I'm Pissed, Therefore I Cook

Let me explain. I was feeling like hell on a beautiful Friday night and I was pissed about it. Nothing sounded good and my tummy hurt like someone kept kicking me in it repeatedly, so I just laid in bed and watched Food TV until something clicked. And guess what it was? Milkshakes!

So yeah, I made myself a strawberry milkshake with Tillamook Vanilla Bean Ice Cream and strawberries. And milk. And then, since I was still feeling pouty, I decided to go to my happy place and cook, Oregon-style.

I had morels from the market that I let dry out (which I deserve to be kicked in the stomach for), so I reconstituted them in some warm water, then sauteed them with butter and garlic. I also had asparagus from the market, and since mushrooms and asparagus are best friends, I figured I'd go with it. I sliced the asparagus and blanched it, boiled some whole wheat macaroni I found in the pantry, then added the morels, asparagus, and pasta to a large skillet. I added a squeeze of lemon juice and a splash of white wine, then tossed the whole thing with freshly grated Parm and black pepper. I also threw a Thai chile in there because I f-ing wanted to.

I even plated it before I realized that it wasn't enough. I mean, it was enough food, but it wasn't angry enough. It was way too sterile. If angry food isn't deep fried or sweat-through-your-eyes spicy, it better at least have some fat in it. So, I grabbed some half and half from the fridge and reduced it in the skillet with another splash of wine and some pepper. A little more grated Parm and then I retossed everything together. Much better.

(Alright, it took me two tries to make the psuedo-half-assed cream sauce. The first time I completely forgot how to cook and added everything at the wrong time and it broke. Stupid delicate cream.)

Oh, yeah, and I topped the pasta with some toasted filberts. (Those are hazelnuts, you know.) This is my ode-to-Oregon pasta. Local nuts, local veg, local 'shrooms. It's kind of like trail mix, but it's pasta. It's Oregon Trail Mix Pasta. Maybe that's what I should have called this post. No, I think being pissed was more of the theme.

It was kind of good, but honestly, I wasn't really even hungry. My tummy was still feeling kicked in and I was kind of full from the milkshake, which I had first, but I was just in the mood to cook. Because I was pissed. Hence the title.

I planned on hanging out with my milkshake and my angry pasta in the living room while watching a mind-numbing TNT movie, but nothing was on! What the hell? Then, I remembered that my friend gave me a new book to read, so I decided to light some nag and do that instead. It turned out to be a much better idea, so I owe him one.

Serve your Angry Oregon Trail Mix Pasta and milkshakes with anything by Beirut, which I am currently ODing on because it's so bloody good and I can't stop listening to it. I was turned onto this by the same friend who gave me the book, so I guess I owe him two.

*Health Note: calcium is a highly important mineral, especially for women, and studies show that most women only get about half the recommended daily intake. Dairy is an excellent source of calcium because it also contains lactose, which helps the body absorb calcium. Oh, and there is also evidence that calcium helps to reduce PMS. Now we're all happy. Bet you didn't think I could justify the milkshakes and creamy pasta. Ha. In your face.

Loaded Potatoes, Redeemed

The loaded potato is notoriously awful, health-wise. I mean, if you really didn't clog your arteries with all the butter and sour cream on a normal restaurant-style baked potato, go ahead and add bacon and cheese whiz to put you over the edge. Thanks a lot, T.G.I. Friday's.

Well, it's not the potato's fault that corporate America stuffed it with crap, so I decided to redeem it. There's a little nod to the 80s in this recipe, too, because it is also a twice-baked potato. But not the kind with the piped swirl on top. So, if you also think the loaded potato deserves another chance, do this:

Cube one smallish sweet potato or yam and steam* until tender. Meanwhile, bake up two stuffable-sized potatoes, along with a few whole garlic cloves. Scoop out the inside of the baked potato, keeping the skin intact, and mash in a bowl with the sweet potato, garlic cloves, a bit of grated Parm, and some S & P. When it tastes good, return the mixture to the potato skins. The rest is up to you, but stay away from bacon and tube cheese or you'll ruin everything. I topped mine with caramelized sweet onions and sauteed crimini mushrooms with fresh thyme from the garden, and a very light sprinkling of organic sharp cheddar (a little goes a long way). That goes back into the oven until it's all bubbly and brown. (There's the twice baked part.) And, as if all of that weren't enough, I finished it off with a dollop of fat free plain yogurt and some chives, also from the garden. The tang of the yogurt is a great compliment to the sweetness of the potato innards. The best part about this whole thing is that you can eat it sans-guilt and save yourself the braincells you'd otherwise lose during a meal at a greasy chain restaurant. Thank God it's not pasteurized processed cheese product.

Sprinkle some paprika on top to complete the 80s charm.

We had some leftover guac in the fridge that was also a great topper.

Serve with the Wood Brothers' latest album, Loaded.

*Steaming is one of most nutritious ways to prepare food because it allows the vegetable to retain all those great vitamins and minerals you are counting on ingesting that can otherwise be lost during cooking. Also, the yogurt and sweet potato in this recipe not only make it taste really good, but also add a list of health benefits too long to write out without boring you, so just click on the links to learn more.

