Jean's Dip

As long as I can remember, Jean's Dip has been a staple of family gatherings and other social functions. It's wonderful on anything: chips, crackers, as a sandwich spread, on a spoon... Your grandmother originally got the recipe from our next-door neighbor, conveniently named Jean (the dip's name would have been inconvenient otherwise). I'm sure this dip is pretty common-place in the midwest, and goes by many names, but to me it will always be Jean's Dip*


*Not named because you'll actually fit into your jeans if you make it too often.

Ingredients:
- 8 oz cream cheese, softened
- 8 oz sour cream
- 8 oz Carl Buddig brand Beef lunchmeat, diced. I'm not usually specific about naming products because after all, I'm not getting paid to shill for some food company. But this is one of the VERY few instances (perhaps the only one) where I'll 100% advocate for a particular product. THIS is the meat you need to use.
-4 bunches green onion (tops only), chopped

Instructions:
- Blend cream cheese and sour cream together
- Add lunchmeat and green onion tops, stir until incorporated
- Wait to eat for at least two hours to allow flavors to blend, fail miserably, hunch over bowl with spoon and fierce expression to deter others who might want to partake. 


And that's it. Now you too can wield the dip that brings potluckers to their knees. The onus falls on you, my offspring, to keep this dip in circulation after my demise, because your father is a heathen and won't eat it.

Things to Remember in the Kitchen

I've always believed that cooking is a lot of trial and error. Mostly error. All the baller things I've learned about cooking have most often come about because I fucked something up. Badly. And because parenting is about teaching you kids the ways of the world (or some happy horseshit of that nature), I thought I would share some of the things I've learned over the years, so that you can skip doing them yourselves. Learn from my mistakes, kids!

1.  Pay attention to which burner you've turned on, especially if you have a flat-top electric range. This shouldn't need to be said (but then again you will be related to me after all). If you've been waiting for your water to boil and simultaneously wondering why your tea kettle is smoking for no reason, check which one you've actually turned on.
2. If you try to melt congealed bacon grease to dispose of it by turning the burner on HIGH, it WILL catch on fire. And you'll ruin a dirty sheet smothering the flames because you couldn't get the flaming pan out the back door in time. Also you will have to scrub the oven hood with 409 to remove the smoke damage and you definitely WON'T be getting your deposit back when you move out.On the plus side, you'll realize just how terrible you are in any sort of survival situation, which will enable you to get the hell out of the way in the event a more serious one occurs in your lifetime.
3. When your food processor has an indicator line as to how much food/liquid it can safely handle, it's not fucking around. Yelling "STAY OUT OF MY KITCHEN, BIG GUV'MENT!" will not help you clean off your appliances/countertops when you put too much in the poor FP and it explodes everywhere.
4. While I 100% advocate DWIK (Drinking While In Kitchen), make sure any fine chopping (or any serious knife usage at all) occurs BEFORE you get too many sheets to the wind. If the max is 7, you need to have that shit done by 2,  MAYBE 3 sheets tops.
5. When in doubt, ask Betty. No doubt you'll hear me refer to Betty Crocker so often you'll wonder if she's some weird aunt you've never met. Betty may not be adventurous, and she's definitely a product of the times (bologna infused biscuits for a dinner party in a 1970's edition of the cookbook, for example), but she knows everything there is to know about cooking basics. Want to know how to cut up a whole chicken? Ask Betty. Ever wonder the different ranges of cheeses from soft to hard? Ask Betty. Want to know how to cook any matter of egg? Ask Betty. Except nowadays Betty won't tell you how to make soft-boiled, because apparently they don't come to a safe enough temperature. Screw you, Betty! I can eat near-raw egg yolks if I damn well please!
6. Be adventurous! even if those around you (your dad) are not. Sometimes the best dishes are ones you take a chance on. For example, your father LOVES sweet corn risotto. It's one of his favorite things I make. But he never would have tried it if I hadn't admonished him to suck it up and partake of a dish I took a chance on making.
7. Have a contingency plan. Sometimes, despite our better efforts, a dish just...blows. It blows so hard you have to throw it away outside in the dumpster so that it doesn't grow legs and murder you in the night. When that happens, a contingency plan is needed: either pizza delivery on speed dial  or a fast food drive-thru. Which leads us to my final tip:
8. Don't be too precious about your cooking. Yes, you're going to have dishes that are so amazing you want to suffocate people by shoving their faces into them. But you're also going to have dishes so terrible that you wish they were laced with rohypnol so that no one will remember what a train wreck they were. But remember: no matter how god-awful something is, you always have tomorrow to colon-stomp your kitchen into producing something truly awe-inspiring. It's an averages thing, kids. Make more good than bad, and you're officially a good cook.

