When my favorite two Michelin star celebrity chef, Michel Roux Jr, was asked what he would choose for his last meal on Planet Earth, he included French Fries ("chips") in the menu.
Yeah. Me too.
But not just any ol' French Fries. Non, non, non mon cher! Properly made French Fries. (Hint: Tearing open a plastic bag doesn't appear anywhere in this recipe!)
Tell me if this sounds familiar. It's Wednesday evening. Hump day. You're tired and pissed at your boss but still determined to make a delicious homemade meal for your family. Let's say, oh, maybe a nice juicy pork roast redolent of rosemary with roasted vegetables.
Then you realize...damn! I forgot to take the roast out of the freezer to thaw before work. So the whole sear-and-stick-garlic-cloves-in-slits thing isn't going to work out so well. If you slam it in the oven still frozen, well! Ever heard a pig cry? And then there's all the vegetable prep to do. Ugh.
So it's frozen pizza for supper...again. Not that the kids will mind.
Gravy has always been Michael's speciality. His kids loved coming over for visitation because Dad made gravy. I've had his gravy. It's so good I'd have pretended to be a 4th Thompson Child just to sneak into visitation to have his gravy!
But it's so much more fun to give culinary things a fancy French name and gravy falls in the French Mother Sauces category of Béchamel pronounced "besh-uh-mell." Basically a béchamel is a dairy-based sauce thickened with flour and flavored with meat juices, drippings, herbs, etc.
"You should write about eggrolls," my step-daughter, Alysse, said, "I'd love to have your recipe."
And sleepless in Minnesota at 5 o'clock on a Sunday morning seems as good a time as any to oblige.
Are these "authentic" Chinese eggrolls? Authentic Vietnamese eggrolls?
Not on your tintype!
But they're a heckuva lot better than any cabbage-filled restaurant eggroll!
Craving! That's what it was. I was craving sushi, California Rolls to be exact. There was only one problem. Well, two problems actually.
Firstly, we didn't have the money. Secondly, the nearest sushi restaurant was an hour away. Up hill. Both ways.
Now logic has never been my strong suit. So it took some time for the obvious to occur to me.
If life hands you wasabi, make the sushi yourself, dumbass!
And so I did.
We don't pick our passions. They pick us. Mine is kitchen hacks.
Maybe it's because I really don't like being 1) on my feet in the kitchen for hours, 2) struggling with manual dexterity and 3) fighting with the damn physical world (which is definitely out to get me). Kitchen hacks help me work smarter, not harder and the food is better for it.
But, as we all know, the cooking's not done 'til the dishes are done. As I'm fond of telling my step-daughters: "Screw diamonds! It's Lysol wipes and dishwands that are a girl's best friends."
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