Getting Fresh—Without Getting Slapped!

When it comes to produce, there’s nothing like getting fresh, and it doesn’t get any fresher than your own garden. The benefits of a home garden are obvious. You plant exactly what you want. You choose what does or doesn’t get applied to it. You can pick treats and eat them the very same day.

If you're really swimming in produce, you can use veggies to write your next book!

The hidden downside of a home garden—and I know this is a great problem to haveis when you have a bumper year and get way, way more veggies than you know what to do with. Of course giving some away is always a good option, but at some point, all but the most veggieracious friends will tire of seeing you sneak onto their porch with yet another bag of zucchini or beets. So, unless you can it (I don’t) or freeze it (I sometimes do), you’ve got to figure out quickly how to serve the bushels of produce filling your house. Some, like tomatoes, are easy. Other, like squash, have more limited options, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t new tricks to learn.

There’s nothing original about grilling squash, but for whatever reason, I never got around to trying it until this summer. When the family was in town, my brother cooked up a killer batch of grilled squash that still had us hungering for it weeks later. I’ve followed suit a couple times since, and it has been marvelous—even if I cut mine too thin.

This weekend's squash crop—finally on the decline.

You can cook yours wrapped in foil, straight on the grill, or on a grill tray. However you do it, it’s an excellent way to use the bounty from your garden (or grocery store). So, here’s the recipe, modified slightly from what my wise brother cooked up, but note that I’m presenting this more as general guidelines than an exact formula, since it’s pretty forgiving as long as you don’t burn it.

Grilled Squash

Yellow squash (or zucchini)

A few garlic cloves

Olive oil

Crushed or fresh chopped rosemary

Salt and pepper

Slice squash into ¼- to ½-inch-thick pieces. (If you want to cook directly on the grill, cut lengthwise into large pieces. With foil, smaller rounds are fine.) Mince a few garlic cloves.

For each squash, add a couple tablespoons of olive oil to a small bowl. Brush oil onto both sides of squash, and sprinkle with rosemary and salt and pepper. (I suggest starting light on the salt and pepper, since you can always add more later.) Squash should be put on foil sheet on grill and cooked on medium heat for 5-10 minutes per side, turning at least once.

Yum!

That’s it! Easy peasy! Like I said, you can make pouches, put these straight on the grill (if you omit the garlic), change the seasonings, or switch out the olive oil for butter—whatever strikes your fancy.

Jonathan Schkade is the author of six books for children, including Icky Sticky, Hairy Scary Bible Stories. He's also a network co-representative for the Southern Illinois region of SCBWI. For more fresh facts about Jonathan, slice and dice your way to his site: www.jonathanschkade.com.

Stealing Recipes

Today I’m going to break a personal rule. When this blog first started, I decided that for my main recipe I would never post a link to someone else’s recipe instead of coming up with one of my own or at least an old family favorite. Today, though, I’m giving in—and I’m trying to do so in style while still connecting it to writing.

But first an explanation for my sloth (and no, I don’t have an arboreal pet):

Just over a week old, our newest wee little gal sucks up free time better than an anteater sucks up ants. Fortunately, she’s much cuter than any anteaters I’ve seen.

Now, back to today’s post and some breaking of rules. I never liked the thought of slapping up a link to a recipe on another site because it seemed so impersonal and lazy. I’m a creative person; shouldn’t I be able to come up with my own recipe every time? Piece of cake, right? Yeah, not so much. And, you know what, while I love posting fresh recipes and experimenting, I think I’m okay with my new standard—at least this once. 

After all, I usually start learning how to cook something by studying a half dozen other recipes for the same dish. Then I adapt, combine, tweak, and make it into something that will make me happy. But did I come up with it all on my own? No way!

THIS IS NOT A SUGGESTION TO PLAGIARIZE, buuuuut . . . most writers practice heavy thievery in even their most original works. The whole standing on the shoulders of giants idea is true. We steal the basis for our writing from those we admire and avoid the flaws of writing we scorn. We see how one author brilliantly strings together flowery sentences, how another writes punchy action scenes, and how another creates characters who reach up off of the page to throttle the reader. We see all that and say, “How I can I steal that? How can I put that little piece of magic into my grimoire of writing spells?”

