Good Morning Indeed

It’s that time of the year, drink recipe time.  We just celebrated father’s day and that means Jim gets breakfast in bed with either champagne or Bloody Marys.  Jim went for the Bloody Mary this year.  Jim drinks his fair share of Bloody Marys.  He likes them when we are traveling for pleasure on AM flights, and often times will have one.  Jim drinks enough Bloody Marys in airports that really should write his own blog about airport Bloody Marys.  

I usually do not join him for a couple reasons.  First, booze + a plane ride = groggy and bloated.  Second, much like the maligned Caesar salad, there are a lot of bad, bad, bad Bloody Marys.  I have no idea why.  But a good one is like a revelation.  One day we were in San Francisco on our way home from wine country Jim requested a Bloody Mary.  We sat down at the bar of our favorite SFO restaurant next to the Delta gates and Jim ordered his AM departure cocktail.  When it arrived I had drink envy, which, quite frankly, happens a lot.  It wasn’t so much the drink as the garnish they put in it.  No wilty celery; it came piled up with pickled carrots, okra and green beans, a pack of olives and a cucumber spear or two.  I eyed his drink.  

“Are you gonna eat that salad?”  

“Yes.” 

“All of it?”

“Yes. Why don’t you get your own?”

“I don’t want my own I just want your drink salad.”

“Excuse me.” Jim said to the bartender.  “May we have another Bloody Mary?  Actually, make that two more.”  And so I got my drink salad with a side of  cocktail.  And it was an excellent Bloody Mary.  

Soon after I started working on my own Bloody Mary recipe.  There is no excuse for a crappy one.  I suspect the crappy ones involve really bad vodka and off brand tomato juice. For me a Bloody Mary tastes like tomatoes, slightly spicy and you can taste the vodka.  It has a personality, not banality.  

So this year for father’s day we had Bloody Marys and I even joined Jim and drank one, or two, too.

Bloody Marys - Makes 4

2 cups Spicy V8

2 teaspoons worcestershire 

1 1/2 teaspoons prepared horseradish

1 teaspoon Old Bay

1 teaspoon sriracha

juice of 1/2 a lemon

juice of 1/2 a lime

pepper - a turn or two

1 1/4 cups vodka

Garnish

Pickled vegetables and cucumber - the more the merrier

Whisk together the first 8 ingredients and chill overnight.  Add in the vodka and pour over ice.  Garnish and serve.

Notes:  Yes, that is a Trader Vic man in the glass, he’s on top of an olive, pickled okra and a cucumber.  I like using the thick ice cubes that are all the rage currently, so my drink does not get too watery.

Bittman Breakfast

Weekday breakfasts are an a la carte free for all around here, egg whites for me, toaster waffles or cereal for the kids and nothing for Jim.  But on the weekends we make BREAKFAST.  More often than not breakfast on the weekends usually involves grits and eggs.  Sometimes we have Jim’s special breakfast potatoes and sometimes polenta substitute teaches for the grits.  We aren’t French toast, waffle or pancake people, I won’t go into the details of what those particular breakfast foods do to the four of us but understand it’s a family wide affliction.  I have an acute aversion to doughnuts and other breakfast sweets and for some reason we reserve bagels and lox for special occasions.  So it’s basically the same thing over and over.  But I am always on the lookout for something new in the breakfast arena.

A couple years ago I went on a Minimalist bender watching almost every Mark Bittman video the New York Times had to offer.  The one recipe that stuck is his Jean-George fried rice.  I’ve changed it, of course, making it less Minimalist.  Mark serves it for lunch, I serve it for breakfast.  OK and while rice isn’t that much different than grits or polenta just humor me that this is my different breakfast meal.  It smells great, a good use of leftovers and it’s good for what may ail you from the night before.  

