Time Crunch(ies)

I joined The Daring Bakers with the hope of its stretching me to learn skills I otherwise would not have acquired baking my standard cookies, bread, or cupcakes. September’s challenge feature, lavish crackers found me stretching, ha ha, as I stretched myself. Crackers made from a simple bread and yeast dough did not at first intimidate me. Working with both sourdough and yeast dough I felt had given me enough experience to determine when the dough has been kneaded enough, the first rise has been long enough, when the dough has been shaped enough after the first rise, well, the picture is yours for the getting.

Oh but this challenge mocked me, got the best of me as I attacked the dough time and time again with a rolling pin only to have it shrink, shrink again, and, therefore, my crispy lavish crackers were more crunchy (and caramelized) on the outside where the dough rolled thinner, and somewhat soft in spots on the inside. Frustrated by the dough's shrinkage, I pooped out midway through rolling, not allowing for the bubbly and thin cracker which was the point of my challege. Nevertheless, with their sea salt and cracked pepper topping, my crunchy crakers were delicious, and to make sure they were delicious, I kept eating the crackers. Oh just a nibble off this one and this jagged cracker needs some evening along the edges. Seems as the savory challenges are going to doom my waistline more than the cream-filled, butter-laced goodies Shane was hoping for this month.

As I rolled the lavish dough and gained Ah-nold worthy muscles, it was my slight disappointment of having made "crunches" instead of "crisps" that fueled a desire to re-do this challenge and practice my rolling pin skills. To my chagrin, I plain ran out of time to challenge myself again this month. Perhaps I'll try this recipe again, or perhaps I'll stick to buying the $1.00 lavish bead at our favorite middle eastern grocery, crisp those to a beautiful pale brown, and leave the cracker muscles to those who dare to wear a Speedo.

Ahh, see, "caramelized" on one side, just slightly dark on the other.

On a positive spin, this challenge was very friendly to the budget as I had everything on hand to make the crackers, from equipment to ingredients.

One important note about our challenge, we were to pair our crackers with a vegan and gluten-free dip. Since vegan and gluten-free cooking entails neither cow-milking nor wheat-picking, it was a snap (ha, ha, crunchy cracker, snap, get it?) to assemble Shane's favorite summertime, quick and easy evening meal that I normally serve as bruschetta but here turned into a dip, lavish cracker-style. And might I add, both the "crunchies" and the dip paired nicely with the last of the red wine we had opened the previous evening.

Fresh Shell Beans Mashed with Garlic and Herbs
2 make-a-meal-out-of-it servings or serves 4 to 6 as an appetizer

2 cups fresh shell beans, cooked and drained
2 garlic cloves, squashed with a knife and then chopped
2 tablespoons hazelnut or olive oil, plus more to serve
Salt and pepper to taste
Handful fresh basil or tarragon, chopped
Fresh tomatoes, sliced, to serve

Combine beans, garlic and oil in a medium bowl. With a potato masher or with a fork, lightly mash mixture into a rough paste. Make it as smooth or chunky as you'd like. Season with salt and pepper, and mix in the fresh herbs. Drizzle with more hazelnut or olive oil before serving. Pair with lavish crisps and slices of tomatoes as a light meal or an appetizer. If you want to ignore the vegan rule and slip in a chunk of cheese on the side, well I'm looking the other way because I never suggested this. . .

Oh Yum

Fortunately I am not Rachael Ray, and do not ever embarrass myself by using the phrase "YUM-O!". However, if I were to sip a glass or two of Pinot Gris with the following meal, only to forget my prideful promise, perhaps I would slip and utter an enthusiastic "YUM-O" followed by an even more humiliating "TASTIC!" about the simple seafood salad I tossed together for my Friday afternoon lunch.


