Grilled Pork Chops with Tarragon Butter #SundaySupper

 

I'm lucky. I have a great dad. AND my husband is the best dad ever too. I don't know how I wound up with all the best dads. Once again, I must be lucky. How did I get so lucky? I don't know. Lucky I guess. 

And not only are my dad and my son's dad the best dads, several of my friends are also the best dads. There's Dave and Brian and Russ and Ho and Scott and Dylan and Steve and Jonathan and Mark and Geir and Bassi and John and Paul, and well, you get the picture. Lots of great, loving dads who work hard to love and care and inspire. 

The truth is, great dads never get the credit they deserve. Too often they get the beady eye when they enter mom territory like the park or the grocery store or school. One day, once a year, is just not enough to show dads how much we appreciate the hours of sitting on the floor playing with Legos; the screaming shoulders from carrying the kiddos around; the complete assumption of responsibility for life and security (even though we moms feel like we carry a lot of that too, so give yourselves a break sometimes); the reading, bathtime, lessons, affection, attention great dads put in every day.

But one day a year is all they get, so let's at least make it count. A nice piece of meat on the grill with a delicious herb butter melting with the juices into a luscious sauce. I think that says special occasion. I used pork chops for this recipe (from my favorite farm, Haskins Family Farm, of course), but steaks would work nicely too. What makes these pork chops especially good is the combination of a dry rub with a compound butter that includes tarragon, a herb with a slight licorice flavor. Tarragon is the herb that's used to flavor Bearnaise sauce, and this compound butter reminds me ever so slightly of that classic sauce. Serve up the pork chops with a baked potato and a green salad, and you have a nice summer meal. What am I saying? An amazing summer meal. 

The dry rub doubles easily and can be stored indefinitely in an airtight container. Also, feel free to mix up the spices any way you like. Just try to maintain the same proportions (4 parts sugar, 2 parts salt, about 2 parts spices). Similarly, the compound butter is easy to double. If you have any left, just roll it into logs and freeze for another occasion. (However, I like it on toast or crackers.)

Ingredients

• 2-4 large pork chops, about an inch thick

FOR THE DRY RUB

• 4 Tbsps brown sugar
• 2 Tbsps kosher salt
• 1 Tbsp smoked paprika
• 1/2 tsp each of dry mustard, ground white pepper, cayenne pepper, dried ginger, and cumin 

FOR THE COMPOUND BUTTER

• 4 Tbsp butter, softened
• 2 Tbsp fresh tarragon, finely chopped
• 2 cloves of garlic, crushed
• 1/2 tsp kosher salt

Instructions

1. Prepare the dry rub: Mix sugar, salt, and spices into an even mix. 
2. Rinse the pork chops, pat them dry. Place them on a large plate. Sprinkle about a tablespoon of dry rub on both sides of every pork chop. Place in the refrigerator for at least 20 minutes, up to 24 hours. Let them sit at room temperature for at least 20 minutes before putting them on the heat.   
3. Prepare the compound butter by blending butter, chopped herbs, crushed garlic, and salt into an even paste. Set aside for now. 
4. Fire up the grill. (I have a strong preference for charcoal, but if you've got a gas grill, well, I suppose you must.)
5. When the fire is medium hot, place the pork chops on the grill. Cook them for five to seven minutes on each side. Check the internal temperature with a meat thermometer. According to my thermometer, the internal temp should be 160 degrees. However, I usually pull the pork chops off the grill at about 155 to avoid drying them out.  
6. Take the pork off the heat. Put a tablespoon of the tarragon butter on each pork chop and let them rest for 10 minutes before serving. 

Happy Father's Day! And, if you would like a little more Father's Day goodness, check out #SundaySupper, a group of food bloggers who are trying to highlight the importance of connecting with family and friends for a Sunday meal. #SundaySupper is the brainchild of Isabel at Family Foodie.

