At the farmer’s market last weekend, I tasted some raw cultured sauerkraut. The sauerkraut is made the traditional way by lacto-fermentation. In case you are wondering, lacto-fermentation happens when friendly bacteria turn the sugars and starches in the vegetable into lactic acid. The resulting product is preserved, develops a sour flavor and contains beneficial bacteria and added vitamins. And get this: most of the sauerkraut you can buy already made isn’t actually cultured—it’s just shredded cabbage that has been pickled in brine. So the stuff I’ve been eating all this time isn’t really sauerkraut. It’s cabbage pickles. The grocery store has been ripping me off for YEARS. I feel violated.

The farmer’s market vendor had several different flavors, which gave us the idea to make our own flavored kraut. I tried googling “sauerkraut flavors” for inspiration and this is what I got:

Needless to say, my HBO on demand doesn’t work right now and I can’t watch all of my new DVRed episodes of Big Love until I watch season 4 episode 6, but that’s not the point I was trying to make. And that point is: obviously, there is a lack of internet content on this particular subject (flavored sauerkraut, not the hopelessness that is Time Warner Cable … although it seems that lots of people want to know about sauerkraut flatulence). So we decided to wing it.

Taking our inspiration from the farmer’s market kraut, we decided to make traditional sauerkraut with caraway seeds, a lemon dill sauerkraut, kimchi and a spicy jalapeño sauerkraut—which Kelly lovingly labeled “Tex Ass.” Sweet isn’t it?

So off to the grocery store we went to collect our ingredients, including eight heads of cabbage. And thanks to our purchase of eight heads of cabbage, we have now been red flagged us as suspected bioterrorists. Well, maybe not, but you never know what you can get in trouble for in this day and age. When we came home, we got to work shredding cabbage and somewhere along the way I realized I had yet another head of cabbage in the refrigerator (who’s counting? that makes nine, y’all). So we threw it into the food processor. Even with the machine doing most of the manual work, it still took a lot of time to shred all that cabbage.

The hardest working food processor in Austin.

And despite Buster’s best efforts to eat up all of the little pieces we dropped on the floor—because in his tiny chihuahua world, anything that falls onto the floor is most likely special and off limits, therefore he should eat it—when we finished shredding, there was cabbage everywhere.

And here’s a picture of the little angel for you to look at while we clean. Isn’t he precious? And chock full of fiber.

We threw the shredded pieces into my giant bowl from the restaurant supply.

Even after adding sea salt and allowing the cabbage to shrink, it wouldn’t all fit in the bowl at once. There was a really good tip on the blog where we found our basic instructions—salt the cabbage until it tastes “pleasantly salty, like french fries.” Not everyone knows how much salt is enough salt for sauerkraut, but everybody knows what a french fry tastes like.

In a smaller bowl, we combined cabbage with flavoring agents and then stuffed each flavored batch into 1 quart canning jars.

The first bowl got the traditional treatment with a tablespoon or two of caraway seeds. We hit the second bowl with some fresh dill, lemon juice and lemon zest. The third bowl got Korean chili powder, green onions, shredded carrots, fresh garlic and ginger. Finally we mixed up our special Tex-Ass sauerkraut with some shredded carrots, green onions, cilantro, hot sauce, cumin, fresh jalapeno, lime juice and a generous pinch of sugar.

We stuffed the jars and topped each one with a small narrow glass filled with water to press the cabbage down. It’s important that the cabbage stay submerged in juice as it’s fermenting. Cabbage that’s exposed to air is subject to spoiling.

Then we faced a problem… where the heck were we going to put all of these jars? Somewhere dark with a relatively cool and steady temperature. I emptied a cabinet in the hallway and we put them inside, draped with cheesecloth so dust wouldn’t get into the kraut.

Day 1

The cabbage is producing a definite odor. In fact, the odor is so definite, I was pretty sure we needed to get it out of the house before Shawn smelled it and put and end to our kitchen experiments. So we moved it to the garage into one of those giant coolers that is supposed to keep stuff cold while you’re camping for 7 days. Problem solved. It hadn’t even been 24 hours and the cabbage had already produced a significant amount of juice, and was even producing bubbles on its own. Sort of cool, sort of creepy.