Mixed Seafood Salad
For two entree servings or four side servings:

3/4 pound mixed seafood (mussels, clams, calamari rings, shrimp, scallops, etc.*
1 fat garlic clove, squished and chopped finely
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1/4 small, sweet onion or 1 shallot, minced
1 large red bell pepper, minced
1 fat stalk of celery (or 2 skinny stalks), finely chopped
Few celery leaves, chopped
1 1/2 small lemons, juiced
Dash of hot sauce (optional)
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

*I feel fortunate that not only does our favorite fish monger carry all natural mussels on the half shell in their freezer section, Trader Joe's has a one pound bag of mixed shrimp, baby scallops, and calamari rings (preservative-free) in their freezer section. Wahoo! All I have to do is sauté or simmer the goods, thawing optional. Go with what you find in your local grocery store or fish monger if you're fortunate to have one nearby.

Scrub and de-beard clams and mussels as needed before continuing.

Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil a large skillet or pot with a lid over medium heat. Add garlic and sauté for one minute stirring constantly. Add mussels and clams to the skillet. Cover, and let their juices accumulate adding a touch of white wine or water if necessary. Steam until clams and mussels open, 5-10 minutes, removing each one as they open. (Yes this will require the daunting task of standing over the skillet and raising the lid up and down up and down. You can handle it.) Discard any clams or mussels that don't open after this period of time and keep the juices in the pot. Let clams and mussels cool a touch, remove from shells, and chop. Set aside.

Add shrimp, calamari, and scallops to the juices, cover, and bring to a simmer. If juices are low, add a splash more of wine or water. Simmer until seafood is just cooked through, which shouldn't be more than a few minutes (depending on the size of your seafood and if it was frozen first). Figure about a maximum of 5 minutes, but if the shrimp is not yet opaque after that time, give it a touch longer. Just don't overcook as you'll wind up with a tough salad. Once the remainder of the seafood is cooked, remove from heat, drain the juices, and let the seafood cool slightly.

If you happen to have some already-prepared seafood hanging around, skip my painstakingly written paragraphs above and just move on to the next part.

In a medium bowl, combine chopped onion, red pepper, celery, and celery leaves. Add the seafood, and squeeze the juice of the lemons over the mixture. Drizzle the remaining tablespoon of olive oil over the mixture, squeeze a dash or two of hot sauce if desired, salt and pepper to taste (watch the salt if you use the hot sauce), and toss everything together. Serve with crusty bread (and a crisp Pinot Gris) and a simple "WOW!".

The Loaf and the Pig

The bread and the ham, minus the mayonnaise and tomatoes -- or something like that. There certain kitchen items I keep handy that make my food preparation easier and all the tastier (much like that ham, tomato, and mayonnaise sandwich) while adding some fun and flare to my kitchen:

The Wooden Pig: I do not know exactly the story behind the wooden pig. In a handful of whimsical kitchen stores, I have seen a few cutting boards in the shape of a pig, however none had the marble eyeball. The birth of the wooden pig is credited to My Papaw Roop who would send us home with sacks of tomatoes from his garden and pears from his tree, and, apparently, the occasional wooden pig which we only knew to use as a cutting board. The wooden pig who still resides in my mom’s kitchen after umpteenth years has seen both ends of the meat mallet many times and has survived many a dull knife wound from the steak knives that could not cut Jell-O. I do believe my sister’s wooden pig is more back board than cutting board as it cozies right in with her kitchen’s folk-farm theme, however this may be an inaccurate statement and I welcome any correction to set the record straight.

The pig I rescued was amongst never-used tablecloths and pieces of 37 year-old avocado green dinner wear that will never breathe until the day they are packed, moved across town, unpacked, and again nestled in the bottom of the hutch. And so to not put a harmless wooden creature through the same treatment, I brought one home from on my last visit to Oklahoma and now he is my bread and cheese board, proudly serving my guests. Williams Sonoma, there is no need to tempt me with $60 cheese boards. Papaw Roop has outfitted my Gorgonzola and walnut bread beautifully.

