beans, beans, good for your... nothing.

Last night, n.o.c. made delicious re-fried beans from scratch. Do you want to know how much butter is required for delicious re-fried beans? No, no you do not.

bake yourself happy

Friends, times are hard. Promising signs abound, and I'm so very hopeful, but for now there seems to be an awful lot of sh*tty to contend with. So I'm going to make a suggestion: cheese and macaroni.

When I was young, one of my favorite foods was my mema's cheese and macaroni - cheddar, elbow macaroni, and saltines, all saturated with milk and egg and baked until bubbling. Her cheese to noodle ratio is audacious, and, if you know me, that probably explains a lot. I still love hers, but it loses something when I make it myself, so I make my own flossy version.

Now what I'm about to share is practically a four-pound strata of holy f*ck, so watch yourself. It's also one of the most comforting foods I can imagine, so this goes out to all of you whose mellow has been harshed. If you can handle this much cheese, the only thing you have to fear is high cholesterol and a bigger waistline.

I'm more of an eyeball-it-and-do-what-feels-right sort of cook, so nothing is too specific.

Ingredients - Buy the good stuff. Organic and local when possible.
Big bag wide egg noodles
1 lb Gruyere, grated
1/2 lb Fontina, grated
1 quart half and half
Butter
Flour
Salt and Pepper
Nutmeg
Breadcrumbs
Butter

Boil noodles until almost done. Rinse in cold water, drain, and spread into an unbuttered casserole dish. In a sauce pan, melt, say, half a stick of butter over medium-high heat. When it's good and melty, add a few tablespoons of flour. Cook for a bit, stirring constantly, until it smells toasty. Whisk in half and half. All of it. Add a few grates of fresh nutmeg. Reduce heat to medium and heat until hot, but do not boil. Add cheese. All of it. Stir constantly until melted. Salt and pepper to taste. Pour cheese sauce over noodles until they're comfortable but not overwhelmed. Sprinkle breadcrumbs or panko over the top. Dot with butter. Cook at 375 until bubbling and browned. Eat. Feel better.

Fabulous for taking to barbeques, ailing friends, thin enemies, etc. The cheese sauce will also keep for a few days in the fridge and is fabulous on broccoli. Trust me.

sea pork

It turns out that I'm a remarkably simple creature; in fact, I'm practically a tunicate - but more on that later. Next time I'm in the hips, just remind me to follow a bout of joyous weeping with homemade wild mushroom pizza:

A cribbage victory - nay, drubbing! (Which included a very odd hand):

And a bouquet of spray roses:

Then give me a sunny day, and I won't even mind that our ambergris fortune turned out to be a rotting bucket of sea pork.

a half dozen

1) Limiting our alcohol intake has contributed neither to the great reducing nor to our mood in general. We're done with that shit.

2) P90Xing will give you calves the size of footballs. You won't be able to wear boots or skinny jeans, but you will be able to lift the car with the strength of your calves should the need arise.

3) Being a spectator at a middle and high school poetry recitation is a mixed bag. If you can get past the pain, you can find some funny.

4) My mother witnessed our very loud upstairs neighbors. After staring at the ceiling for a while, she cocked an eyebrow and quipped, "You know, your father and I wouldn't take that sort of thing lying down. We're far too competitive."

5) Saturday night's dinner was a tasty affair - local smoked trout and dry-aged pork.

Before:




After:


6) My cactus celebrates all the major holidays. What can I say? This fool succulent has stamina.

repast

The best part of the great reducing? Cheating.

Spinach with avocado and yellow tomatoes. Green and fatty. I like it, I like it!


Caramelized onion, butternut squash, sage and goat cheese galette. F*ck.


Mushrooms sauteed in sweet vermouth. I die.


Steaks. Rare.


Afterward, everything seems bathed in lovely. Even Geodesic Gnomes.