Garlic-Ginger Fried Rice - from Mark Bittman and Jean-Georges Vongerichten Serves 2-4

3 cups cooked jasmine rice (preferably 1 day old, this is 1 cup uncooked rice)

4 eggs

3-4 tablespoons chopped ginger

3-4 tablespoons chopped garlic

1 leek, sliced

3 tablespoons vegetable oil

2 teaspoons soy sauce

1 teaspoon sesame oil

2 tablespoons cilantro, chopped

1 teaspoon sesame seeds

sea salt

Sriracha sauce

1 tablespoon white vinegar

Heat 2 tablespoons of vegetable oil in a heavy pan.  Fry the garlic and ginger until brown and crispy but not burned, this takes about 3 minutes.  With a slotted spoon remove the garlic and ginger from the pan and set aside.  Wipe out the pan and heat 1 tablespoon of oil and saute the leeks until tender, about 10 minutes.  When the leeks are tender add in the rice, soy sauce, sesame oil and salt, stir fry for about 5-7 more minutes. Fill a wide pan with about 2” of water and add the vinegar; bring to a simmer.  Crack the eggs in to small bowls or ramekins.  Tip the bowl with the egg slowly in to the simmering water so the water comes in to the bowl to take the egg out to sea like the tide.  Repeat with the other eggs. Using a slotted spoon, gently redirect the egg around itself in the water. Allow the water to return to a simmer and simmer 2-3 minutes.  Remove the eggs with a slotted spoon or pasta claw and drain on paper towels.   Fill bowls with the rice, top with the poached eggs and sprinkle with the fried garlic and ginger and the cilantro.  Serve with Sriracha.

You can watch the Mark make it here.

Chee Whiz

Everyone has some dirty food secret.  Some processed nastiness they can (or more than likely cannot) admit to liking.  I don’t care what kind of food hipster you are, you’ve got a hang up:  Kraft mac-n-cheese, Hostess pink plastic sno-balls, baloney on Wonder bread, a Taco Bell addiction, something.  Children, however, are less discriminating.

Last summer I promised the kids ‘junk food Saturday’.  If you read this blog regularly you know this is breaking all the rules for me. But the great thing about kids is you get to re-live some of your own childhood and rediscover some of the confections you may have forgotten on your way to middle age.  Jim was out of town on an annual business trip to Chicago and I was looking for a new angle on entertainment.  The mid-summer 98 degree heat certainly did not encourage the kids to get out their bikes and ride around the park.  So ‘junk food Saturday’ was christened:  the kids were each allowed one manufactured snack they are normally prohibited from eating and two movies.   The PJs would stay on and after a heathy breakfast the sloth would begin!

First we had to pick their poisons and these selections did not come easily.  Picking which item of forbidden junk takes an epic amount of time and emotional investment.  Apparently, over the past 30+ years, I had failed to see that the grocery store is nose to tail filled with Vegas style flashy food crap. The kids almost had nervous breakdowns from the pressure.  There was nail biting, bargaining and almost tears.  It was UN negotiation worthy. Finally after the threat of no junk food Saturday decisions were made.  The results: our son picked some waxy brown rectangle imitating a pastry and our daughter selected two tone pop tarts of a flavor not found in nature.  I selected crab chips.  

A couple months ago the kids started trash talking what they were going to eat for junk food Saturday this year.  Our son had even remembered the actual date and placed it firmly on his mental calendar.  The lists started to get long, clearly they had been thinking about this for the past eight months, like a Christmas list, only oddly more detailed than their Christmas lists.  As the train picked up momentum Jim could hold back his inner Ohio no more.  He chimed in, ‘Well, we are going to change the date of junk food Saturday this year so I can participate!  We’ll do it the week before I go to Chicago AND I am going to pick out the best stuff, not that old lady stuff you amateurs select.  Oh yeah!  In fact,’ He was revving up now ‘In fact, this year we are all going to be allowed to get two things instead of just one!  Yup.’  He beamed from across the table with a grin that said ‘I’ll show you who knows how to have a good time’.  He had upped the ante and affectively lost his mind.  Squeals of delight.  