Big Yellow: For years I had KitchenAid Stand Mixer envy -- pretty colors, from pink to sky blue to a green so apple-like, I can smell the tartness. The respectable white Artesian KitchenAid Stand Mixer sitting on my mom’s cabinet was christened by me, and since acquiring my own, I don’t know if it’s been used since. When mom offered to give me a brand new Artesian mixer as a wedding present, after enthusiastically agreeing that she should, the only request that I had was for her to surprise me with the color. And thus Big Yellow entered my life. Admittedly, it was an early wedding present, equipped and ready for me to make my three wedding cakes for the reception. Upon moving to Chicago, Big Yellow settled onto its own little stand (sold as a bar stool, bought for a clever plant stand, now the permanent home for Big Yellow), and has seen several batches of chocolate chip cookies, countless cupcake experiments, and, most recently, is my new “hand” at kneading bread dough. I am one who used to pride herself on kneading bread dough by hand, Big Yellow has happily taken over the hard work and kneads while I clean the kitchen and prepare other ingredients.

The Handy, Dandy T-Shirt: Here is where I show a vulnerable and, um, obsessive side of myself. Now I know newly married people have to adjust to each other and sometimes in pretty important areas: politics, religion, how money is spent, and fabric softener usage. I dare say that Shane and I are on the same chapter, same page, and mostly on the same sentence about all things politics, religion, and money. However, when it comes to fabric softener usage, Shane has his nose in a non-fiction, life-enhancing short on words but long on structure book, while I’m pouring through my favorite F. Scott jazz tale. I do not like fabric softener of any kind. Not only does it make my arms break out into little annoying bumps, but it makes my tea towels reek of Bounce which rubs off onto my freshly baked bread when it's wrapped it in those towels.

A quick aside -- I wrap my bread in towels as the inside in still cooling, when it's too soon to place the loaf in a plastic bag as the sealed plastic will create steam and make the bread soggy. The towel protects the bread from drying out, and the insides cool completely rendering a perfectly chewy, non-soggy loaf when I am ready to slice and serve it. And when a tea towel has been washed and dried with any kind of scent, the towel so kindly brings the scent into the kitchen and shares it with the bread.

But why is the t-shirt unscented and not the tea towel? Shane and I share laundry duty and when he does his share (which is mainly the bathroom towels, kitchen towels, and manly unmentionables) he makes it a strong and fragrant point to throw in a sheet or two or eight of Bounce. Though I am now in the habit of throwing a sheet or two myself when I have laundry duty (polo shirts, khaki pants, dark socks, and womanly unmentionables), I dare say oftentimes when I dry a load of clothes that mainly belong to me I conveniently forget the dryer sheet and thus have spared a few t-shirts from its fabric softener demise. An unscented (clean) t-shirt makes a perfect substitute for a tea towel.

Iron Man: My almost 10 year-old cast iron skillet is fine wine, strong cheese, and nicely aged beef rolled into one sturdy package complete with a handle. From crusty bread to seared steaks and morning bacon, in my kitchen, this is the heart of my cooking. If I had bulging arms just ready to lift extra weights, the temptation to replace all my cookware with cast iron would be irresistible. Plywood cabinets and the thought of having to season every pot and pan easily chases away that fantasy, and instead I lavish all my attention onto my one cast iron pot, and lovingly keep it seasoned with an oil bath and a salt scrub. Never wash your cast iron skillet with soap, water, and/or any kind of abrasive as you will take off the seasoning that you’ve worked so hard to age. If food becomes stuck to the skillet, pour in some oil, plop on some lard or Crisco, or use a scoop of that bacon fat you’ve been saving in the Folgers can behind the stove. Sprinkle coarse salt over the fat and scrub the skillet with a soft cloth that you do not mind dirtying with skillet crud, perhaps an old undershirt that has seen better days, but good luck with the whole Bounce smell if that is too a sensitive issue in your household.