And if we’re really lucky, we make a successful steal. We copy the skill without copying the content. We acquire the ability without anyone giving us any less credit for the achievement. This is only right because copying something that a master did well is never as easy as it looks. I can only hope someday to become such a sly thief of words that no one ever realizes just how many treasure houses I have raided along the way for supplies.

ON TO THE RECIPES! These links go to some baked goods recipes I have used multiple times to get great results in the kitchen. Take them, use them, then make them your own—I certainly have. Full credit goes to their originators, whose contributions to my tummy are much appreciated. Of special note, I give a gold star to the biscuit recipe, since it took a long time to find one I loved and could replicate easily.

Devil’s Food Cupcakes with Vanilla Cream Filling

Simple Scones Recipe

The Best Coffee Cake Ever

Vermont Doughnut Holes

The Biscuit Recipe That Can’t Be Beat

Jonathan Schkade is the author of six books for children, including Icky Sticky, Hairy Scary Bible Stories. He's also a network co-representative for the Southern Illinois region of SCBWI. To learn more about Jonathan, you can steal away to his site: www.jonathanschkade.com.

Risotto x 2

I’m running behind this week. Sadly, this means anyone desperate for the next great “cooking is like writing” metaphor are out of luck. However, those of you who like yummy food that impresses people will get a double dose of risotto recipes.

I never had risotto until a few years ago, and frankly, I had no idea what I was missing. It’s a versatile food that can complement almost any flavors you wish, and, though it’s usually a side, it can even stand alone as a main dish.

Many people will swear up and down that their way is the only right way to make it. I have no such belief but hope you enjoy one of these risottos tailored to enhance your next Mexican or Italian dinner.

Mexican-Style Risotto

5–6 c. chicken broth

¾ c. white wine

5 T. olive oil

1½ c. diced onions

¾ T. basil

1 T. cumin

1 tsp. black pepper

1 tsp. paprika

1 tsp. onion salt

1½ Arborio rice

½ lb. ground sausage

1 c. chopped spinach (I used frozen)

15-oz. can chickpeas (aka garbanzo beans)

1 c. shredded provel cheese (or melty cheese of your choice)

Warm chicken broth in one pot and wine in another. Keep warm and covered. In a medium pot or Dutch oven, heat olive oil. Add onions and cook on medium heat. After 2 or 3 minutes, add leaf basil (fresh is best), cumin, black pepper, paprika, and onion salt, and continue cooking until onion is translucent. Stir in rice until glistening (add extra oil if needed), and cook 3 minutes, stirring often.

Meanwhile cook sausage on medium high heat in a skillet; when sausage is halfway done, mix in the spinach. Continue cooking until sausage is lightly browned. Then remove from heat.

So many pots, so little time!

Immediately after starting sausage, add warm wine to rice pot, keep stirring, and cook until liquid is nearly gone. Cooking on medium high, ladle in just enough chicken broth to cover the rice and cook until liquid is absorbed. Repeat this process.

After most of the broth (4 cups or so) has been absorbed, stir in the sausage mix, onion salt, and chickpeas and add in more broth. Before adding the last cup, check the firmness of the rice. Continue adding broth and letting it be absorbed until rice is chewy and tasty. Don’t overcook—if you don’t use all the broth, that’s just fine.

Stir in provel (and a little extra broth if you want it creamier). Taste, and if you wish, add more cumin, onion salt, or black pepper. Serve.

Italian Tomato and Bell Pepper Risotto

2 T. cream cheese

1 T. sour cream

5–6 c. chicken broth

¾ c. white wine

3 T. butter

1 c. finely chopped shallots

1 c. diced onions

4 cloves finely chopped garlic

1 T. oregano

1 tsp. coriander

1½ c. Arborio rice

1 T. butter (or olive oil)

1 c. bell peppers (1 ½ peppers)

1½ c. diced Roma tomatoes

1/3 c. brown sugar

1 T. sea salt

½ c. parmesan

sprinkling of paprika

Stir together cream cheese and sour cream, and put in fridge. Warm chicken broth in one pot and wine in another. Keep warm and covered. In a medium pot or Dutch oven, heat butter. Add shallots and onions and cook on medium heat. After 2 or 3 minutes, add garlic, oregano (fresh is best), and coriander and continue cooking until onion is translucent. Stir in rice until glistening (add extra butter if needed), and cook 3 minutes, stirring often.

