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That’s my 9 y.o. son Ty, trying out the new ice cream maker we got for Christmas. We started with a recipe from the instruction manual: chocolate mint. Fail. All my fault, I didn’t freeze the bowl first. When it was done mixing, it was still liquid. Threw it in the freezer and ate it later anyway, even though it wasn’t creamy. More ice shardy. We could’ve thrown it out but we’re good Americans. You don’t waste ice cream, not in this country. These colors don’t run! Only…I guess these did. Well this is falling apart.

We tried another batch later, this time vanilla frozen yogurt (also from the instruction manual). But! I followed the instructions and froze the bowl first. Glory be, it came out perfectly. This ice cream maker is a gem: you throw all the ingredients in, switch it to “on” and 25 minutes later, it’s done. USA! USA! USA!

Having successfully made one batch, we’re now experts and might start to experiment a little with flavors. I’d like to attempt the best ice cream ever, Trader Joe’s Lemon & Triple Ginger Snap. But if Ty has any say, it’ll be more along the lines of Gummy Worm Fireball Swirl. We’ll see.

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I always forget about the Crockpot.

A few weeks ago, I remembered. I don’t cook as much during the week as I’d like to, mostly due to busy kid schedules, but am trying to plan meals better. 

I made myself pick a recipe from one of my many sad and rarely used cookbooks, this time one I scored from Half-Price Books (awesome cookbook section, plus most of them come with a free cigarette odor). 

I picked Cherried Pork Roast. (Recipe here.) And since I hardly ever had pork growing up, it still seems new and exciting to me. Please understand I have a very, very low bar for “exciting.”

It was so good. Definitely putting this into the ol’ Crockpot rotation. Easy, too. Basically, it’s sliced onion, thyme and dried cherries thrown into the crockpot, a browned pork shoulder roast over that, then some apple juice poured over top. I think I made some rice to go with this, good for all the liquid left. The picky men-folk loved it, too.

I wish I could think of a clever conclusion to this VERY exciting pork-n-crockpot tale, but the oven just beeped and is ready for my frozen pizza. The end.

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Ty had a friend stay overnight recently, which finally gave me the excuse to make this breakfastish recipe that I’d been saving for a while. So many recipes I save, it’s ridiculous. Since discovering Evernote, I am a full-on digital hoarder. One day a neighbor will smell something foul and call the authorities and they’ll find dead digital cats and it’ll be awful.

Where was I? Food. 

Peanut Butter and Banana Crescents. There is not one un-sexy word in that name. Okay fine, “and” could work harder.

These were easy and good, but not awesome. What would’ve made them awesome is a sprinkling of sugar over the top. The outside lacked the sweetness of a good unbalanced breakfast. Next time, we sugar.

Also, we used Nutella in a few instead of peanut butter because we crazy in Kansas.

The Oscars

Last Sunday, I invited some fellow pop culture nerds over to watch Tina’s Superbowl. Everyone was to bring a themed dish, and being the host, I volunteered for the main course. After studying the nominee list at least four separate times with no luck, it finally hit me. “Man or Muppet” could most certainly become “Man-icotti or Muppet,” and then I could just make an old favorite: spinach stuffed shells. (Okay fine, it’s no “My Left Foot-Long Hot Dog.” Get off my back.)

Even better, that engineer husband of mine—who always seems to come up with better ideas than his writer wife—suggested I add that they were “filled with shredded Kermit, in a Miss Piggy Sauce.” Damn that guy. He understands math, too! He’s the worst.

Hands down, I’ve made this dish more than any other since I first started cooking eight-ish years ago. I don’t even remember where I got the recipe. I make it on Sundays and we eat it just about all week long. Good stuff.

Florentine Stuffed Shells

12 oz. jumbo pasta shells (or manicotti)

1/2 lb. Italian sausage

32 oz. spaghetti sauce

2 10 oz. pkg. frozen spinach, thawed and squeezed dry

2 eggs, beaten

16 oz. ricotta

8 oz. mozzarella

1 tsp. minced onion

1/2 clove garlic, minced

1/8 tsp. nutmeg

1/2 c. grated parmesan

Cook shells until al dente (usually a minute or two less than directed on the box). Drain, rinse with cold water, and set aside. Meanwhile, brown sausage, drain and add sauce. Cover and simmer 10–15 minutes. In a large bowl, mix the spinach, eggs, ricotta, mozzarella, onion, garlic and nutmeg. Stuff each shell with about 2 tsp. of filling. Spread half of the spaghetti sauce into the bottom of a large baking dish. Top with filled shells and remainder of sauce. Top with parmesan and bake for 30 min. at 350º.

