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Mac ‘n Cheese – the 2009 version

I was talking with a co-worker the other day about how December is totally a wash. Even though we all have to go to work or school, those few weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas are definitely not the time of year where I feel most focused or motivated to do anything except cook, eat, and sit at home in my pajamas — maybe with some carols playing in the background. This last week, the weather in San Francisco turned truly wintry, with temperatures cold enough to warrant the use of wool mittens, and big gusts of wind that swirled through your legs, making you brace no matter how long your coat.

The things I like about this time of year? The lights. The decorations found in the most unexpected places. Gift wrapping (it’s the only craft I ever seemed to be any good at). And of course, the eats. Because when it’s cold outside, you have license to eat whatever makes you feel a little bit warmer, even if your gym clothes haven’t seen the light of day in…a while.

That’s the thinking Joe and I have when it comes to making mac ‘n cheese every year with our Thanksgiving meal. I know we’re more than a week past Thanksgiving now (I’ll refer you back to the first paragraph if you’re wondering why I didn’t get around to writing this post earlier in the week), but if ever there was a time of year to curl up with a bowl of creamy, zippy, decadent mac ‘n cheese, this is it. Indulge now. Whatever guilt you have for eating something so deliciously bad can be assuaged when you resolve to exercise more after the new year.

Get the recipe after the jump! (more…)

More Mexican Pie, Please

Hang around Joe long enough and you realize that he has integrated many great quotes from South Park into everyday life. A classic example:

nomorepie

[Click on the picture for video. I initially embedded it, but it had automatic playback. Didn't want to surprise any of you at work!]

Eat too much?

“No more pie.”

Did “just one drink after work” turn into an all night binger where you somehow ended up playing beer pong at the perennially awful Bar None until midnight with your 35 year old co-workers — and you have to wake up at 4:30 am the next day?

“No more Happy Hour pie.”

Get super sunburned in Cabo?

“No more tanning pie.”

“Pie” is the perfect catchall word to denote whatever we’re talking about at any given moment. Of course it can also be used in the reverse. (Ex: “More red-wine-and-Sopranos pie, please.”

The point of me telling you about all this pie? Last weekend, I made a huge casserole that I named, for lack of a better term, Mexican Pie. You’ll see why in a minute. But I purposefully made such a large amount of Mexican Pie so that I could take it for lunch each day this week, and not have to eat out. As much as I adore the restaurants and cafes on Fillmore, eating around there does get pricey, and I need to be saving all the money I can. For the future, sure — retirement and rainy days and all that jazz — but, also, for (more…)

Just don’t ask what’s in it

There’s a counterpart to my grandmother’s beef stroganoff, a recipe dearly loved in my immediate family.  I continue to make it to this day, although very rarely.  Joe has refused to eat this ever since he watched me prepare it, and I can really only bring myself to even shop for the ingredients when I’ve had a very rough day or am sick, since it reminds me of being comforted.

I recently divulged the ingredients of this recipe, a hell spawn of a 50s inspired “from-the-can” casserole, if ever there was one, to a couple of my girlfriends, who are both in the food biz.  They started laughing at the sauce’s first ingredient, recoiled in horror at the second, then laughed again at the composition of the dish.  We were all out together for dim sum, and by the end of my explanation, we were laughing so loudly that the tables nearby were staring.  Typical.

But because of this conversation, I’ve come to the conclusion that all cooks have secret food vices.  I’ve yet to meet a cook that hasn’t been happily (if not somewhat shamefully) consuming some disgusting food in the privacy of their own home, hoping no one finds out (and then ardently defending their vice once it’s been revealed to OTHER cooks).

My two friends, for example, confessed to their mutual love of (more…)