delivered on Thursday!

Because I can't always recognize when I have enough on my plate, I decided I would start training to run the Cooper River Bridge Run in Charleston in April. Week five of running and I am still alive. (Some days I even impress myself.) I am SO thankful Mimmy is running with me. Makes a huge difference.

I have my first house guest tonight. My very favorite friend. I've pulled out the crock pot for the first time this fall. Red beans and rice for my favorite reptile. So very, very happy to see her.

Now - important things here. I owe a very, very dear friend some savory scones. She has come to a beautiful, exciting and healthy new chapter in her life, and we are celebrating by making Taylor face one of her fears. I am, in fact, a little nervous about making the scones. Batter I'm great with. Dough makes me break out in a cold sweat. Dough is finicky. Like me I suppose. Which only makes me more nervous.

So I'll be asking for your input. Below are four savory scone recipes. Her only preference was something savory. Below are links to the choices:

• Black Pepper and Asiago Scones
• Bacon Cheddar Cheese Scones
• Pancetta, Pear and Parmesan Scones
• Cheddar Dill Scones

I'm so glad to have my life back. These past couple of months were hairy, but I made it on the other side. I have the privilege of making the entirely too desirable Milky Way cake for a party this weekend. What sick part of me looks forward to baking on a Friday night? (At least I don't have five cats.)

I'm back to the kitchen and back to myself. Taking the time to challenge myself physically, prove to myself that I've still got "it." And when the New Year hits and class is behind me, there is only one thing left to do. Find a ballet class. I can't wait!

P.S. Don't forget to pick a scone!

Dirty Rice

Tonight I realized for the first time ever that I behaved like an obnoxious LSU fan. I hope it was the first time I behaved that way and not the first time I was aware of it.

I'm standing in line at the grocery store. I've purchased the makings for dirty rice. The cashier (let me note very ditsy but full of extraordinary personality) comments on my Lousiana (Trim and Terrific) cookbook in my basket. I say I'm making Dirty Rice for the game tomorrow. Foolish assumption #1: She knows - or cares - that LSU is playing UNC tomorrow. C'mon - this is not completely foreign. We are talking an in-state team. I'm not asking her to follow the Bayou Bengals.

Then I very casually say something about those UNC boys already making the Tigers look good. For those of you who may not know, roughly 15 Tarheels were not allowed to fly to Atlanta. (Did they take a page from the SMU rule book?) According to NPR this afternoon, there have been some questionable activities going on as far a player - sports agent contact. So some of the boys had to stay home. Here is foolish assumption #2: the cashier and the lady behind me knew this tidbit, and as for foolish assumption #3: I just figured any good Southern broad gave at least a hoot about football. (Silly me.)

TOTAL SILENCE.

In fact, the personable cashier lost all her personality. Ouch.

Mind you, I am in general a sweet girl. Due to the fact that I would hate their job, I try to be excessively kind to every cashier I meet. I think they deserve smiles and sincere conversation. I worry that people don't pay attention to them all day long.

Then I go and act like that. A smarty pants and possibly an obnoxious fan. Granted this was not full-fledged, drunken bantering. That is something LSU fans are remarkably good at. No, this was just an underhanded comment that the two women I was sassing to couldn't have cared less about.

Oh to go back to the land where football is a religion and the smell of fresh cut grass makes you think of high school Friday nights. Oh me.

So I've been rehashing my smart mouth while I made my first batch ever of Dirty Rice.

I have a picky eater on my hands tomorrow. If it's white he doesn't like it - unless it's turkey or white bread. (Seriously?) We don't get much past pizza or steak with this one. So what in hells bells do you feed him? There isn't enough of a crowd to do jambalaya. I'd be eating it for two weeks. I wanted to do something new, but I also wanted to be sure the south Louisiana influence was present.

So the Dirty Rice...it was very easy, and it seemed as though hamburger meat and rice could cover a number of picky eating sins. It did turn out delish. It is still a little too hot to really taste yet. The red and black pepper would be blowing Mama out of the water, but I double the Worcestershire sauce and added some salt. As it cools off the dish it tasting quite yummy!

I've got my dirty rice mopping up some good flavor overnight. I've pulled out the "34" jersey. Thanks goodness Stevan has kept his number again this year. And my (newly) obnoxious attitude is obviously engaged. Looks like we're sitting on "Geaux!"

Poppin' Fresh

A few weeks ago I called my friend Emily. I'd been thinking about my Aunt Cissy's Poppin' Fresh donuts, and I was determined to give them a try. She gave me the support of a good friend and said when I wanted to fry she would be available as a taste tester. When the night arrived, I was too excited for my own good and cooked a deliciously heavy meal for us before I even fried the donuts. We had to take a little "breather" before I got up and poured the oil.