Day 2

The smell is really strong. Good thing we put the jars outside. I was pleased to find that there wasn’t any mold floating on top of any of my jars of kraut. If you find mold, you’re supposed to remove it. The idea of nonchalantly removing mold from something I plan to eat later is sort of revolting. I checked the water levels of each jar making sure there was a good amount of brine on top. A few hadn’t produced enough to suit me, so I added a little salty water to them. From this point on, don’t add any more salty water. The water is going to evaporate some from the jars, but the salt will stay behind. So if you need to add more liquid, use fresh water only. I removed the glasses that were sitting on top, packed down the cabbage and replaced the glasses (after rinsing them and refilling them with fresh water). Then I put them back in the cooler.

Day 3

Everything is starting to smell more and more putrid pungent. Sorry y’all. I’m working on using more appetizing words in my posts.

So anyway, lots of smells going on in that cooler. Hopefully that means it’s working.

Day 4

Day 4 is a milestone. Once I tried to make sourdough starter. I cared for it lovingly for 3 days—stirring, feeding, talking to it softly. I kept it in a safe spot on top of my toaster oven. On day four, I decided to bake potatoes in that very toaster oven … at 400 degrees … for an hour. By the time I realized what happened it was too late. My precious little baby starter was dead. Cooked to a crisp. I never attempted another starter or anything else for that matter that requires careful tending and feeding. This is why I don’t grow plants—only dogs and cats—because plants can’t follow you around and go “Hey lady! I’m drying up! How about some water?”

You know if you are at all worried you will forget to check on your little kraut babies, you have got another think coming. Wait until you smell this. Forgetting to check on fermenting cabbage is like forgetting to feed your cat. Your cat will be up your ass chasing you all over the house as you drag yourself out of bed, yowling in your face up to the very moment that you serve his majesty’s breakfast. The sauerkraut is the same way. Every time you walk by, the smell will follow you … it doesn’t let you forget. So today, I added more fresh water to the jars to replace what had evaporated. And again, we wait.

Day 5

I don’t know what’s going on. The jars are practically bubbling over with what I hope is sauerkraut juice. And, maybe I’m just getting used to the smell, but it actually doesn’t smell all that bad to me anymore. Is that bad? Of course, it could smell like skunks and I would never know … because I can’t smell skunks. It’s my super power. Bear with me people! One more day and we will know how this story ends. And considering I have about 14 quarts of possibly skunky cabbage hanging out in my garage, I hope it ends well.

Then again having to actually eat 14 quarts of sauerkraut could be a disaster in itself. I’m probably not going to have many friends when this is all over.

Day 6

When I came home from work and got out of my car the whole garage reeked of sauerkraut. I opened the lid to the cooler to find that my little kraut babies were bubbling over even more. Our Tex Ass kraut was especially bubbly (that’s right … everything is bigger in Texas) one of them had what appeared to be mold on top. (Don’t worry y’all. The mold turned out to be an ugly green onion.) It kind of made me want to pass out so I demanded that Kelly come over to help me deal with it.

After I let the garage air out it wasn’t so bad. I even worked up the nerve to taste one of the traditional ones. It was awesome. It tasted exactly the way I wanted it to taste. I boiled the lids to the jars (as a precaution … Shawn said I was being overcautious) and I screwed them on, storing them away in the fridge. Shawn wants me to mention that he was more than happy to provide me some space for the kraut in his beer fridge that I bought and that I also supply the electricity to. I would just like to take this moment to say, I am floored by his generosity.

Anyway, I guess that’s about the end of flavored Saurkraut 101. Kelly is on the way over—I left the scummy jars for her to deal with. I’ll post an update later on how each of the flavors taste. We’re cooking some dogs to go with our kraut for dinner tonight.

