Why this blog?

"If you are careful," Garp wrote, "if you use good ingredients, and you don't take any shortcuts, then you can usually cook something very good. Sometimes it is the only worthwhile product you can salvage from a day; what you make to eat. With writing, I find, you can have all the right ingredients, give plenty of time and care, and still get nothing. Also true of love. Cooking, therefore, can keep a person who tries hard sane."
from John Irving's novel, The World According to Garp
Showing posts with label one-dish meals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label one-dish meals. Show all posts

Friday, January 21, 2011

Tuna Noodle Casserole

People who cannot abide the sight, smell or taste of canned tuna will find the very idea of this recipe appalling, and that's fine - I feel the same way about sushi.  But when it's cold and dark outside, and I'm tired and hungry, this is something that fills me up in every way.  Gorgeous Sister #1 has perfected something similar with canned white meat chicken, but you'd have to ask her about the seasonings for that one. 

I also learned something with my last post about the cookies - it's a helluva lot easier to use a standard recipe format.  So I'll try to split the difference, give a good ingredient list then ramble at will on how to put it together. 

Tuna Noodle Casserole

Ingredients:

1 lb bag of egg noodles or box of seashell pasta
1 large can of tuna or albacore, packed in water, drained
2 cans of cream of mushroom soup
Generous sprinklings (about a teaspoon):
      Minced onion
      Dried sage
      Garlic powder
      Dried parsley flakes
Dashes:
      Salt
      Black pepper
      Red pepper flakes
3 cups of shredded sharp cheddar cheese

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

Cook the noodles by the package directions - for me, 11 minutes in a full rolling boil gives me al dente noodles, perfect for this casserole.  While the pasta is cooking,  I mix together the tuna, the soup, and all the seasonings.  And yes, I know what that looks like.  And yes, I have smelled it.  To me, it smells good, I swear. 

Drain the cooked pasta thoroughly.  I drain it in the colandar (colender?  Hansel?  Haaaan-sel??!?) in the sink first, then pour it back into the hot pot to steam off the excess water.  Mix in the sludge-looking other stuff thoroughly until all the noodles are coated and there's tuna throughout. 

Spray a two-quart casserole dish with cooking spray or grease it with butter.  Spread half of the tuna noodle mixture in the dish, cover it completely with cheese.  Repeat with the other half. 

Bake at 375 degrees for fifteen minutes, until the cheese is completely melted and starting to brown in spots. All of the ingredients are basically cooked when it goes in; you're just melding flavors and melting cheese. Serve hot.  This makes about six generous servings.  Refrigerate any leftovers and reheat in the microwave with a sprinkle of water for 2-3 minutes. 

I have put a beaten egg in this before, but it didn't add anything much taste or texture-wise and made the casserole take longer to bake, so now I leave it out.  There are those who would insist you need something crunchy on top, like breadcrumbs or crumbled potato chips.  If you want that, feel free; just don't tell me about it.  <shudder>  Seriously, if you do put a topping on it, dot it with dabs of butter first so it doesn't burn or dry out and bake it as long as it takes to make the topping crunchy. 

This was one of the first things I ever cooked for my husband, and he loves it.  He also proved his priceless worth as a husband because of this dish.  One night we were both exhausted and starving, and I had dragged myself to the kitchen to make this while he was working on something else in the living room.  I went through the whole process, waited for it to bake, reached into the oven to take it out - and promptly dropped it in the middle of the kitchen floor.  Hot tuna noodles and cheese went EVERYWHERE, and I screamed a series of words no proper lady should know. 

He came running in, certain I had done myself some dread injury.  To his eternal credit, when he saw what had happened, he didn't laugh until AFTER he had hugged me and told me that 1)it smelled delicious and its loss was a tragedy, and 2)we were going to KFC to get a bucket of chicken.  Then he laughed his ass off.  Now it's become a tradition in our marriage; I make this, but he's the one who takes it out of the oven. 

Friday, January 14, 2011

Chicken Pie

I've been home a lot this week because we've had several inches of snow and ice, so I've been cooking a lot of comfort food.  (And eating a lot of chips, it must be said.)  Chicken pie is one of those dishes that you can make as simple and cheap or as fancy and complicated as you want - I kind of split the difference on this one.  I had the time to roast the chicken myself, but I didn't even try to make pastry - the Pillsbury dough boy makes better pie crust than me; I have come to accept this.  And by the way, any resemblance between a homemade chicken pie and those little frozen things called 'pot pies' is purely coincidental.  I have no objection to those; there are times when they feed an essential TV-dinner-loving morsel of my soul.  But they ain't chicken pie.

About mid-afternoon, I took a whole, 2-pound fryer out of the fridge, unwrapped it, washed it off, took the giblets and neck out of the body cavity (it has to be done, so hitch up your sweats and do it; the chicken can't care any more), rubbed down the skin with the end of half a stick (4 tablespoons) of butter, then put it in one of those oven browning bags with the rest of the half-stick of butter, a big yellow onion, cut up, and a generous sprinkling each of salt, pepper, and dried rubbed sage.  (Fresh sage would work, too, of course, but I wouldn't buy it special for this dish.)  I tied it all up in the bag as instructed on the package (shake a tablespoon of flour inside before the food goes in, cut six slits in the bag after it's tied up) and put it in a 350 degree oven for the next two hours until it was roasted through and golden brown.  I took it out of the oven, cut open the bag, and let it cool for another 45 minutes to an hour. 

I skinned the chicken and stripped the meat off the bones, then cut it into small bite-sized chunks and put it in a heavy soup pot with the strained drippings from the pan.  I added a can of cream of mushroom soup, a can of hot water, a half cup of packaged chicken broth, a bag of slightly defrosted frozen mixed vegetables (carrots, green beans, corn, peas - all of which you could add separately if you wanted, but again, why bother?), and four small boiling potatoes, peeled and diced to be about the same size as the carrots in the mix.  (If I'd had a mix that had potatoes in it, I would have used it, but since I didn't, I had to peel potatoes.)  You could use canned mixed vegetables, too, I suppose, but they'd end up squishier in the finished pie.  I cooked all of this down on medium-low heat until the liquid was reduced to about half and the potatoes were just soft - about thirty minutes.  Then I mixed two tablespoons of corn starch with two-thirds of a cup of hot water until the starch dissolved, then mixed it in to thicken the broth and give it a silky sheen. 

I sprayed a long, oval ceramic casserole dish with non-stick cooking spray - my mom always used a round, deep-dish casserole with a lid, and I would prefer that, too, but I don't have one. I took three of the pre-made Pillsbury pie crusts (the refrigerated kind, not the frozen) out of the fridge and softened them slightly per the package directions.  I lined the bottom of the casserole with one and a half, pressing the edge together tight, then poured the filling inside - I actually ended up with more filling than I needed, so I put the excess in a freezer-tight container and stuck it in the freezer.  I'll make one of those little pot pies later.  Then I put on a top crust made from the other one and a half pre-made crusts (no need to press the edges together on top; they'll bake together nicely), crimped it together all around the edge with a fork, trimmed the excess, cut a few slits in the top in a star pattern, and stuck it in the oven at 400 degrees.  The filling was already cooked, so it was just a matter of baking the crust through - 30 to 45 minutes, depending on your oven.  I let it cool for about ten minutes before I served it, just to let the juices settle and thicken. 

We ate it all on its own, but a green salad would go with it well.  It served six adults generously with enough for one person's lunch left over.