‘Well then, I’m sure you will be happy to take the kids on that trip to the grocery store.’ I guess I got wrapped up in the emotion as well because I continued with ‘And I’ll place my order now: EZ cheez and a bag of Chex mix.  And I plan to take that EZ cheez and squirt it into a ball and roll it in the Chex mix and pop it in my mouth.  That will be my snack.’  Three sets of eyes blinking at me from the dinner table. Finally our daughter offered a very small ‘Ew?’ Followed by our son ‘Yeah, ew.’ and Jim ‘Who are you?’  ‘EZ cheez, it’s delicious.  Kids do you know what it is?  It’s a can and you squirt it like, well, like a whipped cream can and a cheese product comes out.  Some people squirt it on crackers but some people...’ Jim finished my sentence ‘squirt it directly in their mouths.’  Larger ‘Ews’ all around.

EZ cheez was my Dad’s dirty little processed food secret. I can honestly say with the exception of the EZ cheez I have never seen my Dad eat anything more processed than a pretzel.  My Dad is no hippie, he missed that generation by a generation and he certainly doesn’t buy in to all this slow food (as he would say, ‘horse-shit’), but he is the original whole foods man. And it’s probably and quite simply because when he was a kid such things did not exist.  If he wants a snack he eats peanuts or pistachios.  He doesn’t even eat cereal.  But he likes EZ cheez.  He has a traditional pastime of sitting on the couch drinking wine while writing a book about wine and watching Monday Night Football with the cat on his lap squeezing that EZ cheez onto a club cracker, and of course, occasionally straight in to his mouth.  How could you resist?

And the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.  The other day I made the mistake of going to Trader Joe’s hungry.  I came home with something called ‘Pub cheese’.  It should have been called ‘tub cheez’ because that’s what it was; a tub of EZ cheez with some horseradish.  It was de-freaking-licious.  Jim had a hard time staying out of it too.

So I have a very easy cheese recipe, but it’s elegant and comes with a Jaques Pepin pedigree. I came across this in Food & Wine years ago and it solves many problems.  First; what to do with all those tiny bits of leftover cheese in the fridge.  And second; how to make a ‘wow‘ appetizer in no time.  I find it works best with part stinky cheese, like blue, part creamy, like goat or fontina and a little salty cheese, like parmesan or feta.  But any combination of cheese scraps will work fine.  

Frommage Fort - from Jaques Pepin

1 cup cheeses, shredded or crumbled

3 garlic cloves (I roast mine first because I do not like the sharp taste of garlic)

1/4 cup dry white wine

pepper

Roast the garlic. I place them in a 350 oven tossed with a little olive oil and roast for 15 minutes.  Mince the garlic.  Place cheeses, wine, pepper and garlic in a food processor and process until smooth, about 30 seconds.  Fill two 4 ounce ramekins with the mixture, place on a cake sheet and place in the broiler for about three minutes or until bubbly and browned.  Serve with table water crackers or crostini.

Click here for the original recipe.

Haussner's Hon

I have said it a thousand times, I’m not a sweets person.  But there are two desserts from my childhood that I find myself craving.  Both are from storied old school Baltimore restaurants; the fabled pine nut roll at Tio Pepe’s and the strawberry pie from Haussner’s.  The truly frustrating part is it’s very hard to find a recipe for either on the magic eight ball of the internet.  This, of course, only intensifies the mystique surrounding them and my desire to eat them.  

My Dad was a member of both the Baltimore and Washington D.C. Wine and Food Societies and he would host a dinner for each about once a year.  These parties were a big deal, well, they certainly were a big deal to a little girl.  Prior to the party we would move the dining room furniture in to the living room (more space) ‘Don’t hit the walls Morg.  Careful, careful.  Goddamnit. I hit the wall.’ The silver also had to be polished and the decanters had to be washed, these were my jobs while my Dad handled dinner.  The dinner menu went like this: the main course was shad roe if it was available, if not, cornish game hens or beef tenderloin served with asparagus or green beans and a side of either wild rice or potatoes.  The appetizers were always a selection of cheeses and pate from Charlie at the Cross Street Market and these were assuredly served with stone ground wheat crackers in the sky blue box. And the dessert was always, always the pine nut roll from Tio’s and the strawberry pie from Haussner’s.  