We pulled out the pan and poured in the oil. Now, I like the kitchen, and until now, I had yet to actually fry something. I don't own a Fry Daddy. (And I call myself Southern?!) I've never made french fries, nor have I fried shrimp or catfish - all things I grew up with. I still haven't even managed to talk myself into frying pork chops - of course that might just be my piece de resistance. If I can give myself a few dozen times to get it wrong, I might just make Cranmommie proud one day.

So I let the vegetable oil flow into the pan. Emily and I are laughing the entire time. (Am I really doing this?)

When I was a little girl, I would go play with Aunt Cissy and Uncle Clarence. Aunt Cissy let me play in the kitchen with her. We would fry poppin' fresh donuts. Every Valentine's Day we made a heart-shaped strawberry cake for my class. Aunt Cissy would make her chicken salad and pack sandwiches. We would drive out on the Natchez Trace and find a little spot with picnic tables. She would cuff her pants up, and we would wade in the creek waters while Uncle Clarence watched. Aunt Cissy also made meat pies and crawfish pies! (Wowser) These are things I must absorb very soon. They are too precious, too delicious and much too deep and happy a memory to be lost. These are recipes to be learned. And soon.

But for now we are pouring vegetable oil in the pan. And Emily and I are definitely laughing. I keep hovering my hand over the oil. Blondie here can't decide when the oil is hot enough. I've pulled out my butter-me-not canned biscuits and formed five little donuts. I passed Emily the condensed milk, and she prepared our icing bath.

We were laughing again in no time. I put the first donut in a little prematurely. We are talking about Rachel Ray and the oil rippling and how were we supposed to know it was ready? Slowly but surely it was time to flip the first donut. It was a rotten crispy (oily, fried) mess. We threw it on the paper towel and waited a couple of minutes. Shortly, there were tiny bubbles forming on the bottom of the pan. It was looking prime. I started feeling gutsy and put two little donuts in this time.

And the oil began to sing...

Our donuts fried up just like I remembered. While I'm flipping, Emily is picking at the first sad little donut. I'm insisting she use the icing. She's saying she likes it just fine without. I'm carrying on about doing it Aunt Cissy's way.

After my four little donuts were fried up just right, we let them roll around in the icing bath and took them to the Man Cave. Emily was ahead of me - she took out the first one. From her reactions, they weren't too bad. I'm still staring at the donuts. Can I remember how they tasted? Did I do it right? How disappointed am I going to be emotionally when this doesn't taste right? Why do I care this much?

First bite. Here goes nothing. And it is absolute magic. I can't even finish the donut. I put it back down on the plate. It is absolutely, positively a taste from childhood. I told Emily it didn't matter if they were good or bad - they tasted exactly like I wanted them to, exactly like I remembered them.

My mom called in the midst of the revelry. She encouraged me to call Aunt Cissy which I did. It has been a long time since I was a little girl sitting on the counter watching her fry donuts. She would fry the donuts, and I would sneak spoonfuls of powered coffee creamer. (Yes, I was strange - still am.) And when I called Aunt Cissy, I felt like a little girl again. It was such a treat. I even got a little giddy and excited when I talked to her. She laughed and more than once told me, "You are a funny girl."

We are planning on making heart-shaped strawberry cakes at Christmas. It is terribly out of season, but it is well worth the memory. Aunt Cissy doesn't know it yet, but she is going to have to show me her meat and crawfish pies too.

My poppin' fresh experience was much more than a success. I could not have imagined that they would literally take me back to a counter on Hurricane Road in Natchez. I was instantly transported back in time when we rode on Uncle Clarence's back anywhere we went, a time when we would put a blanket in the wheelbarrow and take a "ride". We would even climb down to the bayou in their backyard and look for arrowheads.

I'm typing this now and fighting tears. I didn't realize the donuts - or writing this entry - would bring back so many memories. And they are very good memories. I am thinking now that as I walk through the Carolina woods and look at the trees and listen to the birds I am reliving one of the pleasures I loved when I was little and forgot when I grew up.

It's been 10 years this year - the night of my birthday - that Uncle Clarence passed away. He always had Juicy Fruit gum in his desk drawer and a terrific smile on his face. He packed us around on his back like we were nothing more than hummingbirds. He and Aunt Cissy exposed us to the woods and the great outdoors. They asked us to love nature like they did.

Daddy laughed the first time I told him I was going to take a hike in the Carolina mountains. I guess Aunt Cissy and Uncle Clarence's love of the outdoors was not completely lost on this little girl.

