What's Cooking?

[Chief Grey Bear]

Oh and big yes on the pie!!

[ness]

A very Happy Plate

crappie time.jpg

This turned in to

Happy Plate.jpg

THIS

Fresh crappie with

Key Limes

Cilantro

Italian Parsley

Paprika...

Green Onions

Chives

Red Pepper

Salt n Pepper

Cover with Aluminum foil and Bake for 20 minutes at 350... some fresh mashed taters and country gravy to top it off.

Where da corn at? Them taters look nekkid!

[rps]

I could call the above a hamburger with cheese and stuffed potato. That would be correct.

On the other hand, what you are really looking at is ground chuck, seasoned with carmelized onions worked into it as well as Penzy Northwoods spices, salt, pepper, and Worcestershire sauce. The "cheese" is imported Gorgonzola. The potato is twice baked with a broccoli, sour cream, and butter mix.

Simple plates can be full of flavors.

[bs1827]

Rps, I'm definitely going to have to try that out. That looks amazing!

[Flysmallie]

Simple plates can be full of flavors.

Exactly.

[rps]

Tonight's entry is advisory. On the internet, look up Marcella Hazen's 5 ingredient spaghetti sauce. Buy Cento whole plum tomatoes in the large can and make a batch. Try it on angel hair. You will shock yourself. (BTW, I own her first and second cookbooks and they are worth the money.)

I used that sauce as the base and added fresh basil and garlic. I also prepared a romaine, tomato, and blanched asparagus salad.

You need to trust me on this one.

[BilletHead]

Hey Chief,

Tried to send you a PM. Would not go through ? Are you still going to be running up the highway in the morning?

BilletHead

[ness]

I'd like to start with a photo of tonight's entree:

Many of you will look at this and say, 'Oh yeah, goulash -- I learned to make that in Home-Ec'. But this is not goulash. Please read on.

I grew up in the Dust Bowl years, and it wasn't until I was 30 that I could quit work in the salt mines and attend elementary school. By then my family had overcome the hardships of The Depression, and moved to the blue-collar town of Independence, Missouri. At that time, Independence was known as the Gateway to the West and the hometown of Judge Harry S. Truman.

In the previous century, the three major trails westward -- the Santa Fe, California, and Oregon -- had originated in Independence, and the town was universally recognized as the last stop before the western frontier. Traders, speculators, dreamers, and hardened criminals (who had been driven out of St. Louis by the regular criminals), all converged in Independence to procure supplies for their long trek westward.

In the new century, Independence became an industrial center, with the Standard Oil Company employing more than 40 percent of its citizens. Over the years the ancestors of the St. Louis criminals of the previous century, bitter at the success of it's 'red-haired cousin' to the west, and keenly aware of the opportunities lost, convinced the notriously corrupt officials at the Federal Parks Administration that the 'gateway to the west' was St. Louis. The FPA -- under increasing scrutiny from the public due to a $12 thousand accounting discrepancy had rejected the idea of a monument to the western frontier located in the east-coast town of St. Louis in favor of the more suitable Independence. But a slick marketing campaign by the Post Dispatch, bankrolled by the corrupt French power brokers in St. Louis, convinced the gullible FPA officials, and the 'frontier' was relocated 250 miles to the east. The St. Louis stainless steel cartel made a series of 'donations', which coerced the FPA to scrap its plans for the modest 25-foot tall limestone 'Gateway Arch' in favor of a 640-foot stainless steel arch, on property owned by the well-connected LaClede family. History was rewritten.

Having it's heritage stripped away was devastating to the hard-working citizens of Independence. Tempers flared, and a vigilante group formed with the intention of traversing the state on the newly formed Inter-State Highway No. Seventy (later, I-70) to exact revenge. However, the heavy semi-trailor traffic, numerous detours, repair delays and lack of decent BBQ proved too much for the weary patriots, who abandoned their campaign near the hamlet of Lee's Summit. They retreated northwestward to the Mason's lodge on the downtown square in Independence, and decided the only way forward was to find a new identity for the city. Thus was born 'Independence, the Queen City of the Three Trails'.

Fast forward to mid-60s Independence. Three Trails Elementary was my school; through a gerrymandering of the school district boundaries, it was in the Kansas City School District. As a 30-something, well-built (due to my years toiling in the salt mines) male I was understandably quite popular. The girls flocked to me, asking me to be their partner in square dancing, to help them with their Dick and Jane, Chinese checkers (on rainy days), kick-ball, rope climbing, glossary, times-ing, or whatever. I had 27 invites to the Sadie Hawkins dance, and I accepted them all -- plus 4 others. It was the best of times.