Around five o’clock we would climb down to the wine cellar where my Dad would excitedly make his selections.  Making proclamations about who he could fool with what wine during the blind tasting part of the evening.  “Old so-and-so won’t know what hit him, oh yeah boy! Won’t know what hit him!  Woo!’  Then I would assist my dad in decanting his wine selections. And for the record, sometimes he cheated and used a Melita coffee filter.  ‘Don’t say anything Morg!  Dear God!  Some people say it changes the taste of the wine, it’s malarky! Malarky!’ Then I would wait, not so patiently, for the guests to arrive.  I would help gather coats and greet people.  Once everyone had arrived I could perform my parlour trick of sniffing and blind guessing a wine to my father’s beaming pride.  Then it was off to bed to the smell of shallots and meat juices and to the sound of clinking glasses and laughter.  

In the morning, while my Dad was still sleeping off all his hard work, I would come downstairs to the wine stained kitchen and help myself to the leftovers for breakfast.  Nothing says bachelor dad like sitting on the kitchen counter eating pate and strawberry pie for breakfast.  A great breakfast and one I always looked forward to, it was only improved when I was old enough to drink coffee with it.  What made this pie so special were the contrasts.  A buttery crust with a creamy vanilla under layer hiding beneath sweet and tart fruit with crispy almond slivers on top.  It was hard to stop eating, especially when interspersed with bites of pate on stale stoned ground wheat crackers.

Haussner’s closed years ago, taking the pie with it.  That pie was part of Baltimore.  I feel like they should have at least given the recipe to the Maryland Historical Society.  Research didn’t really help, none of the recipes I found on the internet felt right, they were either missing the cream layer or loaded in fake flavoring or color.  And while I don’t doubt Haussner’s may have used artificial enhancers, I could not.  I decided I would have to make my own version; more of an ode to the Haussner’s pie rather than a recreation.  A trip to the farmer’s market last week had beautiful tiny strawberries, tart and precious, nothing like red behemoths at the grocery store, these were my inspiration.  Three things were imperative: creamy filling, crispy almonds and glazed strawberries.

So before I dug in to this pie I was a little hesitant.  It certainly wasn’t a pretty pie.  I don’t have a piping bag. I just sort of squirted the whipped cream of all over the place, which is obvious from the picture.  I also made a couple junior mistakes, like forgetting pie weights until 1/2 way through baking the pie shell.  And there was a good level of improvisation that shouldn’t happen when baking.  But when I took my first bite I surprised myself, it tasted a hell of a lot like childhood.  There was an eye roll followed by an expletive and I gobbled down the rest of my piece. And I was kicking myself for not purchasing pate instead of Spanish chorizo at the farmer’s market the day before.  

If you too miss Haussner’s strawberry pie, give it a try.  I don’t think you’ll be disappointed and I’d love to hear your thoughts.  

Haussner’s inspired Strawberry Pie - Serves 8

Pie Crust - Adapted from the Bouchon Cookbook

2 1/4 cups flour

1 teaspoon kosher salt

8 ounces (2 sticks or 16 tablespoons) cold unsalted butter, cubed

1/4 cup ice water

1/4 cup toasted almond slivers, ground in food processor

Flour

Make the dough a day ahead.  Place 1 cup flour and salt in standing mixer with dough hook attachment, turn on low and add the butter a handful at a time, in about 4 batches, increase to medium speed and when butter is incorporated, stop machine, scrape down sides or dislodge dough from mixing arm, turn on low again and slowly add in remaining flour, followed by the water, mix until just incorporated.  Remove and divide in to two, wrap one disk in plastic wrap and freeze for later use.  Return the other half to the mixer and add in the ground almonds, turn on low until incorporated.  Shape in to a disk, wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.