Here is the whole #SundaySupper menu and links to participating blogs:

Father's Day Brunch:

• Dad's Omelette Bar Small Wallet Big Appetite
• Peanut Butter and Honey for Father's Day Breakfast Yummy Smells
• Healthy French Toast In the Kitchen with Audrey
• Paska Hezzi-D's Books and Cooks
• Sausage McFelix Breakfast Sandwich Diabetic Foodie

Dad's Favorite Soup, Salads, and Bread:

• Phil's Pasta Tuna Salad The Watering Mouth
• Simple German Potato Salad and Wiener Wursts German Foodie
• Roasted Beet Soup Vintage Kitchen Notes
• Dad's Cornbread Magnolia Days

Father's Day Favorite Mains:

• Greek Burger Bobbi's Kozy Kitchen
• Dad's Favorite Roast Beef Mrs. Mama Hen
• Sonoran Hot Dogs Damn Delicious
• Bacon Stuffed Jucy Lucy Burger Are You Hungry?
• Spicy Roast Salmon in Coconut Sue's Nutrition Buzz
• Dad's Pride-of-Mobile Fried Oysters Pescetarian Journal
• Smoked Baby Back Ribs Girl in the Little Red Kitchen 
• Beef Tongue in Tomato Sauce Basic and Delicious
• Bibim naeng myun Kimchi Mom
• Chicken Biryan Soni's Food for Thought
• Black Beans and Brown Rice Mama's Blissful Bites
• Bacon Recipes for Dad Momma Cuisine
• Curry Fish with Mixed Vegetables My Trials in the Kitchen
• Roast Beef Roll Ups Daily Dish Recipes

Dad's Sweet Tooth:

• Bread and Butter Pudding Cositas Bonitas
• Tin Roof Sundae Ice Cream famfriendsfood
• Coconut Cream Pudding Chocolate Moosey
• Rich & Fluffy Banana Pudding Parfait The Meltaways
• Black Forest Cheesecake Cravings of a Lunatic
• Macadamia Nut Cookies Pippi's in the Kitchen Again
• Peach Cobbler Bars Juanita's Cocina
• Iced Cookie Bars That Skinny Chick Can Bake!
• Pudim Molotoff, Portuguese Meringue Pudding Family Foodie

Wine Pairings for Father's Day ENOFYLZ

And don't forget to join the conversation on Twitter. Just follow the hash tag #SundaySupper.

Root vegetable chowder with bacon

I don't even remember the last time I posted, but then again most of the last week and a half are lost in a haze. I've been sick with a virus that went into the lungs and became bronchitis. For seven days, my temperature would cycle up to 103.5 degrees and then back down to a "normal" of around 101. I alternately froze and shivered like a naked person in Siberia or poured out sweat like Niagara. It wasn't fun. But it's starting to clear up now, and for that I am grateful.

The last thing I cooked before I went down for the count about a little over a week ago was a root vegetable chowder with bacon. It surprised me how delicious it was because it started with the inauspicious need to clean out the larder a bit. We just had too many wrinkly roots lying around, and something needed to be done with them before they went bad. I ended up using a combination of potatoes, sweet potatoes, parsnips, and small white turnips.

It all ended up being a rich, warm, deeply satisfying soup that's thickened by the starch in the potatoes. Good enough that two grown men (Mike and Uncle Dave) stood around the nearly empty pot after dinner scraping with their spoons to get every last bit. That's a real compliment to a cook.

I suspect you can use any combination of root vegetables you have available as long you think about balancing sweet and mild with bitter. And hell, throw in some thinly sliced greens at the end of the cooking if you have them. 

Make sure your root vegetables are all cut to even sizes. This is a good way to practice your knife skills!