With the arrival of my sister-in-law for an all-too-short visit, I have plans for each one of my necessities. Into the mixing bowl will go ingredients for my rosemary raisin bread. And yes, as the rosemary raisin bread cools, it will don one of my t-shirts. Lacking the rest of its workout attire, the loaf will happily serve as an appetizer, thinly sliced and served amongst various chunks of strong cheese with a glass or two of vino on the side. This will tide my guests' appetites as I sear our pork chop dinner in the trusty Iron Man before scraping the bits I hope will slightly cling to the skillet and flavor my creamy port wine gravy.

I think it will be a good weekend.

Secret's in the Sauce

*Disclaimer - I'm borrowing pictures from other posts because I finally want to talk hamburgers since Shane and I have been eating enough of them over the summer.

Growing up, barbecue sauce was good for only two things: basting hamburger meat pre-grilling and smothering pork chops (thank you mom!), the only way I'd "survive" pork chop and fried potato night.

On my own, and adult-enough to have my own tastes (notice I didn't mention the phrase "sophisticated enough"), bottled barbecue sauce never made its way into my refrigerator, much less onto my plate. In the rare instances I craved barbecue beef (I once planned my birthday meal around barbecue sandwiches), I experimented with making my own sauce: light on the sweetness and heavy on the tang.

However, the distinct flavor of smoke was missing, be it hickory, apple wood, or mesquite, and my sauces always lacked depth. Short of throwing pieces of wood into my sauce, and I'm not a big fan of liquid smoke (liquid gasses just do not make sense to me), I settled on using a slab of streaky bacon, smoked in a local deli. The meaty bacon rendered a silky texture, and sure enough, the smoke of the bacon paid its visit.

Smokey and Tangy Barbecue Sauce
Adapted from Bon Appétit July 2003

3 oz of slab bacon, preferably an end with loads of fat, chopped into 1-in cubes
Olive oil (optional)
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 jalapeno, chopped, seeds removed if less heat is desired
1 cup red wine vinegar
2 cups ketchup
1/2 cup mild-flavored (light) molasses
1/4 cup water
1/2 cup Bourbon Whiskey
Salt and Pepper to taste

In a heavy-bottomed, large saucepan over medium heat, fry bacon slabs until a tablespoon or two of fat is rendered. If there is not enough fat, add a bit of olive oil to total two tablespoons of oil/fat. Add onion and jalapeno, and sauté until golden brown, about 6 minutes. Carefully add vinegar, step back from the fumes, and boil until mixture is reduced to 3/4 cup, about 5 minutes. Remove from heat. Add ketchup, molasses, and 1/4 cup water, then whiskey; stir to blend. Bring sauce to simmer. Salt and pepper to taste. Let sauce simmer for 20 minutes, covering pot after 10 minutes.

I cannot talk about barbecue sauce without paying homage to Shane. The first time I made burgers for us, in the cast iron skillet, he is the one who suggested mixing barbecue sauce into the ground beef mixture, because, well, that's what he's always done. I must say, Shane does it again. Combining a few tablespoons of barbecue sauce with the meat brings out a smoky flavor that does not make me at all envious of grill-owning folks. My cast iron skillet sears a mighty nice burger, heavy on the juices.

Smokey Shane Burgers
For 2 servings:

12 ounces ground chuck (nothing too lean)
1 medium shallot or 1/2 a small onion plus one clove garlic, minced
2-3 tablespoons of Smokey and Tangy Barbecue Sauce
Salt and Pepper

With your hands, combine meat, shallots (or onion/garlic mixture) and barbecue sauce. Salt and pepper mixture and form into two patties, roughly 1/2 inch thick. Heat a dry cast iron skillet over medium heat for a few minutes. Sear burgers until they are done to your liking (for me, it's pink in the middle or nothing). If you fancy, alternatively, fire-up the charcoals and do it your [alternative] way.

Dragon Breath

When I come inside from a foggy, misty, London-esque evening, with wet socks and damp hair, there is nothing I want more than dry argyle knee-high socks and a cup of hot broth, steeped with garlic and brightened with Chile pepper. Mmmm... garlic soup.