Kentucky Derby Trifecta: Hot Browns, Mint Juleps, and My Old Kentucky Home

If you're not from Kentucky and/or don't give a damn about horse racing, the first Saturday in May probably means nothing to you. However, for Kentuckians, this day marks a time-honored event more sacred than holy communion, more celebrated than Christmas, and more anticipated than your 21st birthday:

Derby.

This is a special time of year when Louisvillians set aside their differences and come together in a collective consciousness of gut-splitting, joyful debauchery that can only be achieved via the delicate balance of horse race handicapping, gaudy hats, and bourbon-induced headaches. As I've mentioned before, I'm from Louisville, and so am one of the blessed ones who knows the true level of exorbitant bliss spewing from all corners of the city during Derby. And I get to scoff at the rest of the quiet, unknowing world for missing out. Sad for you.

This can actually be seen in billboard form around Louisville during Derby season.

Anyway, onto gastronomy. Derby Day is one of the only times, like ever, I wish I was somewhere other than Portland, so I (obviously) start to seep nostalgia from my pores when it comes around and I force my friends to choke down as much bourbon as possible and eat my Kentucky food. When I start to wax philosophic about the sacrosanctity of true Kentucky cuisine, the obvious thing that comes to mind is the Hot Brown. If you don't know what I'm talking about, the Hot Brown is a dish created by the chef at the famous Brown Hotel in Louisville back in the 1920s. It's called an open-faced turkey sandwich, but most Hot Browns you come across in Louisville are more of a bubbly, cheesy explosion than anything resembling a sandwich. The true origin and recipe can be found on the Brown Hotel's website. The other thing about the Hot Brown is that, save for the Brown Hotel's original recipe, everyone has their own version of it. So, being from Louisville, I say that a true Kentucky Hot Brown is the one you decide to make yourself after having sampled them in at least 5 different Louisville eateries. Oh, and it has to have criss-crossed bacon strips on top.

OK, so that's a little bit lax. To be a Hot Brown, you must have bread, turkey, Mornay sauce, bacon, and a broiler. Then you can get creative. My recipe was a combination of the Brown, another legendary Louisville hot spot called Lynn's Paradise Cafe, and my own personal Kentucky elitism. Lynn's is known for it's exorbitant portions and over-the-top, well, everything, so of course they make a good, gut-busting Hot Brown.

Here's my recipe:
-thick slices of sourdough bread
-sliced roast turkey (or deli turkey, if that's all you can get)
-sharp cheddar Mornay sauce (recipe below)
-peppered bacon strips
-grated Parm
-sliced tomatoes

Sharp Cheddar Mornay Sauce:
A Mornay sauce is essentially a classic béchamel with melted cheese in it. So, make a roux of equal parts flour and butter, then add 3 cups of 2% milk and stir to thicken. To that, add a large handful of grated sharp white cheddar cheese and a smaller handful of grated Parm. (I can't remember the exact measurements of the cheese, so just keep tasting it.) Season with S&P, a pinch of nutmeg, and cayenne pepper to taste.

Assembly:
Place slices of bread on a baking sheet or in a baking dish, top with a hefty portion of turkey, then completely smother it with Mornay sauce. Place a few tomato slices in the dish/pan as well. Top "sandwich" with some more grated Parm and place under a broiler until the sauce is slightly browned and bubbling over with gooey, oily extravagance. Remove from broiler and top with crossed slices of crisp bacon, sprinkle with more Parm and chopped parsley, and serve with tomatoes on the side.

This is a knife-and-fork sangwich, y'all.

Now, drinks! You can't experience Derby without a mint julep, so I'm here to tell you how to make it the right way.

Derby Mint Julep:
-Early Times Kentucky bourbon (the official bourbon of the Kentucky Derby)
-mint-infused simple syrup
-crushed ice
-tall, thin glasses
-fresh mint sprigs

Make your simple syrup (boil 1.5-2 parts sugar to 1 part water until sugar dissolves), then add mint leaves and allow to cool for at least an hour or overnight. Fill your glass with crushed ice, pretty much to the top. Cubed will not do. Pour in about a shot of bourbon, top with mint syrup, and throw in some mint leaves. Now...this part is important...vigorously stir and rile up the entire cocktail until the outside of the glass gets icy from the condensation. Add a nice, big mint sprig and serve immediately. This is exactly how they're served at the Derby, so you know it's the right way.

Now you can have a kick ass Derby party and your friends will think you're authentic. And if you want to be like a real Louisvillian, try to be pretty drunk by the actual running of the Derby so you can stand in your living room and sing "My Old Kentucky Home" without feeling self-conscious. Other things you can say/yell to appear authentic:

-I think I left my hat at the Oaks.
-My exacta box was off by one damn horse!
-Did we make out at O'Shea's last night?
-Man, now Derby is so far away...
-Go baby go!!!!!

Complete the trifecta with Jerry Garcia Band's "Run for the Roses."

P.S. I apologize that there are no real Ameliorated health properties to these recipes, but I might remind you that the endorphins released during times of pleasure contribute to mental and physical well-being, and so, it's important to let loose every now and then. So go and ahead and do it up for Derby. For your health.