Meanwhile heat a Tbsp. of butter or olive oil on medium high heat in a large skillet or sauté pan. Add in bell peppers. After 2 or 3 minutes, add in tomatoes and cook until peppers are just starting to soften (but are still firm). Stir in brown sugar and remove from heat.

Immediately after starting pepper-tomato pan, add warm wine to rice pot, keep stirring, and cook until liquid is nearly gone. Mix in the sea salt. Cooking on medium high, ladle in just enough chicken broth to cover the rice and cook until liquid is absorbed. Repeat this process until all but last cup or so has been added. Check the firmness of the rice. Continue adding broth and letting it be absorbed until rice is chewy and tasty. Don’t overcook—if you don’t use all the broth, that’s just fine.

Stir in pepper-tomato mix, cream cheese mix, and parmesan. Taste, and if you wish, add salt or more parmesan. Sprinkle with paprika. Serve.

Pre-paprika picture, but the one at the top of the post has the red stuff sprinkled

Jonathan Schkade is the author of six books for children, including Icky Sticky, Hairy Scary Bible Stories. He's also a  network co-representative for the Southern Illinois region of SCBWI. To learn more about Jonathan, you can read omens in scattered grains of rice or visit his site: www.jonathanschkade.com.

Cleaning Up the Mess

Those of you who come here regularly know that Pots ’n Pens is all about the writing and the cooking. Today I’m going to take a little tangent from that to highlight one of the support players in both tasks: cleaning up the mess.

Dishes already accumulating two days after Mom left.

For the last week, we were fortunate to have a helper in our house keeping the dishes washed and the kitchen in order—thanks, Mom! But for most of us, most of the time, staying ahead of the mess in the kitchen, in the office, and in the manuscript is half the work. It’s also a task that’s easy to put off, much to our shame. Still, as any top cook will tell you, maintaining a clean workstation is essential to preparing top quality food. You want your kitchen to be sanitary and every dish to be washed right away so it’s available the next time you need it. Otherwise you’ll end up with one of those monster stacks of dirty dishes that threaten to swallow you whole.

My desk area at the moment. Yes, those are rodents!

The same thing can happen in an office space. It’s easy to add one more thing to the pile and then to start another pile, to shove a few papers to the side with the intent of dealing with it later. But we all know that “later” never comes. And soon it’s a struggle just to find the space for your laptop. Even at the end of one project, we jump in so excitedly to the next that cleanup never happens.

While it’s not my main focus here, manuscript messes can start out in similar ways. They can be the result of a finished project that leaves drippings all over your next work in progress: an old character’s voice you love so much that it infects your new characters or a manuscript that you never finished editing because it seemed too difficult/messy. Manuscript messes can be as simple as a logic problem on page 3 that you choose to ignore until page 200 even though you knew it was there. But by that point, so much of the plot has wrapped itself around the problem that fixing it requires rubber gloves and industrial strength cleaner.

Whatever your mess, here’s my suggestion: CLEAN IT UP! . . .  DO IT NOW! It’s not going to get easier later. As evidenced by the pictures above, I’m a master at making messes, so trust me on this. Your cooking, your writing, and your family will be a lot happier if you do.

And just to prove that I’m not a hardhearted wretch, I’m sharing a recipe for Valentine’s Day. It’s an old classic I loved in my childhood that’s also available in variations all over the internet. But in case some of you don’t already know about these sweet, simple treasures, I present some tartly treats.

Miniature Cheesecakes

1 box vanilla wafers

16 oz. cream cheese (I usually use reduced fat and they’re still delicious.)

¾ c. sugar

2 eggs

1 tsp. vanilla extract (or almond)

1 large can cherry pie filling (or blueberries or chocolate chips, etc.)

18 cupcake liners

Preheat over to 375°. After softening the cream cheese (by leaving it out fully wrapped or microwaving for a few seconds), add sugar and beat together. Mix in eggs and vanilla until blended.

Place liners in muffin pan cups. Put one vanilla wafer in the bottom of each liner. Fill each cup one third to one half full of cream cheese mixture. (Fill all a third of the way, and then spoon in whatever is left.) Bake for approximately 12 minutes until set and slightly golden, being careful not to overcook them.

After the cheesecakes cool, spoon cherry pie filling (or topping of your choice) on each cake. (You may wish to have more than one can of cherries ready if you want yours to be extra fruity.) Serve or refrigerate until ready.

