Lauren From Texas

My name is Chelsea, but you may know me as BF4E… Blog Friend 4 Ever. Lauren and I traded places today. You should probably head over to my blog to check her out, but not yet! I know I’m not Lauren, but if she deems me worthy enough to write on her blog, you should find me worthy enough to read. And besides, if you don’t behave and give me a warm welcome, I’ll tell Lauren on you. And trust me, you don’t want her wrath.

The first time Lauren and I met, she sweat for the entire 4 hour date. It’s not her fault. We sat outside in the Texas heat for brunch because I don’t feel temperature. The second time we met, I was boring. I had a migraine that eventually led me to stay up all night throwing up in the bathroom. The third time was successful. Maybe it was because we had a buffer. A buffer in the form of a sweet Canadian girl named Corlene. So this weekend was a big test for us. Can we have a normal date? If you put the two of us in a room together, can we make it out without either of our bodies having adverse effects?

The suspense is killing you, I know.

We started our date at about 10:40 on Saturday morning because I had to drive across the country to see her and I don’t believe in waking up before 8 a.m. on a Saturday even if there is a promise of homemade Sangria. I was greeted by Lauren, Michael, and their two vicious pups. We immediately decided that 11 a.m. was not too early to start drinking our Sangria because we were going to be cooking… and cooking is normally done in the evening, so we were allowed to participate in any evening activity without guilt. So she measured and poured and measured and poured, and her masterpiece was complete.

Each of us had chosen a few recipes to prepare. I chose Spaghetti Bolognese (which Lauren calls Spaghetti Bologna and makes me want to hurl), Chickette (which Lauren pronounced “Chick-et” even though it’s supposed to be pronounced “Chicketti”), and Mini Meatloaf (she knows how to say that). With a wine glass in one hand and a spatula in the other, we rocked the kitchen. Naturally.

Lauren was a bit nervous at first. She had never done this before. She asked a lot of questions and, although she hated to admit it, she doubted our ability to complete such a monstrous task in a reasonable amount of time. I understood her reservations. I felt the same way the first time I committed to a day in the kitchen. But let’s just be honest for a second. You know us, right? How could we fail? We don’t fail. Not in the kitchen. No ma’am.

Well, only the one time.

So after Lauren caught her wooden spoon on fire, we moved on. We cooked our little hearts out and talked about really important matters like blogging, our husbands, and our dear friend Julia Child. Four hours came and went in a flash. 27 meals. She kept 13 and I kept 14. Either I’m extremely selfish or she’s extremely generous. You be the judge. We stood in front of her refrigerator and beamed over our accomplishment. Then we made Michael beam over our accomplishment since he was so lazy all day. All he did was lift a few weights, ride his bike a couple hours, and then run a few miles. Freaking slacker.

We felt productive. We felt proud. We felt relaxed. Lauren no longer thought that Once A Month Cooking could kill her. In fact, she was so relaxed that all hell broke loose and she mixed up the second batch of sangria without.measuring.anything. My heart almost burst out of my chest, I was so proud of her.

We’d originally thought we’d need to be in the kitchen for about 6 hours. So when we finished after 4 hours, we weren’t sure what to do. Calling it a day and heading home wasn’t really an option… even if that’s what she wanted me to do. (And I have no idea if that’s what she wanted me to do because I didn’t ask her. Instead I refilled my glass, laid under a blanket on her couch, and watched an episode of Obsessed where this chick was scared of her poop.)

Lauren decided to take me around her great little city. She showed me the local Blockbuster, Spec’s, HEB, and (get ready for it) a drive-thru Little Caesar’s. It blew my mind. I felt like I was living in the future. Scientists had perfected a way to speed cook a pizza and serve it hot and fresh through a window. But instead, it was just mass produced pizza stored in a hot drawer for the next lazy customer to pick up in exchange for $5 and their dignity. We gladly gave them both and convinced them to throw in an order of crazy bread because we hadn’t yet had our required daily portion of food soaked in butter.

In case you can’t tell, we had a fabulous day. I know you’re all really jealous of me because you think Lauren is pretty awesome. And you should be. She is awesome. And she makes great Sangria and thinks I’m funny. I’m not sure if those two are correlated… I don’t want to know. Let’s just forget I said anything.

We finally called it a night at about 8:45. I loaded up my food and when they weren’t looking, I grabbed this guy and took off.

We decided that we love yall so much that we’d like to share our recipes with you. I can’t give you the Spaghetti Bolognese recipe because it’s in a cookbook that a family friend wrote and I feel like that’s stealing. And I’m just not down with that. So you can go here to learn more about the cookbook. (The entire cookbook is freezable recipes, I highly recommend it!)

