Cheesy!

One should never underestimate the power of cheese. Think about it. Milk is a drink that most of us give up by the time we are 12. But with the assistance of a process that is little more than high-falutin' rot, milk becomes about a million different culinary substances, the most basic of which cause grown humans to slump into their seats and call for momma.  Entire villages in France are defined by their local cheese. It's as if there was a town in Wisconsin called "lactobacilli." I firmly believe that one over-hyped 90's era diner in Los Angeles stays in business because it had the mensa-like idea to make little balls of mac-n-cheese and deep fry them.

Furthermore, cheese is a substance for all seasons. In spring, there are tangy little balls of fresh goats' cheese that you can roll around in herbs and pepper. In summer, take an oozy-good triple cream with you on your picnics and mush it into baguette with slices of perfect tomato. In fall a simple plate of honeycrisp apples and white cheddar is lunch, to me, about half the days of the week. A small round of indecently decadent truffle cheese makes a lovely Christmas gift.

But while cheese, on it's own, inspires devotion - you may have heard that the French describe the smell of some cheeses as "the feet of the gods?" - it is the application of heat to cheese that turns fully functioning humans into grabby little creatures unable to speak but through desirous moans and grunts. Melted cheese can take the possibility of something being, well, inedible off the table. Some say pizza is like sex for young men: no matter how bad it is, it's still pizza and therefore good. Mothers are regularly encouraged to hide otherwise unacceptable vegetables such as broccoli under layers of melted orange cheese in order to placate picky children. "Cheese pulls," - those colorfully lit, somewhat pornographic shots of separating slices of melty pizza/burrito/sandwich - are actually required by contract to take up a large part of any fast food advertisement because franchisees know that nothing sells crap food more than cheese.

I have no idea why melted cheese taps into our primordial desires more than, say, cream of wheat, but I do not deny it, and I certainly don't look down on it. There is, however, a lot of opportunity to sexy up those old childhood stand-bys. With that in mind, I will now share with you my favorite recipe for macaroni and cheese:

Bay Leaf and White Cheddar Mac n' Cheese

A few preliminary notes: this recipe calls for making a "roux". Do not be intimidated. A roux is only bubbly butter and flour with some milk in it. Also, this recipe can be changed to accommodate any cheese/herb combination you desire. As long as the cheese melts and the herb is fresh, you are good to go. Lastly, feel free to freeze this recipe in it's pre-bake form for as much as a month, well wrapped. Some cold night you will be very happy to know that you have delicious mac and cheese waiting for you to pop in the oven.

1 lb. small pasta (anything with good nooks)

3/4 - 1 1/2 lb.s sharp white cheddar cheese, grated*

3 tb. butter

2 tb. flour

2 fresh bay leaves or 1 dried

a few sprigs thyme

3-4 cups whole milk

Sea salt

Pepper

1/8 tsp. nutmeg

A few slices whole wheat bread, crusts removed.

Take out the bread and set it on the counter to dry. Cook the pasta in salted water for 1-2 minutes less than called for on the package.

Put the milk, herbs, nutmeg and a little pepper into a saucepan and heat until steaming, and a few bubbles have gathered at the edges. Remove from the heat and let steep. In a separate saucepan, melt the butter over medium heat, and sprinkle over with the flour (don't worry about lumps, you'll stir them out). Cook the roux, stirring often, until just starting to turn gold (5 minutes or so). While stirring, add the milk slowly. Add only as much milk as gives you the saucy consistency you are looking for. Reserve the rest in case the sauce thickens up on you after you add the cheese. Speaking of which, add most of the cheese and stir into the sauce. Taste the sauce. It probably needs a little salt and maybe a little more pepper. Does it have enough cheese? You can add more. 

Preheat the oven to 350. Mix the pasta with the cheese sauce, adding the pasta to the sauce and stopping when the pasta/sauce ratio pleases you. Pour into a baking dish. Pulse the bread in a food processor to make crumbs (or just go at it with a knife). Sprinkle the bread crumbs and any and all remaining cheese over the dish. Cover with foil and bake for 20 minutes, remove foil and bake for 10 minutes more, or until the bread crumbs are golden and toasted. Serve with a simple butter lettuce salad and be happy. You can also divide the pasta into 1 or 2 person serving sizes, and bake only what you desire, saving the rest for a rainy day.

*You could use a lot more cheese in this, or a little less. As always, taste as you go, and buy more cheese than you need. No one ever minded having a little cheddar around the house.

The Magical Animal

As is the case with almost everyone in my generation, and in the generation following mine (if you consider Gen X and Gen Y to be two separate entities), I have a favorite quote from The Simpsons. Mine's not a quote, exactly, but a passage. A wise and important passage that speaks to the truths of the universe in a way that only a yellow dude with a serious overbite can.

It's in the Lisa-Goes-Vegetarian episode. Lisa is trying to explain that she's not going to eat meat to Homer. Homer asks, in essence, "You're going to go without bacon?! without pork chops?! without ham?!" To which Lisa replies, "Daa-ad, those all come from the same animal!" Homer stares at her incredulously, throws his hands into the air and says, "Yeah, right, Lisa. Some Maaagical Animal."