Roll it out on floured surface to about 12” in diameter.  Place in a pie pan, top with parchment or aluminum foil and place pie weights or dried beans on top.  Bake at 350 in the center of the oven for 45 minutes or until lightly browned at the edges.  Place on a wire rack and cool completely.

Pastry Cream - Adapted from the Baltimore Sun

1 cup milk

3 egg yolks

1/4 cup + 2 tablespoons sugar

2 teaspoons vanilla

1/4 cup all purpose flour

1 1/2 tablespoons unsalted butter

This can also be a day ahead. Scald the milk in a sauce pan, set aside.  Meanwhile whisk together the egg yolks and sugar.  Temper the egg yolk mixture by slowly adding the milk, whisking until incorporated.  Return the mixture to the sauce pan and working over a medium heat continue to whisk.  The mixture will begin to thicken, it may look lumpy, keep whisking.  I found my mixture to be done when it had a pudding like consistency and appeared to ‘breathe’ when I stopped whisking it for a moment. Remove from heat. Add the vanilla and butter and stir to incorporate.  Cover the surface with buttered wax paper.  Allow to cool to room temperature before putting in the fridge.

Whipped Cream

1 cup whipping cream

1 teaspoon vanilla

Whip together the cream and vanilla to desired consistency. 

Strawberry Topping

3 1/5 cups strawberries, hulled, and sliced if necessary

2 tablespoons strawberry preserves

1/4 cup almond slivers, toasted

Spread the pastry cream in to the bottom of the pie shell with a spatula.  Top the pastry cream with the strawberries.  Microwave the preserves for about 30 seconds.  Using a pastry brush, gently brush the preserves on to the strawberries.  Let cool in the fridge for a couple hours.  When ready to serve, pipe the whipped cream around the outer edge of the pie and sprinkle with the almond slivers.

Starting Over

I’m back.  Yet another winter delay.  However, even if I had found a way to light the blog I’m not sure I could have found the time; Jim and I have been quite busy the past 6 months.  We have been to Mississippi, Louisiana, North Carolina, South Carolina, Indiana, Illinois, California, Germany, France, Luxembourg, the British Virgin Islands and Florida. 

And you know we ate our faces off everywhere we went. Hamburgers in Mississippi. Restaurant August and La Petite Grocery in New Orleans. Frogmore stew with the family in South Carolina. Spiny lobsters, snapper ceviche, plantains and the ubiquitous conch fritters in Tortola.  Macarons in Luxembourg.  Sausage this, currywurst that, a pork chop here and a pork loaf there, and, yes, lots of beer, in Germany. 

We also bought a new house in the interim as well.  Moving created some culinary challenges.  Well, to be honest, I created them for myself.  Just to add a little thrill factor to the challenge of moving at some point I stopped going to the grocery store.  I was determined we would eat as much of our existing pantry as possible, lest we have to pack and move it.  Everyone was warned ‘If you bring it in this house you better eat it.’  I also found out in the moving process that apparently I am a condiment hoarder.  My refrigerator door contained exactly 2 tablespoons of condiments from about 30 countries. Of course these condiments were not housed in 2 tablespoon vessels.  I managed to break up with my condiment collection.

Needless to say with all of this going on I haven’t really been cooking like myself.  And I don’t know what that means, I just know I haven’t been doing it.  So I am ready to refocus, or as Jim likes to call it ‘Summer of I have to wait 10 minutes for my dinner to be photographed before I can eat it.’  

So, I started with an old favorite that I have not made in about a year. After Jim patiently waited for the photography he deemed it ‘a tasty little snack’.

Grilled Mango Bruschetta – Makes 16-20 pieces

1 Baguette

2 Mangos

2 Garlic cloves, sliced in half lengthwise

1 ½ cups Fontina, grated

¼ cup Basil, chopped

Olive oil

Honey or Agave Nectar

Maldon, Fleur de Sel or some type of sea salt

Pre-heat the broiler.  Set up a charcoal grill for direct heat grilling.  Oil the grill grate.  Slice the baguette on the bias.  Peel the mango and slice in to large chunks to keep them from falling through the grate of the grill.  Toss the mango with about 1.5 tablespoons of olive oil.