Jonathan Schkade is the author of six books for children, including Icky Sticky, Hairy Scary Bible Stories. He's also a  network co-representative for the Southern Ilinois region of SCBWI. To learn more about Jonathan, you can study his dirty dishes or visit his site: www.jonathanschkade.com.

Devilish Details . . . and Eggs

The devil is in the details—or so the saying goes. Likely, most writers who’ve spent much time editing would agree. After spending months or even years crafting a plot, characters, and all the bigger picture issues, it’s the little things that make the difference.

Do the words just and very pop up everywhere? Are adverbs sprinkled too liberally or emotions too sparsely? Is your main character even facing the right direction to be blinded by the sun in the big fight scene? Worst of all, is there an easy solution on page 12 that most readers would notice though none of the characters think about it until page 200?

Even something as simple as names can make a book unravel. If the names don’t sound authentic to the culture or time period, if they’re all hopelessly unpronounceable, a story can lose its bite. Never mind the mental chaos that ensues from names that are too similar. Just try setting loose a Jeremy, a Jerry, and a Jimmy in the same book, and see how many people still follow who’s doing what. The devil is in the details, and, unfortunately, there are thousands of details that require attention before releasing a book into the world.

The details cannot be ignored, but neither can they be elevated above what matters most: the story. In the end, there’s always going to be untouched rough spots and perfect words that were never found. That’s okay. At a certain point, you’ve just got to cross your fingers and hope that the devils still hiding in your manuscript are simultaneously tiny yet obvious enough for your critique partners, agent, and editor to squash them like the pests they are.

To get you going, here’s a recipe without too many details. Even better, the details that remain can be easily changed to fit your mood and the tastes of your guests.

Deviled Eggs

1 dozen large eggs

¼ c. fresh onion, minced

1 tsp. olive oil

½ c. mayo (I used Hellmann’s light mayo.)

2½ tsp. Dijon mustard

½ tsp. Tabasco

¼ tsp. pepper

½ tsp. onion salt

a pinch of cumin

chili powder (for sprinkling)

Hardboil one dozen large eggs. (Click here for one set of boiling directions--there are many variants.) While eggs are boiling, sauté minced onion in olive oil over medium heat until onion is translucent.

After eggs have cooled, carefully slice them in half lengthwise. Place whites on serving tray and put yolks in a medium bowl. Mash yolks with a fork. Mix in onions, mayo, mustard, and Tabasco. Add pepper, onion salt, and cumin. Stir well. Taste yolk mixture, and adjust according to your preferences.

Spoon all yolk mixture into halved egg whites. Sprinkle eggs with chili powder and serve when desired.

Adventures with Okra

You heard me right. Okra! It’s one of nature’s most mystifying vegetables, and boy oh boy, do reactions to it vary. When it comes to okra, there are three basic schools of thought:

           (1) I love it!

           (2) Gross! It’s so slimy!

           (3) What’s okra?

Since I’m featuring it today, I obviously fall into the first group. The problem, however, is that even okra fans have a hard time figuring out what to do with it. Okra doesn’t look, feel, or taste like any other vegetable, so it’s not an easy substitute for other ingredients. Furthermore, the odds are that unless you grew up in the South in a family of okraphiles, the fried version is your only exposure to this podded wonder.

While it may not be the most versatile food ever, okra gets a bad rap. Okra is high in fiber, low in calories, and chockfull of vitamins and nutrients. It’s inexpensive, easy to grow, and, at least for me, extremely productive. I live near St. Louis, and every year, the okra plants in my little garden are superstars. (This year’s six okra plants are producing 15-20 pods I can pick at least twice a week from mid-summer through the fall.) That makes it cost-efficient, which is a big win for us.

As a result of this productivity, I’ve had to get creative. Soups and gumbos, fried okra, and okra piccadilly (add some cabbage, tomato, onion, and peppers) have filled our fridge. I’ve cooked it with rice and potatoes and whatever other veggies are fresh from the garden (squash and tomatoes usually work). It even freezes well. I haven’t had the nerve to try okra bread yet, but I’m thinking of mixing it into hushpuppies or cornbread soon. The lesson—as I’m sure the Okra Growers of America would endorse—is that trying something different can be worth the adventure.