The Casa Kitchen

It is that lovely time of year - the time when friends travel and I get to house sit. While this may not sound ideal to some, I adore this time in the Casa. I pack up all my duds and take a week (sometimes more) to indulge in the luxury of a GORGEOUS kitchen. (Side note: I also get to enjoy the US Open in the Man Cave!)

I don't necessarily plan what to cook while I'm here. I just know that all my cooking and baking dreams can temporarily come true in a more beautiful space. Don't get me wrong. My little one-bedroom-apartment kitchen does the trick. Where there is a will there is a way, so the things I want to accomplish get done in my kitchen. When open the door to the Casa and see the granite counter tops and gas stove sparkling before me, I enter my own little paradis - even if it is temporary. In some sick sense, it is pretty close to Main Street USA in Disney World.

Here's the problem this year. I've put myself back on Weight Watchers. I'm not being fanatical; that much I can promise you. In the past, I have somehow managed to survive on the lowest possible points for weeks on end. I wasted away - it was lovely. Now, I'm just trying to stop gorging all the time. I like to cook, to eat, to bake, to drink. The eating deadly on the hips, but the cooking so soothing for the soul. Unfortunately, my soul feels a little fluffy, so it's in the backseat on this trip.

It all boils down to these questions: how do I utilize this kitchen? Let it see the glorious aromas and flavors? Create in it the plates that it deserves? Oh and manage to be aware of Points at the same time? I must be losing my mind.

This morning, I stared at one of my sugar cookie recipe for some time. There is a cookie I am trying to create/recreate. I need to transfer the taste and texture from my head and onto the baking sheet. I thought about taking this opportunity to make dozens of cookies and attempt to figure out the precise recipe. Then I considered my hips. I decided for now I'd be happier if I stuck to the Points.

So I pulled out the WW cookbooks, and a little notepad came out with it. I'd written down (who knows how long ago) the next five recipes I wanted to make. I laughed as I realized I'd not made a single one of them. I followed my own instructions and pulled out the corresponding cookbook to the first recipe on the list. I opened to page 117 to find Chicken with Rice and Tomatoes. I am sure the initial draw for me was the sundried tomatoes and the garbanzo beans. (Yum!)

The making of the dish wasn't bad at all. In fact, when you are using a WW recipe, it seems a little naughy to brown chicken. To be honest, I strayed from the recipe a bit. I left the skin on the chicken parts. (Seriously? Naked chicken thighs and legs? Sorry - can't do it.) I also had long grain rice instead of the brown they used. I couldn't be bothered to pick up more. I really enjoy prep work, but there wasn't too much chopping this time around. Browning the chicken made me happy enough.

In the end, the chicken was perfectly tender. I'm not sure that I salted it enough while I was browning. The rice was flavorful though not moist, and the chicken was moist though not flavorful. Go figure.

Will I make it again? I'm not sure. If I do, I will probably add some white wine to compensate for the lack of liquid necessary for fluffy rice and hopefully enhance the flavor. It is a pretty dish but not a show stopper in the taste department. I suppose that is just one more off the list. It isn't bad at all, but I won't be dying to make it again. What a bust in the Casa kitchen. Five more nights here. What to make next?

Broccoli Bread

While in hot pursuit of a casserole recipe on Sunday I came across a something I had been craving. Broccoli bread. I've been wanting said bread intermittently for the last three months. I wasn't sure where to find a recipe. I never bothered to google it. I didn't even think I might actually have the recipe. And I didn't only have one copy. I had two different copies written in my Grandma's handwriting.

A couple of years ago my aunt shared a stack of my Grandma's recipes with me. I now have copies of everything from corn dip (a crowd favorite), homemade lemon curd, crawfish elegante and chocolate sheath cake. There is even a recipe for Mexican grits. Mmm! It didn't even occur to me that the broccoli bread I'd thought about lately was something Grandma made, but in the middle of digging for an ooey gooey casserole recipe I found the broccoli bread.

Broccoli, believe it or not, is actually one of my favorite foods. It doesn't need much at all (or you can choose to gussie it up). Steam the broccoli and add a little Crazy Jane's - you've got a good (zero-point) side dish. Add some butter and cheese to make it oh-so comforting. A squeeze of lemon and some salt and pepper makes it a refreshing side. I even have a broccoli and grits casserole from my great aunt. YUM!!

So this broccoli bread. The minute I saw the recipe I knew I'd be making it this week. It should really be called cheesey, oniony broccoli bread. It calls for 2 cups of sharp cheddar and an entire onion chopped and a box of Jiffy cornbread mix. Of course there are a few other characters in the bowls, but those are your leading ladies. Instead of making them in the pan, I used muffin tins. Self-imposed portion control being my first thought.

