Gloppy Squash and Rice Casserole

On a regular basis dinner around here looks like a meat, two veggies and possibly a salad. Sometimes a salad replaces one of those veggies. Sometimes it is too predictable, and last week I'd had enough. I needed gloppy. I needed several items mixed together and baked. I needed a casserole.

Enter Pinterest.

Dang Pinterest. It is virtually a rabbit hole. Enter at your own peril. I fall in every time I log on. One morning, I found myself actually reviewing the pin boards I've made myself. I was also digging around and seeing what more there was to add. I can across a pin with x number of recipes under 300 calories.

Enter stage left: Squash-Rice Casserole from Cooking Light in 2002...

I gave Tom a choice. We could have this or black bean and sweet potato salad. He didn't hesitate. (It appears I'll be making the potato salad without his prior approval one day.) He also went down to the farmer's market that comes to the dental school every Wednesday. He came home with oodles of squash and fresh green beans. Yum!

The recipe called for zucchini, onion, rice and some binding agents and seasonings. I was to boil the zucchini and onion in chicken broth and then puree it. The puree would then be added to the rice, cheese and sour cream to be baked.

I decided I wanted to see and chew my veggies in this dish. I also wanted squash instead of zucchini. Let the interpretation begin!

The original recipe can be found here. What follows is my version.

Ingredients

8 c sliced squash	¼ c Parmesan cheese
1 c sliced onion	¼ c Italian-seasoned breadcrumbs
2 c cooked rice	1 t salt
1 c shredded gourmet cheddar cheese blend	¼ t black pepper
1 c light sour cream	½ c Three Cheese Eggbeaters
cooking spray

Preheat oven to 350°.


Melt the butter in a large skillet while you chop the squash and the onion. When ready, saute the squash and onions until desired texture. I like them a little more squishy, but I still had some firm pieces. The onion could have used longer.

Coat a 13x9-inch baking dish with cooking spray. Combine the squash and onions with the remaining ingredients. Stir gently and pour into the baking dish. I just did all the combining in the baking dish. Why dirty up more than necessary?

Bake at 350° for 30 minutes or until golden brown. I think it only need 20 minutes. I cut it off after 20 and let it sit in the oven until the other pieces of dinner were ready. 

Initially I was unsure of my opinion, but after going back for seconds (and Tom going back too) we decided it was a keeper. It was deliciously gloppy and uncomplicated. It had the consistency of macaroni and cheese with a little less guilt. I think we'll be making it again. See what you think.

My Life in Chapel Hill

The pace of things are different here, and I am very grateful for that. Instead of running around like a crazy, I have recently found that I have time to read. I haven't done this in years!

My last book was Promise Me, a memoir by the founder of the Susan G. Komen Foundation. It was really a great read. I shed my share of tears (as with any book recommended by Gwen), but the read was worth it.

Now I am working on My Life in France by Julia Child and her nephew Alex Prud'homme. I am enjoying every paragraph. It centers on the four years that Julia and her husband Paul spent in Paris and the culinary awakening, journey and education she experienced there. The book constantly leaves me hungry. I want to cook. I want to cook fatty things. I want to cook things with bacon and butter and wine and homemade stock. (Where does "I want to be skinny" fit in here?)

Much of Julia's days (at this point in the book) are spent pouring over cookbooks, saturating her brain at Le Cordon Bleu, obsessively trying to nail mayonnaise when cold weather is her foe, making friends with vendors at the market and accruing every kitchen tool one could ever desire. Luckily for me, I feel like I am getting to live life a little more too. I actually have time to read a book, to find a new recipe, to write this post. I am very happy that I have time to cook and someone to share the calories.

So here's to enjoying the little things... like having a little more time to enjoy everything.

A Weekly Letter

When I went to college Cranmommie sent me a card every week with $5 in it. I told her once that I loved fresh flowers, and she told me the $5 could help with that.

Anytime I have them on my table, I think of her and my weekly letter.

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.