I suppose that’s my point about writing too. Try something different every now and then. Mix in a character type you would never normally consider. Attempt a genre or viewpoint you’ve never embraced. Heck, throw a truckload of okra into a scene and see what happens. You might just have your most interesting story yet. If nothing else, you’ll at least have a lot of okra. And if that happens, here’s one way to cook it.

Jonathan’s Fried Okra

 32 oz. (4 c.) okra, cut into ½-inch rounds

1½ c. cornmeal

2 c. flour

1½ tsp. pepper

1¼  T. salt

1 T. cumin

3½ T. sugar

1½ c. milk (or buttermilk)

oil—I prefer peanut, but vegetable and canola also work well

Pour ¾ inches of oil into a skillet. Heat on medium to about 350° F. Meanwhile, mix dry ingredients in medium or large container. (I use a 9x9 Pyrex pan). Pour milk into a smaller bowl.

(A comment at this point: depending on the size of your skillet, you’ll likely want to divide the okra up into batches [I made four]. Coat each batch while the previous one is cooking.) Place okra in milk, then remove okra with fingers or slotted spoon—after allowing milk to drip back into bowl—and place in cornmeal mixture. Fully coat until no longer wet. Shake crumbs off. Then place back in milk briefly, before once again coating it in the cornmeal mixture until you feel no dampness.

Shake loose particles off; then spoon the okra into the hot oil. Cook for 4 to 6 minutes, until coating is a light golden brown. Do not overcook or okra will get too hard.

Remove with slotted spoon to a plate covered with paper towels. Serve hot, and have an okrariffic day!

Note 1: For a lighter but equally tasty coating, dip in okra and milk only once. Cut all dry ingredient measurements in half.

Note 2: I tweak this all the time, so don’t be afraid to change up the oil, the seasonings, and the flour/cornmeal balance. Find what works for your tastebuds.

Note 3: This also works well for squash and pickles (but dip them only once).

Chili Cures Congestion!

First, thanks to all the Pots & Penheads who’ve stuck with us this last year. We’re sorry about the brief hiatus, but we’re back now, and we’re really excited about all the new recipes, interviews, and writing insights to come!

All that, of course, leads us to the topic of congestion. We all get congested, literally or symbolically. Whether it’s traffic, emotional stress, or too many tasks going on at once, it’s easy to get bogged down.

Lately, I’ve had an overabundance of writing and editing projects trudging inside my head and on my computer. While there are certainly worse problems, this has led to a slowdown of output and an uptick in frustration. Ironically, too many creative ideas at once can stifle creative expression.

To clear out the congestion, I’ve been working at prioritizing, evaluating, and scheduling, with reality in mind, to get myself back on track. Some things can wait. Others can’t. Some get me closer to big-picture goals, and some are just fun sidetracks—certainly enjoyable, but perhaps at a later time.

And speaking of congestion, I’m recovering from an all-night work session and a nasty cold, so I thought a dish with a little pep would be the perfect choice to get the week back on track. Presenting good-old-fashioned, ordinary, wonderful chili. (Okay, yes, there is whiskey involved.)

Chili

10 c. water

4 beef bouillon cubes (or replace 4 c. water with beef broth)

1/3 c. whiskey (optional)

4 c. onion

4 cloves garlic

1/4 c. garlic chives (optional)

6 c. tomato

1 tsp. crushed rosemary

1/2 tsp. thyme

1/8 tsp. cayenne

1½ lb. ground beef

1/2 T. black pepper

1 T. sea salt

1 T. chili powder

1 T. cumin

4 c. red beans or pintos

2 c. kidney beans

1 T. brown sugar

Get out your large soup pot and fill with 10 cups water. Heat on medium high until hot. Add bouillon and whiskey (if desired).

Dice onions, mince garlic, and chop garlic chives (optional). Add to pot. Cut tomatoes into large chunks, and add to pot, along with rosemary, thyme, and cayenne. Mix pepper, salt, chili powder, and cumin in small dish.

Cook ground beef in a separate pan, seasoning as it cooks with 1½ tablespoons of spice mix. When beef is nearly browned, add it to chili pot. Drain kidney beans and add to pot, along with chili beans (red beans) or pintos. Mix in brown sugar.

Stirring occasionally, cook covered on medium heat for at least 30 minutes. If you have time, for fuller flavor, cook on medium low heat for an hour or more. Serve straight or with a sprinkling of cheddar cheese on top.