Ingredients

• 2 Tbsp butter
• 5 slices thick-cut bacon, sliced thinly
• 1 and 1/2 medium yellow onions (or 1 large), diced finely 
• 3 yellow potatoes, peeled, 1/4 inch dice
• 2 small-medium sweet potatoes, peeled, 1/4 inch dice
• 1 parsnip, peeled, 1/4 inch dice
• 4 small white turnips, peeled, 1/4 inch dice
• 2 cloves garlic, crushed
• 4 cups chicken stock (homemade preferable, but a good organic broth will do just fine)
• 1 cup half and half
• salt and white pepper

What to do

1. Melt butter in a large stock pot. Fry the pieces of bacon in the butter until the bacon is brown and crispy. Take the bacon out of the pot, set it aside to drain on paper towels for the time being. 
2. Lower the heat to medium-low and add the onions to the pot. Let them sweat for about 10 minutes, stirring from time to time. Don't let them get crispy. They should be soft and translucent. (They will probably pick up some brown from the bacon fat, but don't worry about that.)
3. Raise the temperature to medium. Add the vegetables to the pot. Stirring from time to time, let them soften and brown a bit, about 10 minutes.
4. Add the stock and the crushed garlic to the pot. Bring the liquid up to a boil and then lower the temperature to a simmer. Let it cook for 20-30 minutes, until the vegetables soften and some of them start to fall apart a bit. If the stock isn't a bit thick at this point, let the vegetable cook for another 5-10 minutes to get more starch into the water.  
5. Add half and half and salt and pepper to taste. Bring the temperature up but don't let the soup boil again (if you do, the half and half can curdle, which won't kill you but definitely ruins the texture of the soup). Add the reserved bacon back into the soup and serve. 

 

Perfect fall rainy-day comfort food: Lobster mac and cheese

The tree across the street lights up like a red flame every time I open the door--especially on dark, gray, and gloomy days like today. The temperature has a bit of an edge, but the cold hasn't really set in yet. Still, it was a nice day for some rich ooey gooey comfort food like lobster mac and cheese. Of course, lobster is a luxury ingredient, but every once in a while, it's nice to splurge. This mac and cheese is almost as comforting without the lobster, or you can add some cooked, crumbled bacon and peas to replace it. (I confess I belong to that tribe of people who nearly worship bacon.)

Baked mac and cheese comprises three main parts: the pasta, the cheese sauce, and the crumbly topping. The pasta is easy enough--just read the package instructions. The cheese sauce is basically a Mornay sauce (or a Bechamel sauce with cheese in it), and the crumbly topping is a crispy mix of fresh bread crumbs, garlic, and parsley. Diving into this dish is something like opening a surprise gift: First there is the crispy golden-brown crust. Break through that, and you find a warm, silky, cheesy pasta center. Yum.

So, here's how to make it. 

Start by preheating the oven to 350 degrees.

Part 1: The Pasta and the Lobster

• Cook 1 lb of macaroni (any shape you like, but small, chunky shapes seem to work best) according to package instructions. Drain and set it aside. 
• Pick over 1 lb of thawed lobster (or fresh if you have it) to remove any pieces of shell. Chop the meat into bite size pieces.    

Part 2: The Cheese Sauce

• 4 cups of shredded cheese (a blend of Gruyere and Cheddar is nice)
• 4 Tbsp butter
• 4 Tbsp AP flour
• 2 garlic cloves, peeled, smashed
• 2 cups whole milk
• salt (to taste)
• 1/8 teaspoon white pepper
• dash grated nutmeg

1. Melt the butter in a saucepan over medium-low heat. (Don't burn or brown the butter.)
2. Whisk the flour into the butter. Let the butter-flour mix simmer gently for a few minutes (don't let it brown). By the way, this is called a roux.
3. Vigorously whisk the butter-flour mix, while adding the milk slowly. Add the garlic pieces. Stirring steadily, let the sauce simmer and thicken for five to 10 minutes. 
4. Remove the garlic pieces and discard them. Add the cheese to the sauce one small handful at a time. (If you dump it all in at once, a big ole glob of cheese will sink to the bottom of your milk sauce, kerthud, and you won't be able to fix it, so take your time).
5. When all the cheese has melted evenly into the sauce, add salt (taste it, the levels of salt in cheese can vary a lot) starting with half a teaspoon at a time, white pepper, and nutmeg. Leave the sauce over low heat while you prepare the rest of the dish. 