It was then that my love of the culinary arts took root. The cafeteria served delicacies I had never experienced in our modest ½ bedroom bungalow. I immediately recognized my love for food and its preparation, and the hair-netted ladies on the other side of the snot guard recognized my potential and took me under their sweat-stained wings. I continued under their tutelage -- drawn in by their musky scent and Viking-like culinary skills -- until my graduation from elementary school some 11 years later. By then most of them has passed, but their recipes are forever mine -- scratched out on pages of a tattered Big Chief tablet with a Ticonderoga #2 pencil some 40 years ago.

No, this is not goulash. This is John Marzetti, and I prepare it in honor of Mrs. Palmer, Mrs. Davis, and all the other unnamed heroes of Three Trails Elementary cafeteria.

[Chief Grey Bear]

Hey Chief,

Tried to send you a PM. Would not go through ? Are you still going to be running up the highway in the morning?

BilletHead

Actually I was thrown a curve ball for today. I won't be going through Nevada.

Let's look at Monday. I'll send you a PM Sunday. Sorry.

[Chief Grey Bear]

I'd like to start with a photo of tonight's entree:

Many of you will look at this and say, 'Oh yeah, goulash -- I learned to make that in Home-Ec'. But this is not goulash. Please read on.

I grew up in the Dust Bowl years, and it wasn't until I was 30 that I could quit work in the salt mines and attend elementary school. By then my family had overcome the hardships of The Depression, and moved to the blue-collar town of Independence, Missouri. At that time, Independence was known as the Gateway to the West and the hometown of president Harry S. Truman.

In the previous century, the three major trails westward -- the Santa Fe, California, and Oregon -- had originated in Independence, and the town was universally recognized as the last stop before the western frontier. Traders, speculators, dreamers, and hardened criminals (who had been driven out of St. Louis by the regular criminals), all converged in Independence to procure supplies for their long trek westward.

In the new century, Independence became an industrial center, with the Standard Oil Company employing more than 40 percent of its citizens. Over the years the ancestors of the St. Louis criminals of the previous century, bitter at the success of it's 'red-haired cousin' to the west, and keenly aware of the opportunities lost, convinced the notriously corrupt officials at the Federal Parks Administration that the 'gateway to the west' was St. Louis. The FPA -- under increasing scrutiny from the public due to a $12 million accounting discrepancy (to the good) had rejected the idea of a monument to the western frontier located in the east-coast town of St. Louis in favor of the more suitable Independence. But a slick marketing campaign by the Post Dispatch, bankrolled by the corrupt French power brokers in St. Louis, convinced the gullible FPA officials, and the 'frontier' was relocated 250 miles to the east. The St. Louis stainless steel cartel made a series of 'donations', which coerced the FPA to scrap its plans for the modest 25-foot tall limestone 'Gateway Arch' in favor of a 640-foot stainless steel arch, on property owned by the well-connected LaClede family. History was rewritten.

Having it's heritage stripped away was devastating to the hard-working citizens of Independence. Tempers flared, and a vigilante group formed with the intention of traversing the state on the newly formed Inter-State Highway No. Seventy (later, I-70) to exact revenge. However, the heavy semi-trailor traffic, numerous detours, repair delays and lack of decent BBQ proved too much for the weary patriots, who abandoned their campaign near the hamlet of Lee's Summit. They retreated northwestward to the Mason's lodge on the downtown square in Independence, and decided the only way forward was to find a new identity for the city. Thus was born 'Independence, the Queen City of the Three Trails'.

Fast forward to mid-60s Independence. Three Trails Elementary was my school; through a gerrymandering of the school district boundaries, it was in the Kansas City School District. As a 30-something, well-built (due to my years toiling in the salt mines) male I was understandably quite popular. The girls flocked to me, asking me to be their partner in square dancing, to help them with their Dick and Jane, Chinese checkers (on rainy days), kick-ball, rope climbing, glossary, times-ing, or whatever. I had 27 invites to the Sadie Hawkins dance, and I accepted them all -- plus 4 others. It was the best of times.

It was then that my love of the culinary arts took root. The cafeteria served delicacies I had never experienced in our modest ½ bedroom bungalow. I immediately recognized my love for food and its preparation, and the hair-netted ladies on the other side of the snot guard recognized my potential and took me under their sweat-stained wings. I continued under their tutelage -- drawn in by their musky scent and Viking-like culinary skills -- until my graduation from elementary school some 11 years later. By then most of them has passed, but their recipes are forever mine -- scratched out on pages of a tattered Big Chief tablet with a Ticonderoga #2 pencil some 40 years ago.

No, this is not goulash. This is John Marzetti, and I prepare it in honor of Mrs. Palmer, Mrs. Davis, and all the other unnamed heroes of Three Trails Elementary cafeteria.

That is a read alright!!

Did the poor souls put a bit of Wooster sauce in theirs?