A Fantastic Fourth!

Happy Fourth of July from all of us at Pots & Pens! May your pots be filled with sweet liberty, and may your pens flow with freedom's refrains.

Also, I give special thanks to my little chalk artist assistant and model. :)

Suffering and Lasagna

Lately, I’ve been working on amping up tension in scenes that are perfectly pleasant but not all that exciting. In the process, I’ve come to a conclusion: liking your characters too much can be dangerous. When you become enraptured with your characters, you never want anything bad to happen to them. You never experiment with their motivations, let them make big mistakes, or throw suffering at them as often as necessary—which, of course, is nearly constantly. 

I realized I was playing it safe, and I promised not to take it easy anymore. As a result, even in happy, restful scenes, I now find myself looking for the splinter or the stubbed toe, the tiny suffering that will linger and develop into a true obstacle—a deadly infection or debilitating limp—in the next chapter. Always ask if a character is suffering enough. If not, the reader might not have enough to root for and enough reason to worry.

Is your character lonely? Perhaps, she needs to be lonely and afraid. But is a general fear enough? No way! Add in a specific fear, a terrifying sight or sound. But is even that enough? Perhaps not. While this could end up in a ridiculous place, piling on a bit more suffering is almost always a good choice. You can’t like your characters so much that you sacrifice tension in the process.

Likewise, being in love with your own recipes can limit their development. When you enjoy the product too much, you might become afraid of experimenting, of switching out one ingredient or one technique for another. For many people, lasagna is one of those unchanging recipes, because, let’s face it, lasagna is almost always good.

After poking around a few places, though, and tweaking some ingredients, I stumbled into a lasagna recipe that tops all those I’d made before. I just hope that when the time comes I won’t be too afraid to change it up one more time, even if I have to suffer some along the way. 

Sweet and Savory Lasagna

Meat Sauce
1 lb. ground beef or sausage
1 1/2 c. finely chopped onion
2 tsp. garlic salt
cloves garlic, minced
1 8-oz. can tomato sauce
1 6-oz. can tomato paste
1 large tomato, diced
1/2 c. red wine
1 T. Italian seasoning
1 T. chili powder
1 T. brown sugar

1 package lasagna noodles

Ricotta Mixture
2 eggs
1 c. grated parmesan cheese
15 oz. ricotta cheese
5–10 oz. chopped spinach
2 1/2 T. butter
2 T. flour
1 c. milk
1/4 tsp. black pepper
1/8 tsp. nutmeg
1/2 tsp. basil
1 T. parsley

1 lb. shredded provel cheese (or mozzarella if you must)

Cook beef, onion, and 1 tsp. garlic salt in skillet until mostly browned. Drain. Add the second teaspoon of garlic salt, garlic, tomato sauce, tomato paste, diced tomato, and wine, and simmer for 10 minutes. Add Italian seasoning, chili powder, and brown sugar, and cook uncovered for another 5 minutes, stirring often. Set aside.

Cook lasagna noodles as directed on package, drain, rinse, and set aside.

In large bowl, beat two eggs. Stir in parmesan, ricotta, spinach. Refrigerate.

Melt butter, then add flour. Cook 2 minutes on medium heat, stirring constantly. Whisk in the milk and cook on medium high for about 3 minutes until thick. Stir in pepper, nutmeg, basil, and parsley. Pour into refrigerated cheese mixture and mix well.

Spray large baking dish (13x9x2) or lightly brush with olive oil. Layer 1/3 of noodles, 1/3 ricotta mixture, 1/3 meat, and 1/3 provel. Repeat layering twice more. Bake at 375˚ for 30–35 minutes or until golden brown and heated through.

Putting Things Off and Egg Casserole

We are all bound by time, constrained by details, demands, and necessities to put off those dreams we most yearn to embrace. We make other choices.

Indeed, we may have no choice about how 95 percent of our time is spent. But life happens no matter how we live it, so between the craziness, the exuberance, and the tragedies of life, there are gaps. There are moments. 10 minutes. 30 minutes. An hour. There are moments that we do control, even if we’re not aware of them.

That time making the perfect meal, those minutes crafting a transcendent sentence, these things are not a waste. They’re an investment, an infusion of joy. And when they fill the gaps well enough, they enliven all the other moments in between.