Part 3: The Crumbly Topping

• 2 slices of bread, torn into pieces
• 1 small garlic clove
• 1 Tbsp dried parsley (fresh would be better, but you have to make do sometimes)

Whir the ingredients in a food processor or blender until you get an even, fresh breadcrumb mix.

Now, here's how to put it all together:

1. Butter a baking dish. Add the pasta to the baking dish. 
2. Add the sauce to the pasta and stir.
3. Add the lobster pieces (and any juices). 
4. Mix all the stuff together in the baking dish; make sure the sauce, the lobster, and the pasta are evenly distributed.
5. Sprinkle the crumb topping over the mix. 
6. Slide the baking dish into a 350-degree oven and let it cook for 50 minutes until you have a golden-brown dish of deliciousness. As for me, I think it may just be time for seconds...

 

Braised pork belly with wine, soy, and plum jam

I am still reeling from dinner--a delicious, savory piece of pork side (or belly) that I braised in a combination of wine, soy sauce, and plum jam for about five hours. So what what was so good about it: The meat was falling-apart tender, dark with soy sauce and wine, crusted with sweetness that perfectly balanced salt and umami. Oh and then there was the tender, juicy fat that spread around the mouth like the smoothest silk, carrying all those flavors with it. Oh so good. Made me feel like a raving carnivore. Yum.

I've never made anything with side pork before, but a few weeks ago when I was picking up my CSA share from Haskins Family Farm, Robert Haskins suggested that I try some. Not wanting to appear less than adventurous and/or knowledgeable, I said sure.

But I've been a little worried about it. I don't want to waste food because I don't know how to cook it right and make something that no one likes and we kind of pick at until it goes away. But that didn't happen. This recipe and method have stolen my heart. Moreover, the house has smelled amazing all day, and it was super easy. I can't wait to try this again on a cold winter day to heat up the place and make everything all nice and cozy. I am also trying to come up with something to do with the (very few) leftovers. (Maybe shred it and serve it with some pasta? On a sandwich, with some of the extra fat heated and drizzled over the bread? Hm. Choices, choices. Of course, the way I keep picking at the leftovers, I may not have leftovers by morning.)  

Side pork is more or less equivalent to pork belly, which is the cut of the pig that bacon is made from. (And bacon is one of foods of the gods, I am sure.) It contains a lot of fat in layers, so I wanted to try to render out as much of that possible and more or less use it to self-baste the meat. I also wanted to collect the rendered fat to use for something else later. Here's how to do it.

• 2 cups red wine (I used a nice Virginia Merlot)
• 3/4 cup soy sauce
• 2 lbs side pork
• 3 tablespoons plum jam 
• 5 cloves of garlic, peeled and smashed
• 1 onion, peeled and quartered
• salt
• ground pepper
• smoked paprika
• 5 peppercorns

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Place your pork side in a oven-proof glass dish. Season the meat very liberally with salt, ground pepper, and smoked paprika. Mix wine, soy sauce, plum jam, garlic, onions, and peppercorns and pour the mix into the glass dish. Tightly cover the dish with tin foil and put it in the oven for about five hours. Baste once per hour. When you take it out, let the meat rest for about 10 minutes before serving. Cut it into slices to serve. 

You can serve it with roasted root vegetables like I did. I cut beets, carrots, celery root, potatoes, and some Cipollini onions into bite-size pieces; tossed them in olive oil; sprinkled dried rosemary over them; and placed them in a 435-degree oven for about 50 minutes. Salt the vegetables when they are done to avoid drawing the moisture out during roasting. 

 

Holy basil, Batman! What can you do with this herb?

This Friday, September 23, marks the autumn equinox and thus the end of summer, which means a whole new season of foods and feelings. Fall is my favorite time of year, with its cooler temperatures, gorgeous colors, and bounty of squashes, apples, sweet potatoes--nice roasty-toasty foods that like a long simmer in flavorful stock or slow roasting in the oven.