Place the bread slices on a baking sheet, rub them with the garlic halves then brush lightly with olive oil.  Place them in the broiler until lightly toasted, this was 1.5 minutes for my broiler but I recommend checking the bread every 30 seconds to make sure it does not burn.  Remove the bread from oven and set aside.  When the grill is hot, it takes my grill about ½ an hour to get hot (we use a Weber kettle with mesquite briquettes) put the mango on and grill for about 2 minutes per side until nice char marks appear and the mango is slightly cooked but not falling apart.

Remove the mango from the grill and slice in to ¼” slices.  Place 2 slices of mango on each toast, top with Fontina and return to the broiler for another 90 seconds (or whatever it take for the cheese to become bubbly).  Remove from the oven and top with basil, drizzle some honey or agave nectar then sprinkle with a bit of sea salt.  Serve immediately.

My Very Best for Thanksgiving

I developed this dish for my friend Jayme’s birthday. Somehow we have gotten in the tradition of cooking a French bistro meal every year in celebration of her day of birth. Last year I attempted duck confit. Two auditions later I had a lot of duck fat and no main course. I punted and planned to make rack of lamb and daupinoise gratin. Escargot, as usual, were the appetizer and of course she was getting a pear clafoutis for her birthday cake. But what to serve as a vegetable? I exhaustively researched vegetable side dishes. I consulted Jaques, Julia, Tony, Thomas and numerous websites and blogs. Nothing, absolutely nothing, ‘went’ with the planned meal.

Now, this may sound like an exaggeration to you, but it was the truth. I had criteria. It could not be salad, we already had a first course. This dish could not contain cream or cheese, that would make the potatoes redundant. It had to be a fall vegetable. It had to be green. And it couldn't be too complicated. Because obviously I wasn’t complicating the matter at all. Artichokes, too messy. Asparagus, uninspired. Brussels sprouts, last year’s news. Spinach, wrong texture. Broccoli, yawn. Zucchini, bigger yawn. I wanted green beans but not just regular old green beans or even green beans almandine. Wait, green beans almandine, then it popped into my head ‘What about green beans with chestnuts?’ Then it grew ‘What about green beans with chestnuts sauteed in the leftover duck fat?’

When I had it worked out in my head I knew it was going to be good. How could it not be? I ran out and bought a jar of chestnuts and came home and made it for Jim that night. The green beans got the eye roll of approval from Jim. The chestnuts caramelize, the green beans remain crisp with a little char and the duck fat provides a sweet, earthy background. We have decided it is the perfect side dish for Thanksgiving. We served it last year and we are serving it again this year and I suspect the year after and the year after.

Green Beans & Chestnuts Sauteed in Duck Fat - Serves 6

1 lb. green beans, ends trimmed

2 tablespoons duck fat, rendered

12 chestnuts sliced in to 1/4” slices

salt

Heat a pot of salted water and bring to a simmer. Meanwhile prepare an ice bath. Blanch the green beans in the salted water for 1 minute. Plunge in the ice bath. Let cool in the ice bath for several minutes. Drain and dry the green beans. This step can be done the night before. Heat the duck in a heavy bottomed skillet over medium high heat until sizzling loudly (about 1 minute). Add the green beans and the chestnuts at the same time. Saute until green beans have taken on a slight char or patina and the chestnuts have caramelized, about 4 minutes. Finish with salt and serve.

From the Archives

At the age of 10 I crafted my first culinary creation with my neighbor John; it was called the cheese melt. It was a piece of white bread with some yellow stuff pretending to be butter and a single slice of cheddar cheese on top placed in the microwave for 17 seconds. More time than that the cheese scorched, less than that and the goo factor was not acceptable. It was best when eaten molten hot, folded in half. It only took seconds to eat it because you had to race the cheese before it poured out of the ends and burned an unsuspecting body part or the cat.