The Chickette recipe is a family favorite. My Meme used to make this in bulk and keep them in the freezer. Everytime I make it someone asks me for the recipe. I’ve posted it here, on my sad excuse for a recipe blog, in an effort to support my laziness and not ever have to write the recipe down again.

I’ve always thought that Meatloaf is an amazing food with an unfortunate name. Don’t be a food snob. There is nothing wrong with loving a lump of ground meat mixed with ketchup and other outstanding ingredients that can be purchased for under $1 each. I’m a meatloaf lover. However I’m also a firm believer that not all meatloaf should be created equal. No worries, I’ve done the work for you. This one is the best. Straight from my mother’s recipe basket.

Chelsea’s Mom’s Meatloaf

2 c. breadcrumbs
3/4 c. chopped onions
1/4 c. milk
2 eggs
1 t. dry mustard
1/4 c. ketchup, plus more for the top
2 t. salt
2 lbs. ground meat

Beat eggs. Mix in crumbs, onions, and meat. Add milk, ketchup, dry mustard, and salt. Mix up. Please don’t be a wuss, use your hands. Don’t overmix. I’m not sure why. But they always say not to overmix on Food Network and I think they are a reliable source. Shape into loaf, pour 1/2 c. ketchup on top. Bake 50 minutes at 400. If you want to freeze this, I prefer to shape these into mini loafs… meatloaf balls, if you will. I put two (uncooked) in an 8×8 pan and double wrap the pan with foil. Perfect meal for Stephen and me.

If you actually made it to the end, thanks for sticking around! The pressure was intense but I persevered. Blogging is not for the weak.

For as long as I can remember, I have been in love with cooking. I remember at 8 years old, sitting in the kitchen, watching my mom pound steaks thin, dipping them in egg, dredging them in flour, and frying them to make my dad’s favorite supper. I remember being 5 years old and making homemade bread with my grandma, learning how to knead, let rise, and knead again. I remember being able to make homemade chicken and dumplings at 12 years old. I loved making up my own “recipes” – my first was when I was about 10, and was a carrot and celery soup. While it was not my shining moment, I was proud of my creation.

I’ve since improved.

Everything I know about cooking, I’ve learned from different sources. Whether it’s a cooking show, a family member, a friend, a website – it all fits together to create the cook I am now.

Whenever I am cooking, I can’t help but think about the people who taught me the various tasks I am performing. This Saturday, as I was making homemade buttermilk pancakes for breakfast, I measured the flour, scooping it out carefully. Next, I took a butter knife and tapped the sides of the measuring cup lightly, then skimmed the flat part of the knife across the top of the cup, making the flour smooth and level. My older sister taught me to do that one summer when I was visiting her and we were making cookies. She told me, “When you scoop out the flour, there will be air pockets in the measuring cup. When you’re baking, you have to be precise. Tap the sides of the measuring cup, and the flour will fall to fill the empty spaces. Then smooth the top.”

My granny taught me to cook scrambled eggs over a low heat. For years I scorched many a pan of scrambled eggs, thinking I just didn’t flip them around enough. “No,” she told me one day. “The secret is to cook them over a very low heat. Cook them slowly, and they will be perfectly cooked and fluffy.” Now I never make scrambled eggs without thinking about her.

I can’t use green onions without thinking about my dad, the best creole cook I know; he puts them in everything. I’ve learned so much from watching him cook. Butter goes with everything, so does white rice, and don’t be afraid to use heavy whipping cream instead of milk in your potato soup – it’s worth it.

Anytime we were “counting” anything, my grandma always added “one for the pot.” Hot dogs, cups of rice, it didn’t matter. “One for me, one for you, one for your dad [etc.] … and one for the pot.” I would imagine the pot coming to life during the meal and saying “Hey! That extra one was for me!” It never failed – somebody always ate The Pot’s hot dog. Sorry, Pot. Maybe next time.

This past Christmas, I made my very first apple pie from scratch. I have only accomplished a few things in my life, but right under the Top 2 (snagging the best man I’ve ever met, and graduating with a college degree) was my homemade apple pie. I proudly carried it into my inlaws’ house; you would have thought the thing was made of gold and diamonds, the way I was beaming over it.

It’s just that cooking… and baking… make me feel accomplished. Happy. Calm.