But I am not going to talk about that--not yet anyway. No, this is a last hurrah for a summer herb: basil. I am sure people use basil all times of year, but for me, it evokes summer. Its spicy intensity plays especially well with fresh, juicy fruits with a lot of acid: tomatoes, peaches, plums. It's also lovely with watermelon. (Here's a great salad: halved cherry tomatoes, cubed watermelon, torn basil with a dash of salt and a splash of vinegar.) For a truly exquisite drink, make lemonade and add some smashed strawberries and slivered basil. You will be amazed that something as simple and delicious as lemonade could reach such heights.

The most common form of basil in cooking (at least here in the West) is a variety called Genovese basil (that's the one with the big, shiny leaves you often find in pots in grocery stores). In Latin, this type of basil is called Ocimum basilicum--a name that suggests the herb's history. Supposedly basil was found growing near the tomb of Christ, so the herb was frequently used in Orthodox churches (or basilicas) (1). Other sources indicate that basil was once regarded with fear and associated with the basilisk--a nasty reptilian monster that could kill with a glance or a breath (2). The herb is native to Africa, Asia, and India and features frequently in foods from those parts of the world.

Basil is part of the mint family (or Lamiacaes), which are easy to tell because they typically have square stems. Different varieties of basil have various culinary and medicinal uses. Opal basil has dark purple leaves, lavender flowers, and a strong scent of cloves; it's a beautiful plant in the garden. Thai basil, a variety with purple stems and flowers, is sweeter than Genovese and is often used in (surprise!) Thai cooking. I don't use opal or Thai basil too much because they are just a bit too strong for my taste, but I suspect that you could do some very interesting things with them in baking or making ice cream, especially in anything you would create with cinnamon, cloves, anise, or other spices of that nature. Medicinally, basil has been used to soothe upset stomachs (in a tea) and to calm anxiety and aid sleeping. I won't vouch for its effectiveness, but it isn't harmful. (3)

I have grown about 10 varieties of basil, including opal, Thai, lemon, lime, holy, and so forth, but these days I mostly stick to Genovese. Here is the basil I harvested last week:

Yes, I got a pretty good harvest of the stuff and kept it in fairly good condition, despite the brutally hot summer topped with a week of some of the heaviest rains we've seen around here (some of my favorite roads are still impassible because flooding washed parts of them away). I grew it from seed, which is pretty easy to do. The main things to remember when caring for basil plants are that they grow best in warm soil, they don't like to dry out completely (but they don't like to have wet feet either, so good drainage is important), and they like lots of sun. Also, to make sure that you get the best flavor, always pinch off the tops, especially if you see any signs of flowers. Flowering signals the death of an annual plant like basil; its flavor changes in rather unpleasant ways.

Basil is best fresh, but if you want to preserve some for winter days when you long for a memory of summer, your best bet is to freeze it. Dried basil is inferior in flavor, because those lovely volatile oils escape with the moisture as it dries. For best results, blend basil leaves (washed and dried) with a good olive oil and freeze the mixture in ice trays so that you can use a cube as you need it.

You can also make a flavored vinegar by pouring warm vinegar over basil leaves and letting it steep for a day or two. Make sure to strain the basil out though, because otherwise it gets slimy (ick) and becomes a potential breeding ground for bacteria (ickier).

Or, you can try growing basil in a pot in a sunny window. It won't grow as fast as it will outside in summer, but you may have enough to add a few leaves to your food now and then. Same rules apply inside as outside: sun, good drainage, moist soil, warmth, pinch off the flowers.    

And of course, there's always pesto, which freezes well and is easy-peasy to make in a food processor or blender. You'll need

• 2 cups washed and dried basil leaves
• 2 cloves garlic
• 1/2 cup grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese (4)
• 1/4 cup pine nuts (feel free to substitute walnuts or hazelnuts)
• 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
• salt
• fresh ground pepper

Put the garlic, cheese, and nuts in your food processor and blend until you get an even, crumbly mass. Then add the basil leaves and blend to a paste. 