Cucumber Leek Soup

One day, back in my high school days, I was hanging out with your Grandpa Bob (my dad, not your father's dad who is also named Bob, or my stepfather who is again named Bob, but whom everyone calls Bab thanks to me) at the grocery store because I was one coooooooooool kid (you may have guessed that I was not cool). A rack of those little free recipes caught my eye, so I started perusing. Now, this was before I was the master chef I am today, so I wasn't interested in anything I couldn't make without burning the kitchen down. An interest I should still have, sadly. So with limited options, I came across this soup. I had never even heard of leeks before, but like the blind walking unaided across a freeway, I plunged on undaunted. And was rewarded by a supremely bad-ass soup that coincidentally your father hates. More for me!

Ingredients

• 2 large cucumbers
• 1 bunch leeks. There are usually 3 in a bunch...so I guess 3. 3 leeks. 1 leek 2 leeks 3 leeks! Now the word sounds weird. This is going to make the rest of this recipe difficult for me. 
• 1 TBS butter
• 1 TBS flour
• 1 carton (4 cups) chicken broth or stock
• Salt and pepper to taste

Instructions

• Intermittently peel your cucumbers, leaving long strips of peel intact lengthwise. Quarter lengthwise, seed, and chop in about 3/4 inch pieces
• Quarter and slice your leeks, making sure to wash them thoroughly AFTER you cut them up, as leeks are filthy, filthy vegetables. I didn't do this the first time I made this soup, because I'm an idiot I had never worked with leeks before and didn't know this about them. The soup had dirt in the bottom which was VERY unappealing (looking). It was still delicious though because of course I still ate it. 
• Melt your butter over medium heat in a large stock pot
• When your butter is melted, sprinkle in your flour and stir until browned 
• Add your broth/stock and bring to a boil
• When your broth is boiling, add your vegetables and cook until tender, about 10-15 minutes
• Salt and pepper to taste

This is probably one of my favorite soups in the universe, and it is dead easy to make. Even people who "can't boil water!" can make it! By the way, the only way a person could not boil water is if they're above sea level. And even then, I'm pretty sure there are ways around nature. You're just a shitty cook, get a Betty Crocker and get over it. "Can't boil water" my happy ass.

Even though your father hates this soup, I'm hoping you like it. Because while I love it to death, I either have to eat it everyday for a week or eat HUGE helpings at a time. You guys have to be my soup wing-mans. Wing-mens? Either way.

Man-Catching Pot Roast

I have always believed that people need to play to their strengths. MY strength does not lie with my appearance. I mean, I'm fairly ok with how I look (the perks of being arrogant), but I know I'm not in competition with any classically hot ladies, capisce? So I figured out early on to slow my roll on the Miss Universe pageantry and learn a trade that would up my marriageable ante. And so I (unfortunately for my waistline) chose cooking. I don't know if it was because of the 50's propaganda that a way to a man's heart is through his stomach or if I just really, really like to eat. Either way it worked, because that's how I bagged your dad. I just kept inviting myself over and cooking for him until I glutted him into submission.*

*It helps that we were best friends first. I would not advise doing this with a stranger.

The dish that sealed the deal was one I like to call the Man-Catching Pot Roast. Now, I personally find myself to be quite the little kitchenista (thanks again, arrogance!). And while this dish is pretty fab, it's also possible that it snared young Nan because he was subsisting entirely on frozen chicken nuggets and fast food when we got together. It's a little late to question it now, as the ink has dried on our marriage certificate.

