Happy Halloween!

 

Happy Halloween everyone!  We are in St. John this year, so no Halloween party.  But, that doesn’t mean we still can’t dress up.  We’ll see if Halloween in the islands is any fun. 

Update:
Halloween is great on St. John!  Had a great time with good friends, new and old.  Can’t wait for next year back in Chicago, but St. John held it’s own with Halloween spirit! (I am Amy Winehouse and Scot is Chef D’ellamorte – a psycho clown chef, of course.)

Macaroni Supper Casserole

Okay, besides the fact that this looks like something from the Lorena Bobbitt Cookbook, it doesn’t sound that bad. I like macaroni. I like hot dogs. I like cheese. I like onions. I like cauliflower.

But… then I read the recipe, and the first ingredient is:
One Can of Macaroni and Cheese.
Hmmmm…. WTF is a can of Macaroni and Cheese?

Another fine example of Midwest Cooking thanks to my friends at McCalls.

Best Sausage Stuffed Mushroom Recipe

It’s been forever since I posted a real recipe here. I got too involved in all my frightening vintage recipes. To make up for it, I am posting one of my favorite new recipes for stuffed mushrooms. These are so easy and really, really good. I had them for a party this summer and everyone raved, even though I burned them a little. So, just imagine how good they’ll be if you don’t burn them!

SAUSAGE STUFFED MUSHROOMS

12 fresh large mushrooms
1/2 pound sage pork sausage
1 tablespoon minced onion
1 clove garlic, minced
1 tablespoon butter
1/4 cup bread crumbs
salt and pepper to taste
1/4 cup heavy cream
1/4 cup butter, melted
1 teaspoon chili powder
parmesan cheese

Preheat oven to 425 degrees F. Remove and chop mushroom stems.

In a saucepan over medium heat, combine sausage, onion, and garlic. Cook until sausage is no longer pink; drain. Mix in chopped mushroom stems, 1 tablespoon butter, bread crumbs, salt, and pepper. Cook, stirring frequently, for 5 minutes. Remove from heat, and stir in cream.

Dip mushroom caps in 1/4 cup melted butter, and stuff generously with sausage mixture. Arrange stuffed mushrooms in a baking dish. Sprinkle with chili powder and Parmesan cheese.

Bake for 20 to 25 minutes in the preheated oven. Don’t burn them.

Enjoy.

Ham & Banana Hollandaise!

“Good Morning! Here is your breakfast!”
“What the Hell is it?”
“Why, it’s Ham and Banana Hollandaise of course!”
“Ham? Bananas? Hollandaise? Have you lost your fucking mind?”
“What do you mean?”
“Everyone knows you have Ham and Banana Hollandaise for lunch!”

I am an Idiot (and a Douchebag)

So a few weekends ago my husband and I met up with some friends at a local watering hole after celebrating my birthday at a sushi place. We had a few cocktails and decided to call it a night as we were leaving early the next morning to spend a few days downtown. The next morning I realize that I can’t find my purse.

Now, I have always had a purse problem. I didn’t carry a purse for a long time, and now that I do, I just can’t seem to get used to having it. I’m always leaving it behind, or forgetting it in the car. Once, I left my wallet on top of the car as I drove away from an early morning stop at McDonalds. Another time, my wallet somehow slipped out of my purse on the floor of an airplane (probably on takeoff) and by the time I figured it out, it was long gone. I have lost my wallet and purse more times than I can count. At one point it started to affect my credit rating as I kept having to have new cards issued. (They don’t look favorably on having your cards cancelled four times in a year, FYI)

I call my phone and walk around the house listening for it. It’s ringing, but I don’t hear it. I check all the rooms in the house – I check the car. I check the bathroom. Nothing. Now I start to panic. Not only did I have every credit card I own in my purse, I also had my drivers license, insurance cards, AAA card, a $300 gift card for J Crew and my brand new fucking iPhone. I keep calling the phone, and it’s ringing, but nobody is picking up.

I remembered having it when we left the bar – or at least I thought I did. Oh! Wait! I went into the bathroom on the way out. Could I have left it in the bathroom at the bar? Could I be that stupid? Unfortunately, yes, I can. There was a big local high school celebration going on in the restaurant part of the place at the same time we were there – did the high school students steal my purse? Maybe the bar has it. We call – they can’t find it, but the manager isn’t in yet, and perhaps it was locked in his office. Later, we go to the bar and find out it is not there. So, I must have left it in the bathroom after all. Those fucking high-schoolers!

I keep calling my phone and leaving messages in hopes that whoever has the phone will give it back. My friends are also calling and seeing if they get anybody. I leave a couple of nice messages, then they slowly get more desperate and more rude. I call back into my voicemail and someone has been listening to the messages! I beg – I plead – I threaten – I offer a reward – I offer to kick their ass. I tell them karma is a bitch and they’ll get theirs. No response.

So, instead of going downtown, I spend the entire day canceling my credit cards and suspend my phone. My husband is not pleased, as two of them are joint cards and now he has no working cards, either. I have no hope for our future with bratty young chicks who steal purses from forgetful older chicks like me. I bitch to everyone I know about how these brats have ruined my faith in society.