Mmmmmm, pork. Much has been written about pork's magical qualities. Bacon is almost universally the most tempting meat to vegetarians, "the gateway meat," as it is now commonly known. Pulled pork shoulder, along with pork ribs (not babyback, please) are some of the most discussed pieces of meat in the world. The subject of intense slow-cooking bar-b-que battles across the South, and the prime battleground of longstanding rivalries.

Pork is also frankly creepy. Pig skin is highly akin to human flesh, and a pigs jaw and bone structure are close enough to human that, in what *must* be a very scientific decision, they use a pig jaw whenever they do an experiment that would involve human teeth on Mythbusters. Pigs also have a reputation for intelligence, more than dogs, supposedly. Oh, and pigs sweat, like we do. Given all this, and the fact that pigs are omnivores, one has to wonder if eating pigs isn't just a little bit like being a cannibal. Could it be that we also taste that good? If so, I don't wanna know.

I'm going to shake off that last thought (brrrr!) and declare, you lucky person, that Now Is The Time For Pork! There are three reasons for this happy thought:

1) Pigs are omnivores, and they eat things we refuse to. (There's a very successful pig farm near the Las Vegas strip that feeds its pigs only hotel leftovers) Pigs need much less acreage than cows. They are a wonderful way to process human wastes into useful, nutritious, tasty tasty meat.
2) Figs

It's fig time, and figs love pork. Pork loves figs. Figs are a deep, complex fruit that bring out the natural sweetness in pork without competing with or masking its rich, meaty qualities. But figs have flaws. They kinda look like nut-sacks, for one, and they can be a little much, on their own. A little too mushy, a little too monochromaticly flavored, and too large for one bite. Pork solves all these problems. The salt and chew of pork distracts your mouth from the mush of the fig, and brings out the nuance in their flavor. Add a little red wine or some nuts (not that kind) and you're golden.

So, without further ado, I present Pork and Figs, a marriage made in heaven. Or in the mind of Homer Simpson, you choose.

Bacon Wrapped Figs with Walnuts or Pecans.

This is one of the easiest fancy-ass party appetizers you can make. If you are having cocktails, and you want to impress a certain appetizing guest, offer him/her one of these fig-bites and you'll, at the very least, get a quick preview of their o-face.

Start with a pint or two of figs, depending on your number of guests. Cut all of the figs in half, if they are small, or in quarters if they are large. Then open a package of bacon. Cut about a dozen slices in half, crosswise, so you have two shorter lengths. Your prep-work is done.

To assemble your little fig-bacon wraps, simply wrap a piece of fig and a walnut or pecan half in a half-strip of bacon, and place, seam side down, on a baking sheet. Repeat until all of your figs are wrapped. Turn the oven on to 375-400. About 15 minutes before you want to offer your guests bacon ecstasy, put the baking sheet in the oven. Cook until the bacon is crispy, take out of the oven and remove to a platter with something green on it (for the pretty). Make sure to warn your guests/loved ones that the wraps are hot, because they may pounce before the figs have had a chance to become slightly less than molten.


Fig and Goat Cheese Stuffed Pork Chops with Red Wine Sauce.

There are four main ingredients for this recipe: pork chops, dried mission figs, red wine, and goat cheese, and they are all listed in the title. Start with the red wine and figs. Very roughly chop about a cup of dried figs, leaving two or three whole ones. Put the figs in a pot with enough red wine to cover by at least an inch. Put the pot over medium high heat, and while the figs come to a simmer look around your kitchen for anything else that will make them tasty. Some chopped thyme/dried thyme. A shallot, cut in half. Perhaps a quarter of an onion or a few crushed garlic cloves. (put in either the shallot, the onion or the garlic, not all three). Maybe a bit of parsley. A cup of chicken stock. Definitely toss in a few peppercorns and a little salt.

Simmer the fig concoction until the figs are soft and tasty looking, if they look like they are running out of liquid before they are soft, add more wine or chicken stock, or even water. You want to end up with a lot of plump fig parts in a thick, syrupy liquid that almost, but doesn't cover the figs. Set them aside to cool.

Cut a pocket in four pork chops. To do this, poke a paring knife in the fat-covered side of the chop and sweep its tip through the chop, creating a big pocket with a small hole. Open your package of goat cheese, mix it with a little chopped thyme if you want, or don't.

Stuff the pocket of each chop with alternating bits of goat cheese and figs (leave the fig liquid behind). You'll use about half the figs. This will be a messy operation. Don't worry about it. Just wipe off the chops when you're done. Salt and pepper the outside of the chops and let them rest for a minute.

Meanwhile heat the oven to 375. In a large, oven-safe saute pan, heat a little oil on high. When the oil is about to smoke, put all of the chops into it. Brown the chops thoroughly (don't move them around very much) on one side, flip over and finish cooking in the oven (about 10 minutes). Remove from oven and serve, perhaps with some mashed potatoes or celery root, drizzling the remaining figs and red wine over everything.