Add olive oil to the paste in a steady stream.

Scrape down the sides and blend again.

Add some salt (about a quarter teaspoon) and some fresh pepper. Blend again. Hey presto, you've got pesto! (Did I really just say that?)

So what can you do with it? Well, there's the obvious one: Add it to fresh cooked pasta for a simple meal. You can also use it on bread as a sandwich spread (let's see, what do you think of a sandwich spread with some pesto and slices of chicken and tomatoes?), or mix it into some mayo. Use it to flavor soups and stews. Ooh, I know, drop a spoonful onto a bowl of fresh, homemade cream of tomato soup. Coat some chicken with it and bake it. Add a dollop to a mess of biscuits, that might be good. Use it instead of tomato sauce on a pizza. In other words, do whatever sounds good.   

(1) Bremness, Lesley. 1988. The Complete Book of Herbs: A Practical Guide to Growing and Using Herbs. New York: Penguin Studio. 

(2) Kowalchik, Claire, and William H. Hylton, eds. 1987. Rodale's Illustrated Encyclopedia of Herbs. Emmaus, PA: Rodale Press. 

(3) Ah, herbal medicine. It's a complicated topic. On the one side, you have airy-fairy "practices" like homeopathy using magical, mystical mumbo jumbo principles of "like curing like" (hm, where have I heard of that before, oh yeah, alchemy; I don't think we have a method for creating gold from lead yet or did I miss a front page?). On the other end, you have breast and lung cancer treatments that derive from varieties of yew trees (Taxus brevifolia and Taxus canadensis). Then there is a range between these extremes. One of the problems with using herbs is some of them really work, which means that they can be very toxic if you don't know how to use them properly. Most culinary herbs are not toxic (bay leaves being one exception), so the dangers of using herbs medicinally doesn't usually apply here, but I generally recommend against playing around with herbs as cures.   

(4) Parmigiano Reggiano is obviously not a local ingredient, but is one of those rare exceptions where you really can't substitute something else. The industrial powder that comes in a green can labeled parmesan is not the same species of creature, not the same family of creature--heck, not even the same kingdom! 

How to cook and dance at the same time

This is a public service announcement: Don't grate cheese and boogie at the same time.

I've been hammering away for days at a tough editing project, so food has gotten kind of short shrift at the homestead (Sorry family). Last night we got takeout. Who knows what we ate the day before. My head has been lost in a thick jungle of words that haven't made a whole lot of sense, and I had been slashing away with my editorial machete until my arms hurt and I lost my sight to a wicked migraine. Finally, today, I saw some light through the trees and finished up a rough section.

In need of a little R&R, I decided to throw on some tunes while cleaning up the kitchen and preparing my favorite go-to pasta dish. Mike and the Boo weren't home yet, so I decided to listen to ABBA--a nostalgia trip (I grew up in Sweden) and an invitation to dance (and not a favorite of my music snob of a husband).

The first song to come up was I Have a Dream, so I start to sway and sing along. Memories of being eight or nine years old, spending the summer with my cousin Tove in Stockholm, and putting on shows for the family with her started to break over me like crashing waves: "I have a dream/a song to sing/To help me cope with anything/If you see the wonder of a fairy tale/You can take the future even if you fail/" Then, the song rises up to "I believe in angels/Something good in everything I see," and my throat chokes up and tears slide down my face, even as I continue to sway and empty the dishwasher. Song after song, it goes like this: I am crying, my throat is too constricted to sing and yet I continue to force the notes out, and I am wondering: What the hell? It's ABBA, for pete's sake. Why am I crying?

But the crying feels good. It has that weird and wonderful cathartic feeling that laughing at a funeral can have when everyone is remembering someone they loved very much, telling goofy stories, and soaking in gratitude for life and the people who are still there with you. It's pain and it's joy rolled into one rich and overwhelming package--like eating something that's sweet and savory at the same time.