When I first saw the preview for Julie & Julia, I somehow missed the blogging aspect. But I did pick up on the fact that Meryl Streep, one of the best actresses of all time, was playing a very famous chef who I remembered watching on PBS when I was a little girl. Don’t ask me what a little girl was doing watching cooking shows on PBS – Julia Child, The Frugal Gourmet, and Justin Wilson were my favorites – but I would watch, mesmerized, as they chopped, minced, broiled, and baked. Immediately I thought, “I have to see that movie!” After doing a little research, I discovered that, not only was the movie about cooking, but BLOGGING TOO. Oh man. This was just too good!

I don’t want to write a movie synopsis. I’ve written enough book reports and movie reviews to last a lifetime, thank you very much. But I will tell you this – if you enjoy cooking, or blogging, or any combination of the two – GO SEE THIS MOVIE RIGHT NOW. I don’t care what you’re doing. I don’t care if you don’t have anyone to go with or your husband won’t go with you or you don’t like to go to the movies and you always wait until they come out on DVD. Find a theater, go to the matinee, beg, borrow, steal – whatever you have to do. It’s a great movie.

(Or you can wait until it comes out on DVD. No one is going to die if you wait – except you, of anticipation. It’s just THAT GOOD.)

I think my favorite part of the movie (besides, I don’t know, the COOKING, and the BLOGGING, and the AMAZING ACTING, and, ohmygosh, THE BUTTER), was when Amy Adams was SO EXCITED to get her first blog comment. I know exactly how she feels. When you’re a blogger, you’re a drop in the bucket – until someone comments, and then suddenly, you feel like frigging Hemingway. Someone knows who you are! Someone likes your blog! You could conquer the world! I love that.

I also loved how, when she had a super long tedious tiring awful really terrible stressful day at work, she went into her kitchen to make a chocolate cream pie, and that is what soothed her. I have talked about this with friends and my husband before – cooking is my stress relief. All I need is some good music (lately it’s been Pandora Radio on my iPhone), a glass of something cold and refreshing, and my cast iron skillet, and the stress just melts away. I remember when I was in high school, sautéing mushrooms in butter, drinking a coke, listening to Norah Jones, and thinking, “I feel better.” Just last night, I got off work at 6pm, walked straight into my kitchen, and started cooking. It makes me happy. It calms me down. I am in control. I am creative. I make things that my husband and I can enjoy.

“You know what I love about cooking? I love that after a day where nothing is sure … you can come home and absolutely know that if you add egg yolks to chocolate and sugar and milk, it will get thick. It’s such a comfort.” -Julie Powell

Couldn’t have said it better myself.

For kicks, here’s the recipe for what I made last night.

Turkey & Spinach Quiche (this recipe was adapted from another recipe, “Sausage & Spinach Quiche,” which was written by a friend.)

Ingredients:

-9 oz smoked sliced turkey breast (lunchmeat)
-6 green onions, sliced (slice 2 or 3 all the way up to the top, the rest of them only slice the white part)
-2 garlic cloves, minced (I “finely chop” because I hate garlic mincers; today I was out of fresh garlic so I used garlic powder, not as good of course but it worked in a pinch)
-1 bag of frozen spinach (I think mine was a 16 oz. bag) – fresh would also work, but this was so much easier. I thawed, rinsed, and squeezed all the excess water out of it
-2 cups grated Monterrey Jack cheese (I am sure any shredded cheese would work)
-9-inch pie shell, partially baked
-4 large eggs
-1-1/2 cups of half & half, whole milk, or 2% (I have used all three, they all work)
-1/2 t. salt
-1/8 t. pepper
-Parmesan cheese

[Note: Mine made enough for the pie crust and a little extra - so I sprayed a small glass Pyrex pan with cooking spray, poured in the extra mixture, and baked it along with the quiche - it turned out great also, so that's an alternative if you want a "crustless" version.]

Cut the turkey into bite-sized pieces and sauté with a little olive oil, onions, and garlic. When it’s nice and browned, add the spinach and cook until that’s hot.

Whisk together the cheese, eggs, milk, salt, and pepper.

Add the turkey & spinach mixture.

Pour into pie crust,

[Note: My mom taught me to pinch the sides of a store-bought pie crust to make it look "homemade."]

sprinkle with parmesan cheese,

and bake at 350 for 40-45 minutes, or until a knife inserted into the center comes out clean and the top is golden-brown.

I had mine with an ice-cold Screwdriver. A perfect way to combat the Monday blues.

Bon appétit!

Side note: My BF4EV (Blog Friend 4EV), Chelsea, also wrote a great blog post yesterday about Julie & Julia. This Saturday, Chelsea and I will be getting together for a day of cooking meals with which to stock our freezers. Then we’re going to guest post on each other’s blogs on Monday. You’re going to want to stay tuned. We’ll be wearing aprons. And taking pictures. I’m just saying.