Oh, and no picture. Stuffed shells aren’t what you’d call “sexy.” So here, let’s look at my favorite Oscar dress. In my head, this is exactly what I looked like at my wedding.

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This here’s become my go-to dish to make for new mamas, sick friends and really, anyone who could use a little hot love dropped off on their front porch. If you will.

Chicken and rice soup. Not fancy, but perfect for many reasons. Freezes well. Reheats well. Healthy. And if my picky kid will eat it (it recently bested Panera in his exclusive one-boy poll for Best Soup), anyone will.

Last weekend, I had a neighbor preparing for her first chemo session and a good friend whose daughter went into the hospital. Yikes. Time for a big ol’ batch. This recipe is really a combination of about three or so I’ve used in the past, adjusted here and there for ease and for the fact that I like a lot of veggies in my soup. And no, I don’t make my own chicken broth. Deal.

Here it is. Enough to fill four large Gladware bowls. (I usually deliver two bowls per family.)

Chicken and Rice Soup

2 48 oz. boxes Swanson less-sodium chicken broth

2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken breasts

2 Tbsp. olive oil

1 lb. carrots, peeled and sliced thin

1 head of celery, trimmed sliced thin

1 onion, chopped

2 cloves garlic, minced

2 tsp. dried thyme

8 cups cooked rice 

S & P 

Place chicken in crockpot and pour broth over to cover. Cook on high for 4 hours or low for 8. Remove chicken, reserving broth, and shred. Set aside. Strain reserved broth and set aside. 

Meanwhile, sauté vegetables in olive oil over medium heat, covered, until just tender, about 10 minutes or so. While vegetables are cooking, prepare rice according to directions and set aside.

Once vegetables are tender, add thyme and stir to blend. Add shredded chicken and a little salt and pepper. Stir to blend. Add reserved broth and rice. Add additional broth as needed to reach desired thickness. Bring soup to simmer, adding additional salt and pepper to taste. 

Hope I got the amounts right, never written out a recipe before. There might be broth left over. Don’t freak out. Make a banana-broth smoothie or something. 

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I was planning to take an appetizer to a Superbowl party. I felt like wings, but not buffalo, because I like to be difficult. I wanted to try teriyaki, but couldn’t find a recipe that didn’t require frying or grilling. Finally, I found one in my second-oldest cookbook, given to me ages ago by my mother-in-law. (I still have never used my oldest.) Is it weird that I refer to cookbooks like children? Well, I’m not too fond of my youngest, so there.

Anyway. The recipe’s name made me gag a little bit: Mahogany Chicken Wings. Who names a meat dish by its color? Gross. Nevertheless, it had easy ingredients and called for baking. Sold.

It took me two stores to find good wings—this is my soapbox where I say the #1 most important thing to do when cooking is to buy the best ingredients, always. Especially so with meat. Paul prepped the marinade for me the night before, as I was busy making the world’s blah-est bean dip that we will not discuss. For the KU-MU game, which we will also not discuss.

Sunday morning, I came down with a bad cold. When I asked Paul if he’d finish the wings up for me, he puffed his cheeks out slowly and nodded. Smartest guy I know, but man, does he get nervous in the kitchen. Furrowed brow, dramatic sighs, the whole bit. When I told him how to reduce the marinade down to a glaze, I thought he was going to pass out. But he was game and more than happy to help.

As you can see, he did a marvelous job. They were really good and had a kick to them—he used Sriracha for the chili sauce. He sprinkled them with sesame seeds to pretty them up even more, but here’s the thing: they were so mahogany. (Still, I’d call ‘em “Spicy Teriyaki Wings,” but hey, I celebrate all shades of meat.)

Bravo, recipe namers. You nailed it.

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A few Saturdays ago, post-Coconut Shrimp, I decided to make something out of my boyfriend’s cookbook. For my husband. Aren’t I modern.

Going with my typical Saturday approach of complicated/things I haven’t made before, I went with crepes filled with prosciutto, sun-dried tomatoes and some other stuff (not the real title).

I landed on crepes for a few reasons: first, I’d always wanted to try them but thought they were way too fussy; and second, I’d watched my sister-in-law make them flawlessly a few weekends before and realized, geez, I could do that. I did need to buy a small, non-stick pan, though. A few years ago I invested in a really nice, stainless steel All-Clad set and in the mania, threw my crap pans away. Not realizing you need non-stick a lot. Der. But, I read a tip not too long ago to go for cheap non-stick pans, the stuff wears off anyway, so no use in spending a lot of money.

Last reason for crepes? I’d just bought the Curtis cookbook and I try to cook at least one thing before new books go sit pretty on my shelf, untouched. Yes, I just said “Curtis” and “untouched” in the same sentence. Ridiculous notion.

So, with all that in mind, me and my new $15 non-stick pan were ready to party.

