Let My Supper Go

'Round about Wednesday I get sick to death of making dinner.  Hows about you?  You get out of work late, traffic is trafficky, you live way out in the willywacks, et cetera, et cetera.  Pizza and chinese food always sound better than having to think of what to do with a pound of hamburger (or hamburg, if you live out in these parts.)

Then you remember that the man of Shannon's dreams (presumably) has given you a bottle of his homemade maple syrup.  And while you yourself cannot identify a maple tree, you can identify a Canadian, and Mrs. Butterworth, and you know that pancakes will become dinner tonight, if only to try Moses' maple syrup.

(Can you tell yet that I'm writing this post on a post-syrup syrup high?  Cause I totally AM!)

What is doubly awesome is that the recipe I'm going to share is not for Moses' homemade maple syrup, cause I'm pretty sure you just tap a few maples and boil that crap down, and that's pretty easy.  But so is this recipe.  It's PW's recipe for Edna Mae's Sour Cream Pancakes.

I know.  Brake squeal.  Sour cream?  But guys, it's good.  They're light, and sorta like a moist/creamy type deal.  Andrew commented on how moist they were (the more I write moist, the more I hate the word), and it wasn't until he had eaten every last bite (asparagus-free, mind you) that I told him there was 7 Tablespoons of flour in the entire recipe, and it was primarily sour cream.

So pretend it's low-carb as you're suffocating them to death with Hannaford brand butter flavored maple syrup product, or some of Moses' syrup, if you know him well enough, bub.

PW's original recipe is here, or on page 76 of her first cookbook.

Here we go:

1 cup Sour Cream
7 Tablespoons All-purpose Flour
2 Tablespoons Sugar
1 teaspoon Baking Soda
1/2 teaspoon Salt
2 whole Large Eggs
1/2 teaspoon Vanilla Extract
Butter, For Frying And Serving (baby steps!  I only ate mine with 10 gallons of syrup!)
Warm Syrup, For Serving (Ain't nobody got time for that!  Is this phrased overused?  I was just starting to get into it...)

Put your sour cream into a medium sized bowl.  Add the dry ingredients and stir until barely combined.  Whisk up the eggs and vanilla in a separate lil bowl and add to the sour cream mix, and stir until just combined.  Be gentle.  Heat up a skillet (I used my cast-iron) to medium low heat, add butter, and fry up pancakes in 1/4 c servings.  Flip after 2 minutes or so, when they look set and they're starting to give you bubbles at the surface.  Cook for another couple minutes.  Repeat with remaining batter.

That was the entire recipe (minus one still in the pan)

Serve with whatever you eat on your pancakes.  I had intended to make blueberry pancakes, but was at Motivation Level Zero to stop at a real grocery store (I hit the Tradewinds in the village for sour cream.  Alas, no blueberries there.)  I was tempted to put in some sausage crumbles I had at the house.  When I mentioned this after the fact to Andrew, he gave the half shrug of, "yeah, I'd eat that."  Yeah, and ya'd eat asparagus, too, ya numbah.

Husband portion.  Minus two.  I also got the one in the pan.  Score!

Con-Artist Cooking

We had asparagus on Easter.  I'm copacetic to asparagus.  Sure, the next day I nearly have a heart attack when I go to the bathroom and I'm quite sure I'm dying (what is in asparagus that gives your wee the death factor??), and sure, it's not a starchy vegetable, so it's like a red-headed step-child to me, but I wouldn't pass it by on a buffet line.
But Andrew would.
He did take a no-thank-you bite of it on Resurrection Sunday (which is more than he did when I made split-pea soup that week with the hambone...), but he didn't go back for any thank-you bites.
So tonight I did what any good wife (or mother of a toddler) would do...I hid the asparagus.  Casserole-style.
And he gobbled it up.
Because his eyes don't know what his belly like.
His belly like asparagus.
I hid it in this easy, nothing-really-homemade-about-it casserole.