Next song up is Gimme Gimme Gimme (a Man After Midnight), the dishes are done. Time to make the pasta. I shimmy over to where I keep the big pasta pot, pick it up, twirl back to the sink and start filling it with water, toss a handful of salt in. While the pot is filling I get some some high kicks (or maybe not so high) going while I holler my head off (of course the back door is wide open, so I am keeping my eyes peeled for the neighbors). I boogie back to the sink, put the pot on the stove to boil. I grab a spring onion, a bundle of asparagus, two carrots, some bacon, and what's left of a box of sweet peas from the fridge.

I slice the spring onion and the carrots; snap the ends off the asparagus and cut it into one-inch pieces; peel some garlic; cut the ends off the peas. The bacon slides from the package, and "Mamma Mia, here I go again/My, my, how can I resist you?/Mamma Mia, does it show again?/My, my, just how much I missed you." Oh bacon, how much I've missed you. I haven't had any since Saturday. I slice it thinly.

The tears have dried up, the sweat is starting to flow, the bacon goes into a hot pan to render and fry into crispy little bits. "If you change your mind, I'm the first in line/Honey I'm still free, take a chance on me/If you need me, let me know, gonna be around." The water is boiling away, a pound of butterflies is in for a dip. The bacon fat has rendered out, the spring onion slices are in the pan, changing the scent in the room. Molecules tickle my nose, my memory, the smell of my Finnish grandmother's kitchen (crazy as a bedbug, I believe, but I remember the mouth feel and taste of her bread, of green salad with some strange but delicious white salad dressing). Mostly, there's a memory of feeling whole, in the right place, family all around, Tove's dad trying to make us laugh and twirling his handlebar mustache, the bowl of salad being passed around the table. Cool Nordic summer light drifts through the window. I am crying again. It all comes from a time when I was little, before my family broke irrevocably, and little has been whole since. In go the carrots, the asparagus, and the peas.

I bring back Gimme Gimme Gimme (a Man After Midnight) and pull out all the stops now. I am dusting off what steps I remember from years of dance classes while the vegetables cook in the pan and the pasta boils. I am busting some serious moves, even though I don't remember my joints being this stiff when I did them before. I am going to hurt tomorrow. I grate the Parmigiano Reggiano while bopping around. Turns out to be a mistake when I slice some skin off my thumb. No blood in the cheese though, and that's what matters.

Pasta is down to about three minutes on the boil, I pour a cup of half and half into the pan with the vegetables and add a cup of grated cheese (more actually, but I always like extra cheese). The sauce thickens in minutes. In go thyme and white pepper. When the pasta is cooked, I strain it, add it to the sauce, and stir. Dinner's done. Mike and the Boo aren't home yet. They went to the park. So I keep on dancing until they get home, and it's time to eat.

Base recipe for go-to pasta (will make enough for at least two dinners, which is helpful if you have little time to cook):

• 1 lb dried pasta of any variety (butterflies and rotini are my usual picks) (cooked according to package directions--once again, when I make my own pasta, you will know about it)
• Any combination of vegetables that are in season and hold their shape pretty well (in summer, tomatoes and bell peppers are good; fall, I could go with cauliflower cut into bite-size pieces; spring, asparagus and peas are awesome)
• 4-5 slices of bacon (or more, if you like), sliced thinly (make sure to render it for the fat to the vegetables in)
• 2 cloves of garlic, crushed
• 1 cup half and half
• 1 cup grated Parmegiano Reggiano
• thyme, white pepper

Instructions (sans dancing)

• cook the pasta
• render the bacon and then let it get crispy
• add vegetables (start with firmer vegetables that take longer to cook) (keep stirring them)
• add the half and half and the cheese, season with thyme and white pepper (I don't usually add any salt because there is so much in the cheese and the bacon) and let it thicken
• strain the pasta
• add the pasta to the sauce and stir it on the heat
• You are done! (If you feel like it, you can toss some chopped walnuts, pine nuts, grated cheese, or other things on top, but you really don't need it.)