How to get sauced

My dad always made spaghetti. He handled a few things in the kitchen, aside from whatever was wrong with the plumbing under the sink, and it randomly included killer poached eggs, rice pudding and spaghetti. Full disclosure - we were a canned sauce kind of family, but his was extraordinarily thick and chunky, stacked with green pepper, onion, mushrooms and a lovely mixture of beef and Italian sausage. None of this turkey nonsense I usually make the husband eat.

Many of my friends take pride in the sauce they serve. My Italian sister-in-law sticks to a family recipe from generations past that is simple, delicious and likely to remain a secret (if they told you they'd have to kill you). One of my best friends slips a pork neck bone in her sauce and lets it simmer for hours. Though I'll admit I've tried those recipes made famous by well-known Italian chefs that bubble all day, my attention deficit disorder kicks in and I'm usually serving a watery, unsalted mess that may as well have come from a can.

Last night, I channeled my dad and gave it my best semi-homemade try. It took me no time at all and I'm proud to report, the husband went back for seconds. Below, my OWN recipe. Who knew?

"I think I CAN" MegPasz Spaghetti

2 8 oz. cans of any plain ol' organic tomato sauce (I use Muir Glen)
1 lb. extra lean ground sirloin
1 c. sliced mushrooms
3/4 c. diced onion
Approx. 2 cloves of garlic (if you love garlic, go crazy)
Fresh basil to taste
Fresh oregano to taste
Fresh ground pepper
Pinch of salt (if you need, but I didn't need it)
3/4 box of whole wheat pasta (I like it thin, so use angel hair or capellini)

Brown meat and drain. In separate pan, heat olive oil. Add onion and stir until translucent (about 1 or 2 minutes). Add garlic for another minute. Add mushrooms and cook until water is released (another 2 minutes). Next, add mixture to beef along with 2 cans of sauce. Add fresh herbs and pepper to taste and let simmer for about 15-20 minutes (or 5 if your husband is like mine and stares at you until you feed him). While simmering, boil noodles until al dente. Drain noodles, add sauce and serve.

On Tradition

In response to the wonderful readers who were kind enough to comment on my previous post regarding recipes to contribute to my new family's Easter gathering, I wanted to report back. In the end, I chose a lemon sugar cookie that seemed easy and was small enough so people had to eat the entire cookie, not half and then hand it back to me. That always leaves a girl in a bit of a funk.

At a small gathering the night before Easter, a few of us were chatting about holiday food and what was to be expected the next day. The husband's family is one of great tradition, particularly in the way of food. In other words, don't mess with Mama Pasz's kielbasa. They like what they like and years of tradition say they can. As I left that night, I gulped hard, and immediately wondered where the nearest Toledo bakery was located. Would my debut as a wife be forever remembered by my uneaten lemon cookies?

I arrived with the precious yellow cylinders in a well-thought-out, clear case (tupperware) and tried to sneak them into the mix on the main table. Beautiful, traditional, perfected food surrounded them from every angle but as I walked away, I swear one of them said to me "Meg, relax. We can hold our own. We may look boring due to your blatent laziness and refusal to package us pretty, we may be sitting next to the veteran creamy banana pudding, oozing with perfection, but we got this."

In the end, I'm not sure if the family sensed my insecurity and was just kind, or if I am officially capable of baking something people don't hand back to me. All I know is that from a room away, I heard, "These cookies should be tradition."

Sweet, sweet success.

A Man and His Witch

Truth be told, I haven't written much lately. Likely because I haven't cooked much lately. For some reason recently, I'm feelin' a little run-down, irritable and would rather scour the On Demand portion of our cable package and retreat to bed before it's completely dark outside. Could be the fact that Spring is a tease in Chicago and never really stays, could be that we haven't had a vacation in months, could be that I'm just a lazy, television-loving, witch of a wife who has neglected feeding her husband. Well, that all ended yesterday.

That's right, folks. The MANWICH. A can of red, velvety goodness enveloped our ground meat like a warm blanket. In the 3 1/2 minutes it took to cook, the husband's eyes spoke only one word. Desire.

He's never been happier. Mid meal, he just looked up at me with his red-stained mouth like a grateful little puppy.

Long live the witch.

A little help?

We're headed to Toledo for Easter this weekend. Now that I'm married, I now feel I need to actually act like a grown-up and contribute something instead of eating everything in sight and then laying on the couch watching Dora the Explorer with children while everyone cleans up after me.

Since my baking is a work in progress, I thought I'd ask readers for suggestions on something EASY, yet moderately sophisticated, to bring. In other words, don't send me recipes for your grandma's jello. Seriously.

Comments welcome.

In the Doghouse

I continued my weekly baking effort this weekend, with a recipe from Smitten Kitchen for oatmeal, chocolate chip, pecan cookies. The recipe seemed simple enough, but in true delusional fashion, I chose one with interesting added ingredients to over complicate it. The good news is that this recipe could be quite good, provided it's made by a skilled, controlled baker who isn't enamoured with her new zester and needs to attend Betty Ford for zesting.

Aside from your standard sugar, flour and eggs, the added ingredients were orange zest, clove, nutmeg and cinnamon. I know what you're thinking - FANCY. Or, gross. Or... fancy! I dedicated an entire Saturday night to the activity while the husband joined friends to watch basketball and drink 27 buckets of beer volunteer at a soup kitchen, and was so excited to have zesty (and I mean zesty), yummy treats for him the next morning.

The husband was too hungover busy with around-the-house jobs to assess the taste, so I brought them along to Sunday brunch with my girlfriend. I was so confident in my results that I even considered wrapping them up in beautiful bags tied with ribbon. Why not give this true GIFT the respectable presentation it deserves? In the end, I threw them in a Ziploc bag. Let's be honest.

I arrived to brunch bursting with excitement and could barely wait to order my Bloody Mary cup of tea before pulling the treats out of my bag. Not to my surprise, the gift was met with a "seriously?" look from my friend, who knows me well enough to be justified in her reaction.

Her: "What is that?"
Me: Clearly these are cookies
Her: Where did you find them?
Me: I MADE them
Her: Oh. (Appears frightened that I might ask her to eat one)
Me: Go ahead! Give 'er a try!

The clock ticks, seconds feel like hours, beads of sweat develop on my forehead.

She eats half of it and hands the remaining half to me. Like a child who hands his mother his regurgitated vegetables.

Her: These would be fantastic dog treats, sweetie. No offense, but perhaps your future is in pet foods?

Hours later, I arrived home with my head hung low and vowing to never bake again. The husband, fresh up from his hangover nap home from church, instantly brought me back to delusion with sweeter words than any baked good in the world.

Husband: Those cookies are AWESOME!

Too many buckets of beer can land a man in the doghouse. It's a good thing I left him treats there.