*Update*

The sauerkraut was great with our hot dogs and beer brats. It was soured just enough and was still very crunchy, which we liked. We cooked some dogs and brats on the grill and then tossed them into a skillet with some Shiner Bock and caramelized onions. Then we served them on toasted buns with lots of kraut.

Later we cooked up some corned beef and made reubens with seedless rye, swiss cheese and kraut. They were pretty awesome.

The kimchi and traditional flavors were almost unanimously the favorites. We stirred some crushed, toasted sesame seeds and a little toasted sesame oil into the kimchi to give it some extra flavor (although, it would have been good without this addition).

The “TexAss” flavor was Shawn’s favorite (he is not a fan of caraway seeds or dill) and it was also the one that soured the least.

I would consider this batch of sauerkraut to be a big success and I would definitely make it again in smaller quantities.

I never really thought much about making posole until recently. Shawn told me he hates hominy, but of course prior to this, he had only ever eaten it out of a can. Canned hominy is a much different animal than dried. It has sort of a squeaky texture that hominy prepared from the dry state doesn’t have. I had a feeling that this “squeakiness” had something to do with his aversion to it.

For Christmas this year, I gave my parents a Rancho Gordo care package with a sampling of several kinds of their dried beans. When I placed the order, on a whim, I decided to get a couple of packages of their dried prepared hominy. I thought I would use it to make green posole, but then Homesick Texan posted this recipe so, I had to make it.

It was absolutely perfect—the pork fell apart into shreds and the broth was rich and delicious. Okay, so it was almost perfect—my hominy didn’t actually flower because I didn’t allow enough time for it to cook, so it was a little au dente and the kernels didn’t open up the way they should have. But this actually didn’t bother me a bit. I sort of enjoyed the chewiness of the underdone hominy. Next time I would add the dry, soaked hominy at the beginning with the other ingredients rather than waiting a couple of hours as the recipe suggests.

Oh, and by the way, Shawn ate a healthy serving of posole. He said it was good and the hominy didn’t really bother him. Success!

If you have been reading for a while, you might remember this post about my friend Kelly. Recently, Kelly, Jeff and their dogs Cash and Bella moved back to Austin. When I heard the news I was so excited, imagining all of the things we could cook together.

After a fun day out at Bella Vista Ranch in Wimberley with Jeff and Kelly, sampling wine and olive oil, we started to think about recipes we wanted to try. Just a few days prior, I had a conversation with Shawn that went approximately like this:

Me: If I cooked a cow tongue would you eat it?

Shawn: No.

Me: Why not? It’s just like stewed meat. You wouldn’t even try it?

Shawn: I’m not eating tongue.

Me: Not even in a taco?

Shawn: I detest organ meat.

Me: *sulking silently*

So you can only imagine my excitement when Kelly and Jeff mentioned that they had seen the recipe for Beef Tacos de Lengua on Simply Recipes and wanted to try it.

* Fast forward to Super Bowl weekend. *

Never did I imagine that I would be standing face to … uh … face with an actual cow tongue, about to plunge it into boiling water, so that I could cut it up and serve it to my guests at a Super Bowl party.

Granted, when you serve tongue at your Super Bowl party, the only people who will actually show up are blood relatives, people who live at your house anyway, and the friends who helped you plan the party (Just kidding y’all. If you’re reading this and you didn’t come, I know your reasons were all valid and I completely understand).

But really, you should have seen the look on this woman’s face when I put this baby in my cart at our friendly neighborhood HEB. When you tell people you are cooking a cow tongue—and they go “eeewwww” and you laugh hysterically at their squeamishness and your ability to gross them out (or maybe that’s just me)—you don’t think about what it will actually be like to cook a cow tongue.

So Kelly and I pressure cooked the tongue following Elise’s instructions, cooking it for 1 hour in the pressure cooker instead of cooking it normally for 3 hours. About 20 minutes into cooking it started to smell pretty amazing.