The lesson is: when you find that someone you'd like to make your special someone, do like your mom and feed them into a coma so that they are susceptible to your influence. Works every time...unless it doesn't.

Ingredients

• 3-5 pound pot roast (or chuck roast or whatever. I'm not looking at names here, I'm only looking at price. Your mother is nothing if not occasionally a tight-wad)
• 1 package Lipton onion soup mix
• 1/2- 1 cup beef broth, depending on how much sauce (or beefy dregs, as I call it) you want to brew up while cooking this bad boy. These dregs are crucial to making a delicious stew with the leftovers, so don't overlook them because of their unfortunate name.
• 4 medium potatoes, cut into quarters
• 2 carrots, cut into quarters
• 1 large onion, cut into quarters 
• quarter cup flour
• 2 TBS butter

Instructions

•  Melt your butter in a large pan over medium-high eat
• Sift soup mix through a strainer to get out most of the onions because your dad is a weenie. Mix half of the remaining powder in with your flour. "But Mom!," I hear you ask plaintively, "Why sift out the dehydrated onions if we're only going to put a GIANT one in with the roast?" The answer is simple: because your dad can eat around a giant quartered onion. And you need the giant one for flavor. Go do your homework. 
• Dredge the roast with the flour mixture 
• Now SEAR THE SHIT out of that floured roast in your pan. Make sure you get all the sides, and make sure all those sides are deliciously brown looking. This is to keep all the juiciness in your roast. Theoretically, I suppose you don't have to do this since we're popping that fucker in a crockpot, but I like to do it because it makes me seem more chef-like and makes the whole house smell really good immediately, as opposed to waiting around for that roast-scented Glade to permeate. 
• Pop aforementioned roast into a crockpot on low heat for 8-10 hours, or high heat for 4-6 if you're impatient. Guess which one I usually pick? High.
• Pour you broth in the bottom of your crockpot and sprinkle the remaining soup mix.
• Now put the lid on and go watch some episodes on Netflix in lieu of doing other housework
• 2 hours before you want to dive face-first into that roast, put in your veggies. I've found that if you put it all in at the same time, the veggies get hella limpy and that's just gross. 
• You'll know the roast is done when a) the meat shreds to hell with a fork when you're trying to slice it, b) the vegetables are tender but not soggy, and c) you come back to the crockpot to find some meat is missing, forgetting that you accidentally ate some when "testing to make sure it was ok." 

And there you go. This meal is how I tricked your father into dating me. I even fancied it up and made TWO (2) kinds of gravy, which your father didn't even touch because he slops ketchup on everything but breakfast cereal.

So should you think of becoming vegetarian (be my guest-I have several cookbooks you can borrow and they are the shit), remember that the only reason you exist is because of pot roast 

An Instance in Which Your Father is Conceivably WRONG

Your father seems to think I'll be a great mom when the time comes. I disagree. No offense, but you already terrify me and you don't even exist. I think once you get the point where you can hold your head up without assistance I'll be ok, but it's going to be a rough couple of months until that happens. So let's make a deal: you have insanely strong baby necks and can hold up your noggins and I'll try not to be terrified that I'll kill you accidentally by holding you incorrectly.

Your father bases his criterion that I'll be a good mother on the fact that our cat Roark (full name Schroedinger Roark Oedipus Jables-I hope he's still around long enough for you to remember him) likes to be held in a traditional baby-cradling way. I have several arguments against this.

One, Roark is a CAT, and a dumb one at that. He thinks he's a person, and was very in love with me before we fixed him. I don't want to get into the specifics, but let's just say he sprayed me while I was reading a book and I grabbed his tail and punched him in the kitty nutsack for it. He didn't notice.

Two, if I accidentally drop a CAT, he should conceivably land on his feet. This one doesn't always; again, he's not very smart or cat-like. Babies will most likely not do this.