Warning, this soup will cause any first kiss to go awry. It it not advisable to eat a bowl of garlic soup before a first date or before a CPR class. Please slurp with caution.

People, consider yourself warned. Garlic soup is delicious, and sometimes nothing will satisfiy like a pungent bowl sporting steam curls. Now I'm satisfied that a summons will not appear amongst the circulars, credit card approvals, and preppy clothing catalogs. For those adventurous to dare, or for those who have been married long enough, good things await.

Rich chicken stock, preferably homemade, and fresh garlic are the essential ingredients for Garlic Soup. Spices are added according to the hands that dump them into the soup, and Chile pepper aficionados will appreciate that more spice does not mask the pungent garlic taste. Best eaten after coming in from a cold rain or blowing snow, I have been known to serve garlic soup in the middle of summer to chase away one of my pesky summer colds.

Garlic Soup (Sopa de ajo)
Serves 4

8 fat cloves garlic, peeled and left whole
Olive oil
1 tablespoon sweet paprika
1/4 teaspoon cayenne or chipotle pepper, more or less to taste
1/2 teaspoon cumin
Pinch of saffron
6 cups rich, flavorful chicken broth, preferably home made
Salt
Poached eggs, toasted country bread, Parmigiano-Reggiano to serve

In a heavy-bottomed, medium soup pot, dump in enough olive oil to coat the bottom of the pan and come up about 1/4 an inch. Gently heat olive oil over medium heat. Fry garlic cloves in oil, watching carefully that they brown and not blacken. Remove each clove as they brown on both sides. Set garlic aside and turn off heat.

From here you can either keep the oil in the pot to create a richer soup, or what I like to do is pour all but about a tablespoon into a heat-proof bowl or container. The garlic infuses the olive oil and creates a delightful base for vinaigrette, dips, etc. I just let it cool, cover, and refrigerate. Try it on potatoes with a touch of red wine vinegar.

Now that the pot of oil is removed from the stove, and regardless what you did with the olive oil, add the paprika, Chile pepper, cumin, and saffron to the still-hot oil. Stir the spices into the oil, avoiding getting any aromas up your nose or in your mouth. Place pot back on medium-heat, and add the chicken stock. Squash each garlic clove with a fork until they're broken down and a tad mushy. Scrape garlic into chicken broth, bring to a boil, lower heat, and cover. Simmer soup 15 minutes.

There are several ways to serve the soup, besides enjoying the garlic broth on its own or next to a roast beef sandwich. To make more of a meal out of a bowl of garlic soup, I enjoy poaching an egg or two (per serving) directly into the soup. If this proves too cumbersome for 4 people, poach the eggs separately. Poached eggs don't make or break the soup, but I love the heft it adds and the fact it turns a simple soup into a full meal. A little Parmigiano-Reggiano grated into the soup is nice as well. Even if you skip either of these steps, crusty bread, a touch buttered and toasted, is a worthy accompaniment.

I FAGIOLI!

How can I call myself "the bean" (i fagioli) if I do not write about my love affair with the humble bean. Humble we are, humble, hearty, and, well cheap. Okay, why did I associate myself with such seemingly negative connotations (with the exception of humbleness) such as the ones beans possess? Yes, beans are cheap and hearty, but they're also reliable, helpful fillers, and very humble. I feel as if I'm updating my resume to include all my "bean strengths." If you are a bean, and if you are reading this post, and you need help writing a resume (perhaps you want to try your hand in the administrative world or in the field of medicine), please, call me.

But why a bean? Why do I compare myself to a bean when there are so many glamorous vegetables from which to choose? A shapely butternut squash or I've heard a leek referred to as sexy once or twice in my life. But a bean? How about a has-bean? As in, I am the girl who has bean "[a] once single woman, hard-core vegetarian, fair-trade enthusiast, at all times a cook, I've shed my yawp for a far simpler song: cook simply, cook for two."