An hour later, Kelly removed the tongue from the pot and I peeled it. Yes, I just said I peeled the tongue. Sounds gross, I know, but trust me, you have to get the little taste bud looking thingies off it. The skin was Buster’s favorite part. As I was dangling a piece in the air he snapped onto one end and we played tug of war for a minute until I realized the ridiculousness of fighting with the dog over tongue skin. Needless to say I let him have it.

After peeling the tongue, I sliced it. And at that point we put everything away until the next day. The final step was to brown the meat in oil, and that needed to be done at the last minute. When we went to clean the pots and pans and dispose of the, uh, tongue juice, the broth from cooking the tongue smelled so rich and delicious, we couldn’t bring ourselves to throw it away. Jeff suggested we make it into pho (Vietnamese noodle soup). So, into the pot went some star anise, cloves, a little cinnamon, a handful of coriander seeds and some charred ginger which simmered away while we had a cocktail … or two …

The next morning I warmed up the broth and added some fish sauce. Then I ladled it over bowls of cooked rice noodles, sliced sirloin, sliced onion, green onion and cilantro. YUM! I never would have guessed that a boneless piece of meat would make such a delicious broth.

Later that evening we got out the lengua and Kelly browned it in some oil so it looked like this:

Then, we waited anxiously for the guests to arrive. Bella could hardly contain her excitement.

Neither could Cash. Because he knows a thing or two about tongues.

Unfortunately we didn’t get a good shot of the final tacos. We cubed the meat and cooked it with a few cans of Herdez salsa verde. You could use whatever salsa verde you like, or even make your own out of charred onions, garlic, jalapenos and tomatillos. The finished product was served inside of warm corn tortillas with a little chopped onion, cilantro, avocado and sliced radishes.

My mother even ate one, despite my dad trying to gross her out by describing the texture as “boingy.” But she was a really good sport. My mother won’t eat a hot dog, but she ate a tongue taco. And she only did it because her baby made it. Of course, Shawn stuck to his word and didn’t eat any. He smoked a pork shoulder roast instead. It was also delicious.

I don’t know that I would want to make beef tongue very often, but it’s really a very flavorful cut of meat and it’s one that is often overlooked. If you’ve never cooked lengua and you’re not squeamish about the idea of it, I encourage you to try it.

Now, when summer rolls around, yellow squash and zucchini play second fiddle only to the homegrown tomato. Since it came into season this year, I have made it every way imaginable. I’ve made grilled squash, mashed squash, baked squash, two kinds of squash pasta, squash pizza and squash quiche. I’ve even eaten squash in a taco. I have tried every semi-healthy squash recipe I run across, mostly to distract myself from wanting to prepare it this way. And I’m telling you right now, I’m about to give in. Dear lord sweet baby jesus, please save me because I can’t stop thinking about all that cheese.

So in an attempt to further distract myself with another semi-healthy squash preparation, I give you this delicious summer squash gratin, inspired by 101 Cookbooks. The squash comes out light and herby and gets a little bit of crispiness and tanginess from a topping of whole wheat bread crumbs and feta cheese. It was so good, it almost made me forget about that other squash.

Summer Squash Gratin Recipe

1 1/2 lbs of summer squash (yellow squash, or zucchini or both)

1/2 lb of yukon gold potatoes

Herb Mix:

1/4 cup minced fresh parsley

1/4 cup minced fresh oregano

zest of one lemon

1 large clove of garlic, minced

1 teaspoon kosher salt

freshly ground pepper

1/4 cup olive oil

Topping:

2 slices 100% whole wheat bread

1 tablespoon olive oil

salt to taste

1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees

2. Slice the squash into 1/6 inch rounds. Slice the potatoes into 1/8 inch rounds (a mandoline is helpful for these steps). If you can’t cut the potatoes that thin, saute the slices in some olive oil for a minute or two before tossing them with the squash. Since the squash cooks more quickly than the potatoes, the idea is to ensure that the potatoes get thoroughly cooked in the oven.

3. In a large bowl combine the ingredients for the herb mix. Add the squash and potatoes and toss well to ensure that the slices are well coated with oil.