Three, to feed him I dump food in a bowl and walk away. There is considerably more effort in feeding a child.

Four, did I mention he's a CAT and not a HUMAN INFANT? This is pretty crucial to my argument, and I fear I didn't highlight this enough.

I feel this is how having a baby will go:

Baby: Gurgle gurgle coooo!

Me: Oh God are you choking on something? How are you choking on something? WHY DON'T I KNOW BABY HEIMLICH?

Baby: *adorable cough*

Me: How did my baby get TB? How did you get TB baby? How is that even possible?! Is it the black lung? HOW DID YOU GET A MINING JOB?!

Baby: waaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiillllll

Me: What's wrong? Why are you crying? WHY AM I SUCH A TERRIBLE MOTHER?


And that's probably the best case scenario.

I know I'm coming at this from the POV of a) never having kids and b) not having much interaction with babies in general. I'm sure this level of paranoia is normal for new mothers or women embarking on the journey to be mothers. The only positive I can think of is that I'm getting my parental paranoia out of the way super early so that I don't become one of those insufferable helicopter mothers that you grow to resent by age 8.


Don't worry. Your momma has always and will always want you and love you, you just terrify the ever-loving bejeesus out of her right now.

Almost Perfect Potato Soup

There once was a little restaurant called Angus Inn. Like most things I love, it eventually left me.* It lost 30 pounds, got a face lift, changed its name, and left me heartbroken and hungry.

Just kidding about those first two things. It did change hands, though, and I haven't been back. Not because I'm mad or anything... it's actually because the last few times I went before the changeover, I found them to be lacking, which is a disappointment in itself. I can choose between salad OR soup? What happened to getting both, bitches?

Anyway, after much (zero) trial and error, I've gotten as close to their divine soup as I can without going back. And since the restaurant is located roughly 700 miles from where I'm sitting, it's going to have to do.

 *****

ALMOST PERFECT POTATO SOUP 

Ingredients

• 1 carton chicken broth
•  1 can evaporated milk (NOT sweet and condensed, you'll make it taste terrible. Honestly, if you mix this up you're probably a body snatcher and not my child. This shouldn't even have to be said. You've embarrassed us both.)
•  2-3 large potatoes, depending on how thick you want it (that's what she said!), chopped
•  1 large onion, blended in a food processor until finely chopped. This is for your father, who won't eat any onion he can see because he's a weenie
•  2 cloves of garlic, finely chopped.
•  8 slices of bacon, plus whatever you think you'll snack on whilst cooking (you know it's going to happen), chopped in a 1" dice
•  Salt to taste
•  LIBERAL white pepper. You'll know you've added to much if it's too hot to eat. Use less next time. Ok, fine. 1-2 tsp
•  Ground black pepper to taste

Instructions

• Fry bacon in a 5 qt dutch oven until crisp, remove and drain on paper towels. Reserve 1 T of bacon fat, discard the rest. Please don't melt the garbage can doing this.
• Saute onions and garlic in fat until onion is transparent and garlic is slightly brown
• Sprinkle 1 T flour over mixture, stirring until flour is browned
• Add the chicken broth and stir, bringing to a boil
• Add chopped potatoes and continue boiling until potatoes have reached desired tenderness, turn down heat
• Remove roughly half of the cooked potatoes, set aside
• Pour the remaining broth and vegetables into a food processor and blend until the consistency is creamy and there's no way your father can see any chunks of onions, return to dutch oven
•  Add set-aside potatoes, evaporated milk, salt, peppers, and heat gently. Make sure not to boil the soup, as it will curdle. And you know what curdling causes, don't you kids? That's right. Bambi to become an orphan. You think about that.

I call this soup my Almost Perfect because there's just something missing. I think it's the candlelit room, soft jazz music, and someone else to clean up the kitchen I just destroyed making it. Someday...

* Most things I love don't leave me. I'm just too loveable. You'll see what I'm talking about, someday.