I was going to be funny here, but, instead, in utter (okay, mostly utter) seriousness, here are my top five legitimate reasons for putting off your writing and the top five for putting off real cooking. Note: these only apply to those who are truly passionate about these pursuits, and, of course, there are exceptions.

Legitimate Reasons Not to Write

    1. You are suffering from serious illness or sleep deprivation.

    2. Flying monkeys have stolen your computer, burned down your house, and are dive-bombing to prevent you from using smoke signals from the fire to write your manuscript.

    3. Your family needs you more (always a valid reason, but remember to differentiate between “need” and “want”).

    4. You truly don’t believe you have anything worth saying—and don’t want to find out if you’re wrong.

    5. The thought of failing scares you more than the thought of never trying.

Legitimate Reasons Not to Cook

    1. You’re married to a fabulous cook who will make anything you want.

    2. The insurance company still hasn’t ponied up for the last time you burned down the kitchen. (Notice the fire theme in these excuses.)

    3. You believe that a box with sixty unpronounceable ingredients will provide your family with a healthier or tastier meal than you, a pan, and six things from your Fridge. Come to think of it, perhaps that should be a feature on Pots ‘n Pens: Six Things from Your Fridge. ;)

    4. You’re eating out somewhere that doesn’t have a mascot, a jingle, or a “Value Menu.”

    5. You’re working on your novel.

Bonus Reason for Either

    6. I need to _________________ instead today. But tomorrow, I will definitely take time to _______________ my heart out.

Okay, since I’ve stalled long enough myself, here is today’s recipe for Egg Casserole. There are countless versions of this, but what I like best about this variation is the perfectly dense yet fluffy consistency.

1 lb. ground sausage

2 c. diced potatoes

1 c. diced onion

½ c. chopped green onion

1 finely chopped bell pepper

1 tsp. sage

1 tsp. salt

1 tsp. pepper

8 eggs

4 oz. (½ c.) milk

12 oz. (1½ c.) evaporated milk

2 tsp. dry mustard

4 slices white bread, cubed

1 c. shredded cheddar cheese

Preheat oven to 350˚. Stirring often, cook sausage and potatoes in a skillet on medium high heat until sausage is starting to brown. Add onions, greens onions, and bell pepper, and cook a few more minutes until sausage is browned. Mix in sage, salt, and pepper, and let cook for one more minute. Drain.

In a large bowl, beat eggs. Stir in milk, evaporated milk, and mustard. Then add sausage mix, bread, and cheese. Once thoroughly mixed, pour into greased pan. (I used a 9x13 glass pan.) Cook at 350˚ for 40-50 minutes, until egg is firm.

Get going. Don’t put it off!

Twix Cheesecake and Aiming for Perfection

Aiming for perfection—we’ve all done it. Whether in cooking, writing, parenting, or dusting, it’s a noble pursuit.

Why wouldn’t we want to be the best? With perfection as the goal, low standards disappear, rough edges are smoothed, and grand results take shape. When we aim beyond our understanding, our knowledge and abilities can be fundamentally changed for the better.

Perfection, of course, is a dangerous goal as well. Mirages are unattainable. There’s always a flavor to adjust, a sentence that’s good but not great, an A- that could be an A+, and, of course, those dust specks in the air that settle right back down until those clean surfaces. I hate those specks!

There’s always more to do. But that last step is elusive. For example, the writer of a scene that makes 80 percent of readers cry longs to learn how to pull tears from the stone hearts of the other 20 percent. Perfection is the ultimate tease. It can break your heart, erode your confidence, and taunt you like an intangible gingerbread man: “Catch me if you can!”

Don’t get me wrong, it’s worth trying for, but only if you can appreciate where it leads you more than where it hasn’t.

Since I received some lovely springform pans for Christmas, I’ve known that cheesecake has been in my future. Recently, however, I’ve become obsessed with making the perfect Twix cheesecake. And I don’t just mean a cheesecake incorporating Twix. No, no. I want a cheesecake with the full essence of Twix: the crispy cookie, the mellow caramel, and the chocolate draping over it all.

The problem, as you might have guessed from today’s lecture, is that I had no idea what I was doing. The Twix desserts I found online all sounded tasty but missed the mark of that perfect dessert of my dreams. After much thinking, I decided on a shortbread crust, a vanilla/Twix bar middle, creamy caramel, and a chocolate ganache topping. In execution, it's a very sweet, delicious dessert, though not exactly my idealized version.