4. Place the bread slices in the bowl of a food processor and pulse to create coarse crumbs. Pour the crumbs into a small bowl and use your fingers to combine them with 1 tablespoon of olive oil and a pinch of salt.

5. Pour the mixture into an 8 x 8 glass casserole dish and top with the crumbled feta cheese and bread crumbs. Bake 50 minutes. The topping should be browned and there should be little to no liquid from the squash visible in the bottom of the pan.

I’ve had this recipe stored away for months, waiting for the moment that I had a few extra homegrown tomatoes to use up. When that day finally came last week, I pulled it out and realized I didn’t have any saffron. I had been meaning to order some from here, but there was no way my tomatoes would last that long. So I skipped it, subbing some tumeric instead, and I didn’t miss it.

The only other change I made to the recipe was that I cut the rice in half, thinking that two cups of rice would be too much for just the two of us. In retrospect, I could have eaten the entire full recipe by myself, but it would have taken weeks for my waistline to forgive me.

Tomato Paella
Adapted from Mark Bittman. This recipe depends on good quality tomatoes, so use the best-tasting tomatoes you can find. I would not try making it with those pink, mealy off-season atrocities from the grocery store.

1 3/4 cups water

1 1/2 pounds good-tasting tomatoes, cored and sliced into thick wedges

kosher salt

fresh ground pepper

1/8 cup extra virgin olive oil

1/2 of a medium onion, diced

1 large clove of garlic, minced

1 tablespoon tomato paste

1 teaspoon sweet smoked spanish paprika

1/2 teaspoon ground tumeric

1 cup short-grain rice, such as arborio

chopped parsley for garnish

1. Preheat oven to 450 degrees.

2. Toss tomato wedges with a pinch of salt and a generous grinding of pepper. Drizzle with olive oil and set aside.

3. Warm 1/8 cup of olive oil in a medium-sized oven-proof skillet. Add the onion and cook until translucent. Add the garlic, paprika, tumeric and 1 teaspoon of kosher salt and cook two minutes more. Add the tomato paste and cook a minute more.

4. Add the rice to the skillet and cook, stirring until shiny and slightly toasted, a minute or two. Add the water and bring to a simmer as you arrange the tomato slices on top of the rice and drizzle the tomato juices over the pan.

5. Put the skillet into the preheated oven and bake 15 minutes. The tomato skins should be wrinkled and the rice should be browned and crispy around the edges. If you like crispy rice on the bottom, put the skillet over high heat for a few minutes to allow a crust to form. Garnish with the parsley and serve.

Falafel is a scary word to the uninitiated. Say it to most people and they will make a face and say, “what is that?” But falafel is delicious. Especially stuffed inside a fresh pita with lots of veggies and tzatziki sauce.

Falafel is made from a mixture of soaked, ground up chickpeas, flour, onion, garlic, seasonings and herbs. While falafel is not an inherently unhealthy food, it can be if made the wrong way. When you buy falafel from a greek restaurant or street vendor, the balls are generally fried, served on white pita, and slathered with tahini sauce and tzatziki.

The first time I made falafel, I fried it. It was great and I was kind of sad that it could only be an occasional treat. Then I read that you could bake it instead of frying and I was intrigued. I decided to try it on the next batch. I found that the difference in flavor was negligible and baking the balls on a cookie sheet was much faster than deep frying them. To further “healthify” the meal, I omitted the tahini sauce, which contains a lot of fat. Instead I used tzatziki made from low fat greek yogurt. I stuffed it all into a white whole wheat pita and filled it with extra tomatoes, lettuce and cucumbers. And the result? It tasted just as good as the first batch and it was easier to boot.

Baked Falafel
This recipe for the falafel balls is adapted from this Epicurious recipe. The only real difference is, the balls are baked and not fried. I also like to double the recipe so I can freeze some for later. Note: You do not cook the chickpeas in this recipe. I know this sounds strange, but just go with it. I promise, it works.