I hate to admit it, but I gorged on broccoli bread muffins yesterday. They were divine. Hot out of the oven they needed some salt, but when I allowed them to cool and the flavors to join forces, they were exactly the way I remembered them. I'm sad I didn't associate this flavor with Grandma instantly.

While I type this, my mind is wandering back to a time when my tiny six-year-old bottom would sit on Grandma and Papa's kitchen counter. I had a bird's eye view. Sometimes they were scrambling eggs or making coffee milk for me. Other times Papa made the best grilled cheese sandwich in the whole entire world. Either way I got to watch and to taste.

I'm so glad I made the broccoli bread. It was perfect in taste and in memory. I'm taking my muffins to a friend on Thursday. I hope she likes it. For me, it is sharing much more than a little carb to round out our dinner.

Casserole Comfort Food

Comfort food. It's something different for everyone. You have to admit that sometimes it's just Kraft macaroni and cheese. It's typically gooey and warm. I'd find it hard to believe a salad is anyone's ultimate comfort food. It's about the texture, the high calorie content and the hug it provides.

So I've been digging for a comfort food recipe. I took a long hard look at the cabbage rolls recipe. I make them at least once every fall or winter, and they always hit the spot. Now just isn't the right time for the cabbage rolls. I need to get some cooler weather and find myself in need of a good hug. I started rummaging through recipes early this morning. I wanted rice. I wanted seafood. Maybe I wanted chicken spaghetti. I definitely wanted a casserole.

I try to be mindful of my calories - some old habits refuse to fully die - so I started off in some of the healthier cookbooks. Who was a I kidding? I tried a couple of Natchez/Trinity cookbooks. That was leaning more towards what I wanted. Then I pulled out Holly Clegg's Trim and Terrific Louisiana Kitchen. Mmmm! I don't always dive in to this one, but it is a favorite.

Now this whole time I was thinking casserole, I had a vision of my mama's CorningWare that always made the crawfish casserole. I opened straight to the seafood section. After some flipping back and forth between a couple of recipes, I finally decided on the Eggplant Shrimp Casserole.

Gloppy goodness! There was Worcestershire sauce. There was mayonnaise. Three cups of rice rounded off with shrimp. Yes! A taste of home with a featured guest...the eggplant. The last two or three times I've gone to the grocery store I've stared at the eggplant. I don't use it often, but I do enjoy it. This was the recipe.

After it was all said and done, I very much enjoyed the endeavor. The casserole was delicious, but I spent the rest of the afternoon still wishing for mushrooms and tomatoes. I think I was ultimately craving Pearl Street's Cajun Shrimp. (Oh mercy!) The recipe was a great starting point. Next time, I might change out the veggies to be a little closer to my favorite Natchez dish. All in all, the casserole did the trick as a gooey comfort dish. I would certainly make it again the next time I'm in need of a culinary hug.

Pregame goosebumps...

Football season is looming, and I mean that in the best way possible. High spirits. Plenty of beer. Rivalries. Good food. Really it just boils down to tailgating.

A few weeks ago a friend asked when we'd be sampling my jambalaya again. I can't tell you why I enjoy making this so much, but I really do. Originally, my friends had their doubts. It debuted at New Years in 2009. No one was that intrigued when I offered to cook dinner that night. (I believe someone asked what the big deal was about chicken and rice...) Luckily for my ego, they changed their tune after a few bites.

In six short weeks, LSU will play UNC in Atlanta for the Chick-fil-A kick off game. This sounds like prime time to me. I typically prefer a a good chill in the air before I pull out my jambalaya pot, but I think this is the date.

I'm ready. Ready for purple and gold. Ready for my tiger earrings. Ready to pace a line behind my sofa. Ready for the way fresh cut grass smells like Trinity on a Friday night. Ready for football season.

The Diet Talking?

I'm going to amend my previous statement. I had a brownie this morning. (For breakfast. And yes, Emily, I counted the Points.) It was actually good.

I think I'll try the recipe again, but I won't

• Turn the music up so loud I don't hear the timer go off,
• Use milk chocolate chips instead of dark chocolate chips,
• Or double the nuts. (Go ahead, you are truly welcome to say I told you so.)

So it wasn't a total wipe. Plus, they might just need a day to sit and get better. (Could this be the diet talking?)

Well, the results are in...

I meant to grab a picture of the brownies last night. A few people enjoyed them, but I like to make impressive items. I've had better response from other recipes. A friend and I agreed: the white chocolate drizzle made the brownie. Otherwise, it was a pretty bland deal. If I ever make it again, I'll switch out some of the dark chocolate for milk chocolate. It just wasn't divine.

