Culinary Appreciation

Well, tonight I have a couple of recipes to share. Now, those who know me at all will also know that I never use recipes when I'm cooking. Because I now have this blog to keep up, for the benefit of anyone reading I will try harder to keep track of trivial things like measurements, etc., when I am in the kitchen. So here's what I made for dinner tonight:

Gnocchi and Creamy Spinach Sauce

3 Tbsp. butter

¼ cup flour

2 ¼ cups of room temperature milk

5 oz. frozen spinach, thawed and drained

4 oz. shredded parmesan

Spices to taste: salt, pepper, basil, thyme, garlic, nutmeg

1 lb. gnocchi (follow directions on box)

Melt the butter. Whisk in the flour and the milk. As it thickens, put in the spices, cheese, and spinach and simmer for a ½ an hour. When the gnocchi are done (i.e. when they come to the top of the boiling water), serve them directly to the plate and ladle the sauce over them. Serves 4.

Meatballs and Mini Shells

Meatballs:

2 lbs. ground beef

½ lb pork sausage

3 large handfuls of bread crumbs

1 egg

1 dash of balsamic vinegar

¼ cup of ketchup

2 garlic cloves, minced
5 baby carrots, minced
2 Tbsp. honey

Salt

Pepper

2 sprigs of fresh thyme
Fennel seeds

Red pepper flakes

Nutmeg

Onion powder

3/4 lb of mini shell pasta (follow directions on the box)

Combine all ingredients. Mix well with your hands. Bake in over for 12 minutes on 400 degrees. Place in the crock pot with one can of Hunt’s Spaghetti Sauce, either with mushrooms or the traditional kind, a can of diced tomatoes, and a liberal sprinkling of parmesan cheese. Leave for 4-5 hours (If you want to be adventurous, try provolone or fresh mozzarella). Serves 8-10. 

There you go. Now, some of you might be asking yourselves, why does he want us to use our hands to mix the raw meat? Ugh! Now, now, simmer down. I know that some of you probably don't like the squishy texture of raw ground beef and sausage. Well, I guess you have two options then: 1) Use a spoon to mix the meat and keep depriving yourself of the joys included in what I believe to be an infantile regression to the good ol' days "when the world [was] mud-luscious" and "puddle-wonderful" (from E.E. Cummings "In just-Spring"); when you played in puddles formed by rain which had run into the ruts made by the passing wheels of automobiles, making such fine delicacies as mud cakes and pies with your brothers and sisters, who would "taste" them and compliment you highly on your culinary creations formed with clumps of clammy clay. Or 2) Do as I tell you and use your d--- fingers. I have never regretted doing it, and neither will you.

Now, why do you suppose I omit the measurements for spices? Excellent question (of course it is). The answer is beyond simple: I don't use measurements, and you shouldn't either. Everyone has different taste buds, some being more responsive to sour or bitter or sweet or salty or umami (I think I covered them all; score one for the Food Network junkie!). I am a firm believer that you can't trust a recipe to come out the way you like it. Live dangerously and control the amounts of seasonings in your food. 

Finally, some people--including Alton Brown, the host of Good Eats and Iron Chef America--are turned off by the thought of meatballs swimming in gloppy red sauce. While I respect such opinions (after all, everyone is entitled to one), I think the way I have it set up in this recipe is a perfect method for counteracting such--dare I say it--elitist sentiment. More meatballs, less sauce. Further, the sauce, when left for an extended period of time, tends to reduce drastically, so the meat-to-gloppiness ratio will continue to decrease the longer it stays in the crock pot.

Just a thought, though. Don't you find that making food is a perfect outlet for your creative functions and energy? I do. I think that cooking is the perfect way to experience the joys of creation at a certain level. For example, I once made a lasagna for a family in our ward who had just had a baby. Taking that meal to them made me feel a little nervous, perhaps like a parent whose child has just entered a sporting event or a dance recital. I simply crossed your fingers and hope he or she does well, and you hope, with confidence, that you were able to do your part in preparing them for that moment. When the word came back that the lasagna was a success, particularly with the husband who doesn't normally like lasagna, I felt proud of myself; however, (and maybe this will sound silly) I was prouder of the thing I had made than I was of myself for making it (Of course, I also felt somewhat embarassed by my parents who were standing there bragging about the other things I make, but that's beside the point). Ultimately, cooking is a noble function, capable of enlightening the mind and soul, even as it fills a hungry tummy.