2 cup dried chickpeas

1 large onion, roughly chopped

1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley

1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro

2 teaspoons kosher salt

2 teaspoons crushed red pepper flakes

8 cloves of garlic

2 teaspoon cumin

2 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 cup flour

oil, for greasing the pans

For serving:

sliced cucumbers

chopped tomato

lettuce

Tzaziki sauce (recipe below)

1. Place the chickpeas in a large bowl, covered by two inches of water (the bowl will seem much too large, but the chickpeas will expand a lot). Soak the dried chickpeas overnight (at least 18-24 hours) and then drain and rinse them.

2. Preheat the oven to 375 F.

3. Place the chickpeas, onion, parsley, cilantro, salt, red pepper flakes, cumin, garlic, baking powder and flour in a food processor and process until well blended.

4. Grease two large cookie sheets (my falafel stuck a little bit to my cookie sheet, so you may want to use a silicone baking mat if you have it, or I suppose you could line the pan with parchment). Using a small ice cream scoop, scoop the chickpea mixture and place it on the cookie sheet in rows about an inch apart (alternately you could roll the mixture into balls the size of walnuts, but the scoop really speeds up the process—I highly recommend using it).

5. Taste the mixture and adjust for seasonings.

6. Bake the falafel for about 20 minutes, or until they feel dry and firm. If they stick to the pan, allow them to cool some before trying to remove them.

7. Stuff each pita with 3 or four falafel balls, lettuce, tomato, cucumbers and a generous dollop of tzaziki sauce.

Tzaziki Sauce

16 oz low fat or fat free greek yogurt

1/2 of a seedless cucumber, grated

2 cloves of garlic

3 tablespoons fresh herbs of choice (dill, mint, parsley or cilantro)

juice of 1 lemon

Salt and pepper to taste

1. Combine all the ingredients in a small bowl.

2. Taste and adjust seasonings.

But I do like pancakes. They’re cheap, satisfying and quick. And while I’ve been known to whip them up from a boxed mix, I really prefer the ones made from scratch with buttermilk. Throw in a few blueberries or stir in a little pumpkin puree and I’m in like Flynn. And while you’re at it try replacing the white flour with whole wheat pastry flour. They’ll have more flavor, they’ll keep you full for longer and you won’t even notice a difference in texture. At least not in a bad way.

Whole Wheat Blueberry Pancakes
Based on this recipe from Deb at Smitten Kitchen who adapted it from Martha Stewart’s Original Classics Cookbook. My version uses whole wheat pastry flour and extra blueberries.

2 cups whole wheat pastry flour

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

2 teaspoons baking powder

3 tablespoons sugar

1 teaspoon baking soda

2 large eggs, beaten

3 cups buttermilk

1 pint blueberries, washed

2 tablespoons butter, melted, plus more for the skillet

1. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt and sugar. In a separate bowl mix the buttermilk, eggs and butter.

2. Add the wet ingredients to the dry and mix them just barely. You want to have small lumps. Lumpy batter = fluffy pancakes.

3. Heat a large flat skillet over medium low heat and brush it with a layer of butter. (Or if you’re lazy like me you can just grab the stick of butter and run it all over the hot skillet. It accomplishes the same thing without dirtying another utensil).

4. Ladle about 1/3 cup of batter onto the skillet. Repeat this to make as many pancakes as you can (this is why it’s good to use a LARGE skillet), keeping the pools of batter about an inch apart. Sprinkle each pancake with about 10 blueberries and wait until they start to bubble before flipping them.

5. Flip the pancakes. They should be golden brown. If they are too dark, reduce the heat some. Allow the bottom side to brown slightly and transfer them to a plate. If you are feeding people who are impatient you won’t have to worry about keeping them warm because they will disappear right before your eyes. But if you need to keep them warm you can put them on in a warm oven on a heat proof plate, or cover them with a clean dish towel.