And I like divine.

Brownie Day

Today was brownie day, and it would be an understatement to say I've been looking forward to it. Before I pulled everything out, I put three Old 97s cds in the stereo. I turned the music up and decorated the kitchen counter with all my ingredients. Here is a picture of some of my set up. I like to play FoodTV host and line up all my ingredients. I measure it all out, take in the full picture and prepare to dive in.

I had a Pilates client this morning, so before I left I set out the eggs. Everything needs to be the same temperature before the throw down begins. The recipe starts off with two sticks of butter diced. How Paula of them! Only the diet gods would be sad about that. Side note: I stuck the butter in the freezer for about 30 minutes just to be able to cut it easily.

Now, I don't like to mess with baking recipes too much. There is science involved in the ratios. It is much more exact than cooking. So I try to stick to the plan. However, I grew up in a prejudice household. I was taught at an early age that nuts had no place in chocolate. In recent years, I have eased off of this paradigm. I like the crunch they add to a doughy sweet. I figure my mother might faint, but I actually doubled the nuts in the recipe. Let me be clear - I didn't just feel the need to be "creative." The recipe actually called for a 1/2 a cup of raisins. Raisins?? Raisins!!! What?! I couldn't in good conscience put raisins in a brownie. I didn't want to throw things too far off their course, so I made up for the absence of raisins by increasing the hazelnuts and the chocolate chips!

The brownies just came out of the oven, and my little one-bedroom apartment is host to a delicious scent. They are cooling now. In a few minutes I'll flip them from the pan and let them continue to cool on a wire rack. The recipe calls for a white chocolate drizzle on the top, so that is next on the to-do list. I can't wait to see what everyone thinks.

By the way, I had to do a little poll. I was doubtful about making brownies. I was afraid everyone would think they were boring, and there isn't much about them that excites me. I'm just not a brownie fan. The friends I asked were actually very excited. Two told me that brownies are their favorites, and one reassured me that homemade brownies would no doubt be better than the box mix that was (in my head) discrediting brownies everywhere.

** Please note the Fat Mama's cup in the pic. Home is never far away...

My friends must have known

I've been dying to get in the kitchen and do some baking, but I've got this "do unto others" thing going on. Well...do the calories unto others. I love being in the kitchen. I love making the shopping list, lining up all my ingredients on the counter, prepping, chopping and making the house smell like chocolate or the trinity. If I've been cooking, I can't keep my spoon to myself. I love tasting, making sure the spices are right, and generally eating my way through the creation. But the baking. For some reason, I love the baking, but I have no desire to eat it afterwards. I'm not sure if all the richness of the sugar satiates your sense of smell and eases your curious stomach. It does something. Something that leaves me to take one nibble and throw out the rest of the goodies.

Let's be clear here. I've got lots of friends who have offered to take one for the team. I've been told anytime I want to bake I have willing mouths. I should admit that I like to bake with a purpose. It is usually to win people over. Make a disarming treat and folks will love you for a bit. Whether it is new coworkers, new parents or a new love, baking is my way of shimmying into their good graces. Taking the time to make and deliver a special confection is my personal way of doting on others.

Anyway, my friends must have known I was needing a good dip in the sugar pool. My friend KN called two nights ago after we left work. We caught up for a bit, and then she asked the big sha-bang: Do you have a good buttercream recipe that stiffen and hold to the side of a 3D cake? (What -- I've become someone you come to with baking questions!!!!!) I've done some decorating - my most proud cupcake being two dozen little piggies I did for KN's daughter's birthday last year. I told her I do my digging. I can see the recipe paper in my head. I've just got to search for it. I'm definitely excited about the task, and if I weren't going to be out of town the weekend of the birthday, I'd have just offered to make the cake. In the mean time, I'll settle for finding her the perfect icing.

The real treat came in an email yesterday. Among our group of friends, the very first baby is due to arrive in August. AJ decided to throw one last fete before the baby arrives. I waited anxiously for my assignment. I figured I'd be making a side dish. In fact, I was already thinking roasted potatoes. Then she pulled out the magic carpet - she sent out an email, and my duty was the dessert. I have to admit I got very excited. I'd just needed an excuse to bake, and here it was. I've done my digging and wanted something that would hold its own with Blue Bell vanilla ice cream. I've found a new brownie recipe. I know...brownies. I happen to think it is rather boring as well, but with muscovado sugar and hazelnuts, I figured it can't be something you would order at Ruby Tuesday's. It's my first homemade brownie ever, and I can't wait to see how it goes in the kitchen and on the plate!

This is all about learning there is magic in the twists and turns. Stick around.