Still, it is good. And perfection can wait for me to chase it another day.

Twix Cheesecake

Shortbread Crust
1 1/4 c. flour
1/3 c. granulated sugar
1/3 c. finely crushed shortbread cookies
1 tsp. orange peel
8 tbsp. softened butter
1 egg, lightly beaten
1/4 tsp. vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 400°. Lightly grease a 9-inch springform pan. Stir the dry ingredients together. Mash or cut in butter until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Add egg and vanilla, and mix just until the dough forms a ball.

Spread a bit more than 1/3 of the dough over the bottom of the pan. Prick dough all over with a fork. Bake until crust is lightly golden brown, about 10 to 14 minutes. Cool completely on rack. Press remaining dough around the sides of the pan, attaching dough to the bottom crust.

Cream Cheese Mixture
24 oz. cream cheese
1 c. sugar
5 large eggs
3 tbsp. flour
1 1/2 tsp. almond extract
1 1/2 tsp. lemon juice
12 oz. sour cream
1/4 c. heavy cream
12 fun-size Twix bars

All ingredients should be near room temperature before you begin. Cut up Twix bars into thin slices and set aside.

Beat the cream cheese on a low setting until light and fluffy. Gradually add sugar, beating until creamy. Add one egg at a time and beat after each egg. Mix in flour, almond extract, and lemon juice. Add the sour cream and heavy cream and beat well. Stir in Twix pieces. Pour mixture into the springform pan.

Caramel Layer
30 caramel candies

2 tbsp. milk

Preheat oven to 325°. Melt caramel with milk, being careful not to overcook. Pour over cheesecake. (Mine sank a little into the cheesecake and made a swirl layer. You could also refrigerate the cheesecake before adding caramel for more of a coated look.)

Place in the middle of the top rack of oven for 1 hour and 15 minutes. When time is up, turn oven off, slightly prop open oven door, and leave in oven for 1 more hour. Remove to a rack and cool for at least an hour before adding ganache.

Ganache
6 oz. semi-sweet chocolate, chopped
1/2 c. heavy whipping cream
3/4 tsp. butter, room temperature

Place chopped chocolate in a glass or stainless steel bowl. In small saucepan, heat cream and butter over medium heat just until boiling. Pour the boiling cream over the chocolate and allow to stand for a few minutes. Stir until smooth. Cool slightly and then pour over cheesecake. Evenly spread the ganache over the top of the cheesecake. Cover and return to the refrigerator for several hours or overnight. Serve and enjoy. :)

Pork Lo Mein

While I love pontificating endlessly about writing, life, and the way that kitchen utensils can revolutionize our view of the universe, it’s often far more productive—and appreciated—to cut right to the point.

The point: When my tummy is happy, I’m happy. When I’m happy, my writing habits are better. Thus, good food is very important for me as a writer.

And this recipe makes my tummy very happy indeed.

Pork Lo Mein

12–16 oz. of pork
A few tablespoons of peanut oil (or olive oil if there are allergy issues)
1 c. green onion
4 or 5 large carrots
1 medium white onion
1 bell pepper
bean sprouts (optional)

Sauce

2 T. soy sauce
2 T. sugar
1 T. sesame oil
1 T. rice vinegar (or white vinegar)
3 T. sherry
two pinches of ground white pepper (red pepper could be used)
2 T. cornstarch
2 c. chicken broth
3 T. minced garlic
1 tsp. garlic salt
1 T. chili powder
2 T. red wine (optional)

Cook and drain 11 oz. of lo mein or other long (preferably thin) egg noodles. Set aside.

Cut pork (I use tenderloin), carrots, and white onion into ¼-inch thick (or smaller) strips. Chop green onions and finely dice bell pepper.

Mix and thoroughly stir sauce ingredients, and set aside.

Heat peanut oil on medium heat in large skillet or wok. Add pork, carrots, white onion, and bell pepper and cook a few minutes in covered skillet until pork is nearly done. Add green onion (and bean sprouts if used).

Once pork is cooked through, add noodles and sauce to pan and stir until fully coated, adding more peanut oil if necessary. Fry on medium high heat, stirring often until sauce thickens and noodles are lightly browned.

Slurp to your heart’s content. J