The Has-Bean. Such as the beautiful and sometimes rare beans I feel blessed to find at the farmer's market. I do not mind shelling and discarding their rough skins; smooth and rosy cores are my reward.

And oddly enough, when I place the shelled beans in a pot, each bean with its own pattern, after being combined with bacon and a mirepoix of carrots, celery and onions (and a touch of garlic) or simmered with chicken broth and fresh rosemary, each rosy pattern melts into the pot and each bean has the revelation that it no different than the rest.

Has bean. Am bean. Will bean. And I don't mind one bit.

Fresh Cranberry Bean and Rosemary Stew
Serves 4

4 cups shelled beans , rinsed
8 oz slab bacon, diced (you can skip this, but it really gives the stew a rich flavor and texture.)
Olive oil to sauté and for serving, if desired
3 fat garlic cloves
3 to 4 cups chicken stock, home made preferable
2 sprigs of fresh rosemary
Salt and pepper to taste
Half of a crusty, somewhat stale baguette, cut into 4 or 5 slices

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Slice one garlic clove in half and rub the slices of bread with the cut haves of the garlic. Cut bread into cubes no bigger than 1/2 inch thick. Toss bread cubes with a few drizzles of olive oil and spread out onto a cookie sheet in a single row. Bake bread cubes for 15 to 20 minutes, or until they are brown and toasted, stirring after 8 or so minutes. Remove from oven and set bread aside.

Meanwhile, In a large stockpot, if using bacon, fizzle the cubes in their own fat, adding olive oil if fat does not produce at least 3 tablespoons oil (eyeball it). Sauté shallots in fat until they are soft and just turning brown without burning them. Stir them quite frequently. Mince the remaining two garlic cloves and add to the pot. Saute for one minute before adding the beans, chicken broth, and rosemary. If chicken broth does not cover the beans by an inch or so, add a bit of water to the pot. Bring mixture to a boil, lower heat, cover the pot, and simmer for 15 minutes. Test a bean. If the skin is curling and the texture is soft but not mushy, turn off heat. If the bean still feels a touch too firm, continue simmering, checking the beans every 5 minutes or so. Don't let the beans go to mush, as you want some texture to the soup. Once the beans are done, remove pot from the heat, carefully pluck out the rosemary sprigs (leaves will have fallen off, that's good, you want that) and salt and pepper beans to taste.

With the back of a wooden spoon or with a potato masher, roughly mash about half the beans. This thickens the stew and gives it a great, hearty texture. If stew is too thick, add a touch of water to the pot, and reheat the beans a touch, constantly stirring in the extra water. If stew is too thin, simmer the beans for a few minutes on the stove until it thickens to your desire. Constantly stir the stew so the squished beans do not scorch on the bottom of the pot

Ladle stew into bowls, and top with toasted bread cubes and a drizzle of olive oil, if desired.

Ciao Summer

And chow summer. Chow moltissimo. I am sorry to say adieu to melons so ripe I need a straw to enjoy the juices and a salty dusting only enhanced their sweetness; Goodbye burgers dripping their own juices into a puddle that mingles with fingerling potatoes, sharp garlic, and briny olives; and farewell to those fingerling potatoes whose buttery innards barely needed the splash of olive oil and tang of red wine vinegar.

Blueberries I enjoyed your lush plumpness and the way you mingled nicely with lavender infused sugar. A drizzle of whole milk yogurt sent me into fresh berry orbit.

A somewhat warm and breezy hello to fresh figs, their peak is now, and enjoy them while they last as I will, roasted, with ripe, aged cheeses; raw and ripe to the point of exploding paired with dark, dark chocolate; gobbled shamelessly, their sticky path is my surrender.

Cherokee Purples turn into Keepsakes as tomato tarts turn into apple galettes swiped with cream. Cool replaces warm; cinnamon replaces basil, and with a sinking feeling, I eyeball those fuzzy knee-high snow boots I placed into the far corner of Shane's closet.