Here we go:

3 chicken breasts, cut up into small chunks
Olive oil
1 red pepper, diced
1 lb asparagus (how you gonna hide 1 pound of asparagus from someone?  Cut it in half and let them assume it's green beans.  Suckahs!)
1 box Cavatappi (fantastic note:  when I tried to spell-check Cavatappi, the alternative word was "catnapping.")  Penne or any other shapey pasta could work, too.
2 containers of Philadelphia Cooking Creme (I used the Italian Cheese and Herb)
Italian blend cheese (handful...that's what I had left in our cheese drawer)

Heat large non-stick skillet to medium heat.  Add a swirl or two of olive oil.  Add chicken chunks and brown.  When the chicken is almost done, add the diced red pepper and asparagus (I cut off the ends of the asparagus, but you can just hold the tip end and break off the end-end and it will naturally break off the tough part.  That is the worst explanation of how to trim asparagus ever.  Look it up online...I'm sure it's more coherent.)  Cook until the veggies are a little soft...you still want some crisp to them, but not a raw-veggie taste.  Add one container of cooking creme and stir to combine.
While the chicken is cooking, cook your pasta according to the package directions.  Drain and return to your cooking pot.  Add the chicken mixture to the pasta, along with the other container of cooking creme, and stir to combine.  Pour into a 9x13 pan, cover with a handful of the Italian blend cheese, and broil (I set my broiler to low and put my oven rack on the 2nd to last spot) until the cheese is brown in spots and it starts to look like Pizza Hut takeout.

He was picking asparagus from the dish to eat on purpose!

Serve with Hannaford's finest garlic bread.  Don't serve with the leftover salad your asparagus-loving husband has claimed for his lunch the next day.

Try sneaking in veggies that your family doesn't typically eat.  Cut up small enough, doused in sauce and cheese, and tucked behind some twirly pasta, they won't even notice.  It's con-artist cooking at its finest!

I Like Big Puffs and I Cannot Lie

Breakfast during the week at our house is usually some toast or a bagel thin (that's my pre-workout breakfast...to be followed by a second breakfast at work.)  Weekend breakfasts aren't usually any more involved...maybe eggs...or maybe I pout and Andrew takes me to breakfast.
But I was feeling cookery this morning, and I whipped up the PW's French Breakfast Puffs.
Ermergerd.
They are a delicious, butter dipped, cinnamon sugar coated cross between muffin and doughnut.  They're about a difficult to make as chocolate chip cookies, meaning, anyone can do this.  It gets a little messy at the end, when they get their butter and cinnamon sugar bath, but it's totally worth it.
PW's original recipe can be found here or on page 66 of her first cookbook.  Her recipe is below, with my remarks in italics.

Here we go!

3 cups Flour
3 teaspoons Baking Powder
1 teaspoon Salt
1/2 teaspoon Ground Nutmeg (I went heavy-handed with the nutmeg, cause I like 'em spicy...so maybe 3/4 tsp??)
1 cup Sugar
2/3 cups Shortening
2 whole Eggs
1 cup Milk
1-1/2 cup Sugar
3 teaspoons Cinnamon
2 sticks Butter (the panicked look on Andrew's face when I told him the recipe called for 2 sticks of butter...you should have seen it!  I was able to use about a stick, plus two or so tablespoons.)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Lightly grease 12 muffin cups. (I sprayed em down with non-stick spray.)
In a large bowl stir together flour, baking powder, salt, and nutmeg. Set aside.
In a different bowl, cream together 1 cup sugar and shortening. Then add eggs and mix again. Add flour mixture and milk alternately to creamed mixture, beating well after each addition. (I used my Kitchen Aid...just like making cookies, I tell ya!)
Fill prepared muffin cups 2/3 full. Bake at 350 degrees for 20-25 minutes or until golden. (Mine took closer to 30 minutes...just watch em.)

Naked Puffs

In a bowl, melt 2 sticks butter. In a separate bowl combine remaining sugar and cinnamon. Dip baked muffins in butter, coating thoroughly, then coat with cinnamon-sugar mixture.

I didn't eat three, I swear!  I just thought to take the picture while my hands were clean, melting more butter...

 Serve warm.  Entice your mother to come down for puffs, instead of driving all the way into town to the Bagel Shop. 

The humanity!

You can freeze any remaining puffs.  Then your husband won't have any food guilt.