Fried Cabbage

There's a lot of things I can say about your Great Grandmother Mary, and most of them are unpleasant. She's a total bitch. No, seriously. In all my days on this earth I have not met another person with her capacity for discord, hate, and just general shittiness. She stole my car once because she didn't like my boyfriend. That. Happened.

Your father and I have a pact: if I ever become a cut-throat, hateful harpy like she is, he has to put me in the worst old-folks home we can find. We're talking tied-to-the-bed, leaving-me-in-dirty-Depends, shut-down-numerous-times-for-elder-abuse facility. Since he staunchly refuses to do this, the responsibility falls on you, my future offspring. Make me proud! Fear not, if I ever get that bad, you'll WANT to.

The only other thing I can say about her is that she's a great cook (with the exception of over-salting everything-her taste buds are dead from years of chainsmoking Dorals and general evilness). I'm using the present tense to describe her since I've not heard rejoicing in hell for her passing yet. This is one of my favorite recipes of hers, and will probably kill us all from heart disease through prolonged consumption.

******

FRIED CABBAGE 

Ingredients

• 1 large head of cabbage, torn into bite-size pieces
• 1 pound (yes) of bacon
• 1-2 T brown sugar, to taste
• Salt to taste

Instructions

•  Chop the bacon into 1" dice and saute in a large pan over medium-medium high heat, until crispy
•  Drain most of the bacon grease, reserving 2-3 T (or don't. It's your arteries. Mine are probably  already destroyed)
•  Add cabbage and stir frequently, until cabbage is all wilty and greased up like a luau pig, sprinkling with sugar and salt to taste

And there you have it. Who says evil doesn't beget some good? I obviously don't. Now eat up, making sure to keep a pre-dialed 911 call and insulin shot on hand.

Tortellini Siciliano

Once upon a time, your mother worked in an Italian restaurant....

And it was the shittiest place to work of all time. The managers and staff were perverts of the grossest order. Two days before I quit, I punched one of the managers for grabbing my ass.

So why did I stay? I hear you ask. Well, there are two reasons:

1) It was my first "big girl" job during my first summer break in college. I hadn't been in the workforce before and thus didn't know what the protocol was. I was afraid if I quit I'd never get another job, much the same way I wouldn't switch out of the advanced class in second grade because my teacher was a total me-hating bitch. I should have punched her, too. Dammit, what a wasted opportunity.

2) (The more important reason) Their food was fucking delicious and sometimes I got it for free. 

One of my most ordered (and least paid for) dishes was called the "Tortellini Sicilliano" which is cheese tortellini tossed with fried ham and sliced black olives and smothered in a vodka sauce.

Alas, after that summer I was no longer able to patronize that restaurant due to man-handling PTSD, so I decided to learn to make it on my own. I would tell those guys to suck it, but I'm pretty sure they would take it the wrong way.


****

TORTELLINI SICILLIANO 

Ingredients

• 28 oz can of whole tomatoes, pureed
• 8 oz heavy whipping cream. 
•  Hefty pinch of dried basil
• Hefty pinch of dried oregan
• 1/3-1/2 cup vodka, plus whatever you need to make a drink for yourself. <= This is a vitally important step, don’t forget it. Unless you're under 21 when you read this, then you had best forget it...or don't get caught.
•  1/2 medium white or yellow onion, finely chopped
•  2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
•  1/4 cup diced ham slices
•  1/4 cup black olives, sliced
• 1 T olive oil (or butter, if you’re a renegade)
•  2 bags frozen tortellini, cooked according to directions
•  Salt and pepper to your taste

 Instructions 

• * Heat olive oil on medium in a big-ass pan
•  Sauté ham, onion and garlic until ham is crispy, onion is transparent and garlic is lightly browned
•  Add oregano and basil
• Add pureed tomatoes and stir
•  Slug in your vodka and stir
•  Cook until the alcohol has cooked down and is not horrific tasting
•  Stir in heavy cream and heat for 2 minutes
•  Add olives
• Consume

And voila, my little chitlins. That is how you make your cake and eat it too. Except replace "cake" with "tortellini" and "eat it" with "eat it without fear of employer manhandling."