They turned out really good, better than I expected. It took a few tries to get them right, I’m not going to lie. My sister-in-law says she makes the batter ahead of time, usually at night for breakfast the next morning. Brilliant. I’m missing the logic chip in my head, so I’d never thought of doing something like that.

Ty helped me a little, although I got a tad controlly since this was new to me and I wanted to master it on my own, too. Together, we made a bonus dessert crepe for him, filled with Nutella and strawberries (what we’re plating there above).

So: crepes. Conquered. It’s on the never-ending list of dinner parties I want to have. Bowls of ingredients to choose from (chicken, bacon, mushrooms, cocktail weinies) and crepes made individually to order. As soon as I get my boyfriend’s RSVP, it is on.

The cookbook above, “Above and Beyond Parsley” (from the Junior League of KC) is where one of my favorite go-to recipes comes from. My friend, pretty little mama-to-be Becki, is having a dinner party and asked if I had an “easyish, semi-fancy, crowd-pleaser.” All words used to describe me. Except crowd-pleaser.

Paul frequently complains that I never make anything twice, and it’s mostly true. Maybe it’s because work-me always has to think of new stuff. I dunno.

However, a long time ago, our friends Robb and Candice had us over and made this pork tenderloin, and it knocked my socks off. I begged for the recipe, and have made it over and over ever since, for visiting family, for dinner parties and for those lucky bastards I live with. I love that there are no difficult techniques, no hard-to-find ingredients, and (the best part) you can prep it all ahead of time.

Anyway. On to it.

Pacific Rim Tenderloin

1 2-lb. pork tenderloin

Marinade

4 Tbsp soy sauce

2 Tbsp cooking sherry (the one in the vinegar aisle is just fine)

2 Tbsp firmly packed brown sugar

2 Tbsp peanut oil

3 tsp honey

1 tsp garlic salt

1 tsp cinnamon

1 c toasted peanuts, chopped

Sauce

1/2 c firmly packed brown sugar

1/4 c ketchup

1/2 c pineapple juice (personally hate it, I use orange instead)

1/3 c cider vinegar

1/2 tsp garlic powder

2 Tbsp cornstarch

1/3 c water

Combine all marinade ingredients and pour into Ziploc bag over tenderloin. Refrigerate anywhere from 8–24 hours. Grill tenderloin 30–35 minutes, turning often. Let rest under foil 10–15 minutes before slicing.

For sauce (which can be made ahead, refrigerated, then reheated on stove), combine all sauce ingredients except for cornstarch and water. Bring to boil. Meanwhile, whisk together cornstarch and water and add to sauce. Stir to thicken and serve over sliced tenderloin. (Extra-fancy touch: add some chopped peanuts over top, too.)

You don’t have to grill this, you can throw it in the oven, too. You have two choices there: easy (350º for 30 minutes) or less easy, but with a nice crust (sear tenderloin on all sides in a non-stick skillet over medium-high heat until browned, then finish at 375º for about 10 minutes). I’d serve this with two other prep-ahead dishes: some variation of au gratin potatoes and roasted veggies, like this awesome Ina recipe. And a round of tequila shots. But that’s just me. Becki, don’t do that part.

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Two Saturdays ago, we had no plans. This isn’t rare, I’m just trying to sound super-cool. I like to tackle more complicated stuff on these kinda days, when I’m in my dressy sweatpants and a glass of wine has mysteriously landed in my hand.

I decided to make Coconut Shrimp, with Ty’s help. A few years back, I realized that if he had a hand in a dish, he was about 99% more willing to try it. Initially, it really pushed my patience level—any sane person would prefer working with knives and hot oil without the “help” of a child. But we are jiving much better now and that kid does love to cook (you’re very welcome, future daughter-in-law). He’s far less picky these days, too. Definitely a relief. 

As you can see, these suckers don’t photograph well (next time I’ll use the fancy paper towels) but man were they awesome. I shoved the cold leftovers straight from the fridge into my mouth the next morning, in a move I’m sure made Paul draw up divorce papers in his head.

I had a Coconut Shrimp recipe I’d saved forever ago, but it was a little too complicated, so instead, I used this one.

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Sunday dinner: basil chicken meatballs with ponzu sauce and toasted coconut rice. For the rice, I followed Uncle Ben’s directions, using light unsweetened coconut milk for half the amount of water. Added a teaspoon or so of sugar, too. While the rice was cooking, I toasted some sweetened flake coconut over medium heat until lightly browned to sprinkle over the rice. Toasted too much, but will use it for oatmeal this week. Or for putting it straight into my mouth hole. Oh, and the meatballs were awesome. Paul pegged them as tasting exactly like the innards of a Blue Koi chicken dumpling.