During high school I was able to master more conventional and appetizing dishes such as pesto sauce and baked salmon. But the early college years brought a new method of cooking that can only be described as the dump, stir and wait culinary school. This involved the development of (groan, how predictable) stir fry! Mine featured chick peas and cabbage and a variety of dried spices, like mustard powder. I cringe.

The first college years also brought the equally predictable vegetarian chili. Working in tandem again, I developed this recipe with my friend Suzy in her college apartment. It was not a burning desire to eat chili that gave way to this recipe but rather it was actually a scam to get another, of age student, to bring the wine. The box of wine. We figured we could master chili quickly and easily. I had never made or had chili aside from the Stouffer’s boil-in-bag kind. I don’t know if Suzy had either but she is from New Mexico which gave us some credibility. We must have had some basic recipe to get us started, but I couldn’t tell you from where. The internet was not for use by the general public and I can’t imagine we had many cookbooks. I can only guess that Suzy’s mom got us started or I found something at the school library.

After college was over, after the requisite traipse through European youth hostels, and before my job in Texas started I was in post collegiate limbo. I was employed at both a consignment shop and a bookstore. I lived with my childhood friend, Mattie, in her childhood home in Waverly. I was always surrounded by my friends. We were always laughing. We entertained ourselves with trips to the reservoir for skinny dipping (peer pressure) in the middle of the night, making our own mad-libs about each other, creating dioramas, playing pool, watching the X-Files and writing sardonic essays about the state of our fellow barflies. On one of those perfect fall days I was making the chili. A blimp was circling outside and my friend Tim was reading articles (yes the real articles) aloud from a Playboy that had somehow made its way into our home.

‘You need cinnamon in there.’ I looked at him to see if he was joking. ‘No, seriously, you need cinnamon in there, for the beans.’

‘I do?’

‘Yup. I do it all the time. Seriously, just a little.’

And there it was; the secret ingredient, it had been hiding in a granola bar all this time.

I'd like to say the recipe has remained virtually unchanged with the exception of the cinnamon in the 20 years since Suzy and I set out to score a box of Franzia but I'm pretty sure it has evolved with me. I think I have it exactly where I want it now. I’ll add some bragging rights: this chili won second place in a chili competition that did not, at the time, have a vegetarian category.

Thanks Timmy, I still owe you a wok for the stir fry gone awry.

Vegetarian Chili - Serves a bunch (8-12)

2 14 oz. cans dark kidney beans

1 14 oz. can black beans

2 28 oz. can peeled tomatoes (I cut them in to smaller bits in the can with kitchen scissors)

2 green bell peppers (chopped in to 1” chunks)

1 red or yellow bell pepper (chopped in to 1” chunks, the total amount of all peppers should be about 4 cups chopped)

2 large or 3 medium Spanish onions (4-4.5 cups chopped in to 1/2” chunks)

8 garlic cloves (2 tablespoons minced)

3 tablespoons chili powder

1 tablespoon paprika

1 teaspoon cayenne

1.5 teaspoons cumin

1/4 teaspoon cinnamon

2 teaspoons crushed red pepper

3 tablespoons olive oil

Drain and rinse the beans. I had a rather heated discussion with Jim about rinsing the beans recently, and he reluctantly admitted that rinsing the beans cut down on the negative after effects of his chili in a surprisingly wonderful way. Heat the olive oil over medium heat in a large pot. Add the onions and saute until they just start to think about becoming translucent. Add in the garlic and saute for another 3-5 minutes. Add in the peppers and continue to cook for another 5-7 minutes. They want to be al dente. Add in the chili powder and paprika and saute for another minute. Then add in the tomatoes and bring to a slight simmer. Add in the beans and the remaining spices. Simmer for about 1-15 minutes. The vegetables still want to have some texture and crispness to them. Serve with whichever chili condiments float your boat.