6. Serve immediately with maple syrup or sprinkled with powdered sugar (or both).

STOP! Stop right there! You are one step away from turning a possibly award winning burger into a mediocre one and I just can’t let you do it. Now think of the restaurants where you love to get a burger. How are the buns? They’re probably really good right? They’re probably shiny, golden and toasted with some butter. They’re probably rich with eggs or milk and maybe they’re flecked with sesame seeds. They are anything but bland. Now think about the buns you’ve got in your hand. Why would you put your ingredients that you selected so carefully in between two texture-less, tasteless, chemically-fortified so-called pieces of “bread”? Because it’s easy! Don’t be easy! This may come as a surprise, but you don’t have to use those buns.

Free yourself from the confines of tasteless supermarket buns and try making your own for a change. It’s not that hard, it takes very little active preparation time and the result is well worth it. I recently made some very good buns with this recipe from Annie’s Eats. The process was really simple.

You dissolve some sugar, instant yeast and warm water in the bowl of a stand mixer and then you add milk and oil. You gradually add some flour and knead it to the right consistency. Then you let it rise. You form the risen dough into discs like this:

If you like soft-sided buns (I do) you put them closer together on the pan for the second rise. After the second rise you paint them with an egg wash and sprinkle some poppy seeds or sesame seeds on top if you want. They look something like this:

Then you just pop them into a nice hot oven and when they are done they might look like this:

If they don’t look like this, well, sorry. But try again! And now that you’ve got some nice soft buns, all you have to do is figure out what to put between them (sorry, I couldn’t resist).

Making your own hamburger buns is probably not feasible if you decide you want hamburgers like, right now. I won’t say that I will only use made-from-scratch buns from now on, but I will make them more often when I have the time. And when I have to buy them at the store, I’ll be thinking the whole time about how much better my burger would be with one of these babies.

Budget Recipe Info

You could argue that you won’t save any money by making your own buns at home. You can go to the store and pick up a bag of buns for like 99 cents. If you already have the ingredients on hand it costs very little to make hamburger buns, but it takes time (albeit very little active time). But if your hamburger buns come out really good, you could argue that to buy buns of equal quality you would have to go to a bakery where the buns would be more expensive, or you might have to drive further to get them. So it may or may not save you money, but I do know I have paid $3.99 for some organic hamburger buns before that weren’t even that good. The choice is yours, but I encourage you to try it once.

I was super excited when Lisa of Homesick Texan decided to put up her recipe for carne guisada. Even when I think I have a great recipe for something Tex-Mex, it seems as though the Homesick Texan can always inspire me to take it a step further.

Lisa has a couple of rules when it comes to her carne guisada. The first rule is that no potatoes go into the pot. It is my opinion that potatoes ruin carne guisada. This is very serious and if you choose to ignore this rule, well, there is probably no hope for you or your carne guisada so you should just give up right now. The second rule is that sweet bell peppers are for wussies and old ladies (my words, not Lisa’s). I know, I know, I love them too, but no matter how much you may love delicious sweet bell peppers roasted on a sandwich or in your hummus, please keep them far away from your carne guisada pot. Instead choose spicy green chilies like serranos and jalapeños. I took this a step further and added some roasted poblano peppers because, well, I like poblano peppers in my carne guisada and I think they give it extra depth of flavor. The last rule is that the meat should not look like the contents of a can of Prime Cuts in Gravy—it should be cooked until it’s tender enough to string and fall apart. Enough said. I was able to make this happen very quickly on a Friday evening in my pressure cooker. If you have one I recommend using it.

So I followed Lisa’s rules and when I took that first bite of rich, spicy goodness nestled inside of a warm corn tortilla, my eyes got wide. I had found carne guisada perfection and I knew I would never go back to my old ways. I also knew I had to share this with everyone I know. So here it is: my version of the Homesick Texan’s carne guisada.

Carne Guisada

When I came home with a head of cauliflower last week, and Shawn declared, “I hate cauliflower,” (surprise surprise) I knew I was going to have to puree that sucker. So it became soup. And you know what? He ate it. He said it tasted sort of like potatoes. He loves potatoes. Maybe the idea of heroic cauliflower isn’t so far-fetched.

Creamy Cauliflower Soup