Later that day, my husband goes out to the vegetable garden to get something. He comes back in laughing the hardest I have ever seen him laugh ever. “You’re in BIG trouble!” He says. What??? He holds up my purse. It was in the garden. I forgot we went out there and covered the tomato plants after we got home because there was a frost alert. I must have put the purse down and forgotten about it.

Oops. I was mortified. What a fucking idiot. One of my friends called me a douchebag after I told her I found the purse. She’s right. I couldn’t even bring myself to listen to the 32 messages on my voice mail – mostly from me to the squirrels in the garden. I just erased them all. Sorry to all you gals from Barrington High School. I do have hope for the future after all – just not for my lame brain.

The Beauty of the Chicago Dog

There really is no comparison to the famous Chicago hot dog. Because they are so ubiquitous here, I don’t give them much thought since I can pick one up at any time. It’s just one of those things that you don’t miss until you can’t get it. But then – you get that craving and you must have it and you must have it now!

The Chicago dog is very specific – there is not a lot of leeway when having the Chicago dog. First and foremost, the dog must be a Vienna Beef dog. No other brand is allowed. Kosher Best? – no. David Berg? – no. Nathan’s? Fuggedaboudit. Vienna Beef and Vienna Beef only. Second, the dog must be nestled in a fresh, steamed poppy seed bun. Stale buns are a big no no.

Here are the rest of the ingredients, in order. No substitutions!
1. Yellow mustard
2. Bright green relish
3. Fresh chopped onion
4. Two tomato wedges
5. Kosher pickle spear
6. Two sport peppers
7. A dash of celery salt

…and for God’s sake – no fucking ketchup! What the hell – are you five years old?

There are hundreds, no, probably thousands of hot dog shacks in the Chicagoland area, so naming the best dog would be silly. As long as the above rules and regulations are abided by, they are good in my book. Some famous ones: Fluky’s, Frankly Yours, Demon Dogs, Franks for the Memories, Gold Coast Dogs, Little Louie’s (home of the first Chicago dog I ever had in Northbrook, IL), Weiner’s Circle. They are all awesome.

The only sour note? I know I am probably commiting sacrilege by saying this, but I have a problem with world famous Superdawg on the northwest side. I know they have been run by the same people since 1948, and it is a fact that they are a Chicago institutuion. But, they don’t use Vienna Beef dogs, and they put a piccalilli of green tomatoes instead of two slices of red tomato and no celery salt. Therefore I cannot put them in the same category with a traditional Chicago dog. Sorry Maurie & Flaury. It’s just not right.

If you’ve never had a chicago dog, or if you moved away and miss your dogs – Portillo’s will come to the rescue and ship them to you for a mere $50. 

I think I know what I have to do for lunch today…

DH + DDIL + DD = FU

Seriously – I am so sick of the Dear Husband, Dear Daughter, Dear Whatever The Fuck.

And now back to your regularly scheduled programming.

Vintage Cookbook Centerfold of the Week

Courtesy of 500 Tasty Snacks for Entertaining, circa 1952

Chicken Livers ‘n Eggs!

This must be “fancy” since it’s supposed to be for “Sundays at Home” – mmmmm Chicken Livers ‘n Eggs! I don’t know why, but I don’t like mixing different chicken parts together with eggs. It just seems disconcerting to me for some reason. Kind of like there is a reason you never really see a chicken omelette on the menu.

I Hate the Stupid Football Chain

Seriously, WTF is up with the completely antiquated chain measuring system in football? It’s 2007 people – not 1937. Can’t we come up with a better technology than guessing where to start the chain and then seeing if the first down was made or not? How about a GPS in the ball? That doesn’t sound so hard in this day and age, does it? I fucking HATE the chain! It’s just so ridiculous.

Here’s a little history lesson on the Chain, courtesy of that wonderful tome of semi-correct knowledge, Wikipedia:

In American football, the chain crew (commonly known as the “chain gang”) are assistants to the referee who handle the first down measuring chain and the down indicator box. The members of the chain crew who operate the measuring chain are called rod men and the person who works the down indicator box is called the box man.

The down indicator box is a pole with a sign indicating what the current down is. Before every play from scrimmage, it is placed on the sideline to mark the current line of scrimmage.

The first down measuring chain is used to measure the yards that the offensive team needs to gain a first down. It is a 10-yard metal chain with poles attached to each end. The poles, usually called “the sticks”, are almost always covered in bright orange padding.

When a team gains a first down, one of the rod men places one end of the chain on the sideline parallel to the spot of the ball. The other rod man then stretches the chain out to mark the first down line. To ensure an accurate measurement, a clip is usually attached to the chain on the closest 5-yard mark on the field.

The chains will be brought directly onto the field whenever the referee needs an accurate measurement to determine if a first down has been made. A team may also request an accurate measurement to determine how far they have to reach for the first down.

I love how the word “accurate” is in here mutliple times. It’s not accurate! It’s a damn GUESS. The Chain Crew must have a powerful union or something and refuse to be replaced with GPS devices. Kind of like the robots and car assembly lines.

GET RID OF THE @!#!$%#!! CHAIN ALREADY!