It's a long way off so I tuck my bare feet into slinky high-heels.


Fingerling Potato Salad Serves 3 or 4

1 pound fingerling potatoes, left whole (Russian Banana and French are both wonderful varieties)
Salt
3 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
1/4 cup chopped oil-cured olives
2 Tablespoons olive oil
1 Tablespoon red wine vinegar
Freshly ground pepper
Fresh thyme or parsley, optional

Steam or boil potatoes until a fork easily pierces their flesh. Drain potatoes and leaving them in the pan, salt them generously. Shake the potatoes around in the pan to distribute the salt evenly. Set aside for about 30 minutes to cool.

Toss potatoes with the garlic, olives, olive oil, red wine vinegar, and a few grindings of pepper. Sprinkle over with thyme or parsley if desired.


Roasted Figs
1 pint ripe figs, any variety
Olive oil
Sprinkle of sugar (optional)

Heat oven to 400 degrees. Halve figs and arrange on cookie sheet. Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with sugar if you desire. Pop into the oven and turn heat off. Let figs roast in the oven without opening the oven door, 3 or so hours (or overnight, but just remember you have something in the oven before turning the oven on!) until the figs are plump and a touch wrinkled. Serve with a variety of strong cheeses, red wine, and good bread. Instant friends.

Those Po' Po' Boys

Drippy, tangy, hot, and that's just the end of August - an August that enticed the simple yet messy sandwich to be eaten outdoors and over clothes that do not require dry cleaning.

A French-style bread stuffed with spicy cole slaw and garlic sautéed shrimp was my picnic food of choice for a lunch date with Shane. He enviously watched. I gloated and promised I'd make him one soon at home. The bread I used was a bit dry, better to absorb the slaw's dressing without becoming soggy and greasy, and perfect to withstand the wait between morning commute and lunchtime.

I believe, with humbleness mustered, I have found the perfect solution for the leftover backyard barbecue nuisance. However, my way is not the proverbial freeway. Fill the baguette with whatever is pleasing: leftover turkey and gravy; sliced rare steak with its au jus and roasted peppers and onions; leftover mayonnaise-based slaw and sauteed shellfish (shrimp, mussels, clams). You could say traditionally po' boys are stuffed with fried fish (or shellfish) and lettuce/cabbage with plenty of mayonnaise, but what has not been tweaked will eventually, so let your imagination run.

My base cole slaw recipe is adapted from my mom's original recipe and the one I grew up eating next to cornmeal dusted fried fish (lake-caught courtesy of my dad), Crisco-fried potatoes, and the occasional hush puppy, deep-fat-fried with care. Ice cold Tetley tea touched with sweetener washed down the bliss.

Spicy, Tangy, Creamy Cole Slaw (Adapted from mom's)
Serves 8 and somehow multiplies to serve more the longer leftovers are kept in the fridge. It has powers of Biblical proportions, I tell ya.

3 cups cabbage, shredded (don't buy pre-shredded, just do it yourself)
1 cup grated carrots
1-2 jalapenos, shredded (don't touch your eyes for the rest of the evening)
Handful of fresh cilantro, chopped
1/3 cup mayonnaise
3 tablespoons buttermilk (regular milk is okay too)
1 tablespoon cider vinegar
2 teaspoons sugar
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

Combine cabbage, carrots, jalapeno, and cilantro in a large bowl. In a jar with a tight lid, combine mayonnaise, buttermilk, vinegar, and sugar. Shake until the sugar dissolves, toss with cabbage mixture, and salt and pepper to taste.

Cole slaw is most awesome with a fish fry with all the fixin's, stuffed into po' boys. However, I cannot mention cole slaw without mentioning Shane's favorite summertime taco: two soft corn tortillas briefly heated on a cast iron skillet and topped with spicy cole slaw , sautéed shrimp and garlic. Yes, I did take a picture of my already-bitten and soon-to-be ravenously devoured taco. Summertime won't wait, and neither could I.