It stands to reason that more than a few people are all a’gloat over the now-confirmed news that Paula Deen has Type Two diabetes, because significantly more than a few people are outright assholes. Deen won’t say ‘fuck the haters’ – not out loud, for sure – so you may consider that I, a fellow Type Two diabetic, just said it for her.

(This news does put the launch of her son Bobby’s show, Not My Mama’s Meals, in a bit of context that was missing before. Hey, it’s a business, ya’ll.)

As for butter, which I consider my close personal friend: To borrow a riff from Mitt Romney, margarine is the biggest fraud since Bigfoot. I expect Paula to continue folding the real deal into her recipes – with some moderation, to be sure – because a life of deprivation is hardly worth the trouble.

Seems I’ve gotten into the habit lately of staring bleakly at some pantry item and asking it – yes, aloud – What the hell am I to do with you? I never receive a reply – because food doesn’t talk, silly – so I often turn to my younger, smarter symbiote called the intarwebz for dinner guidance. A couple of days ago, the food item was a pound of fingering potatoes; the answer, courtesy of FineCooking.com, was ‘Fingerling Potato Galettes with Chive Crème Fraîche and Smoked Trout.’ Yeah, I thought, let’s get on that… with some exceptions which I will now proceed to relate.

First, about the crème fraîche: no, not happening. I’ve used it in recipes before and I’m just not a fan. Whatever it does for many other people, it never did for me. It always tasted like a pale (heh, funny because it’s true) wannabe to its country cousin, sour cream. So this time around, sour cream was in fact what I used.

Second, the doneness of the potatoes. As intended, this dish was to be a crispy experience, but if recursiveLoop wants crisp in his spuds, he’ll buy a bag of Lay’s. I baked the potatoes to suit – definitely done, but not breakable – and called it a success.

Third, the terminology. The title of the recipe calls this dish a ‘galette,’ to which I must respond: No, it is not. No, ma’am; no, sir. A galette is a kind of cake, or pie, or tart. It doesn’t matter whether it’s sweet or savory; it is, however, required to be more or less flat. This potato dish is also flat (indeed, the recipe instructs you to place a cookie sheet atop the potatoes to insure that they stay flat as they cook)…but my goodness, if flatness is all that is required to call something a galette, then we might as stick that label on the state of Kansas.

What’s that? You want to know how the dish actually tasted? Well, sure, fine. It was delicious. Also, it gave me an excuse to use the mandolin that M bought me. She loves it when I do that. If you lack a mandolin but have good knife skills (which I don’t), that’s fine too. The recipe serves four and is intended as an appetizer, but two people can make a satisfying meal out of it, which we cheerfully did.

As a big ol’ grown adult and moderately active home cook, I have rediscovered certain foods once reviled in my youth. Most of those once-hated foods have been vegetables, of course: okra, Brussels sprouts, various greens. Over the past couple of years, I have found and enjoyed hearty and savory recipes for collard greens. Much of the flavor in these preparations comes from the addition of some form of pork – ham hocks, salt pork, bacon. Fat equals flavor, dont’cha know, and pork has plenty of fat.

Some time ago, someone asked me if I’d ever run across a vegetarian approach to collards that would provide mouth-filling flavor to rival that of the meat-assisted dishes. I confessed to the inquirer that I never had seen such a recipe and had never tried to create one myself. That’s where the matter stood until late last year, when a friend asked me to consider contributing a vegetarian or vegan recipe to the upcoming second edition of Eating Lightly, a cookbook published by the Missouri Coalition for the Environment. I replied in the affirmative and thought immediately of collards.

Having framed my choice of approaches to the dish as either bright and acidic or earthy and savory, I opted for the latter and arrived at my submission: Vegan Collards with Porcini Mushrooms. It is rather tasty, if I say so myself. And that’s about all I can say; because the cookbook is a fundraiser for MCE, it would hardly do to post my recipe online. Instead, I encourage everyone to click over to the Eating Lightly order page and spend $20 (plus $3 for shipping) not just for my contribution (page 90, heh) or even for a great collection of vegetarian and vegan appetizers, soups, salads, breads, side dishes, entrees, and desserts, but for the opportunity to support a trusted advocate for the environment.

From the (Proof)reading is Fundamental Department: On reviewing my recipe in the published cookbook, I discovered to great horror that I had left an ingredient out. Oy. You will get to the sentence that begins ‘Add onion and shallots’ and exclaim “Zuh? Onion?” Yes, onion. One yellow onion, medium, diced. Sorry for the omission.

For the greater portion of my adult life, I have been something other than a dessert guy. The occasional candy bar or lemon drop, yeah, sure, but generally I leaned more toward the savory end of the taste spectrum. It could be that the year or so I spent working in a candy store – immediately after having dropped out of college – might have turned me off of the sweet stuff…but who can say for sure?

Regular readers will recall, however, than I’ve reconsidered my stance on desserts made at home. Unsurprisingly, embracing the inner sugar fiend on the domestic front has led to rediscovering my sweet tooth overall. Which brings us, happily, to this:

This is the limited edition Mayan Mocha cupcake, courtesy of The Cup (specifically, the flagship location in the Central West End neighborhood of St. Louis). It is a mocha-spiced revelation (a little cayenne, maybe?). Even the little tiki god fella is edible (pure sugar, from what I can tell). I tried to eat it slowly. I kinda failed.

The Mocha Mayan is available for just a couple more days, so, you know, you might wanna get on that.

Pi on the Spot: The truck from Pi Pizzeria doing business outside Pius XII Memorial Library on Lindell Boulevard. I got pepperoni. And ate it all (except for one piece given to a colleague for karma’s sake).

Heard it from The Kitchen who heard it from Framed who heard it from KT~Lynn at Food.com who…may or may not be the origin of this recipe, dunno for sure. All I know is that I tried it this past weekend, and it was the most fun dish I’ve made in a long time. So. Very. Cute.

No, they’re not really cupcakes. Think of them as mini-lasagnas. Like Mama used to make. If Mama had been a hip foodie. The secret is the stand-in for pasta: wonton wrappers.

I was content to cut them into rounds using a glass and a sharp knife, but M reminded me that we have perfectly useful cookie cutters. Note the crimpy edges. Like edible doilies!

I borrowed from Framed the following image of an idealized finished product. So lovely.

Apparently everyone puts an individual spin on the recipe; I used the version provided by Kate at Framed. Remember it’s a shot of Pam in each individual muffin cup, followed by a wonton wrapper, a layer of the three cheeses, a layer of browned ground beef, a layer of sauce, then repeat, then top with Parmesan and mozzarella. Pro tip: don’t be afraid to go a little light in the initial layers of cheese/meat.

So M gave me permission to purchase a new Weber grill. A big Weber grill. A Weber grill with propane-powered ignition for starting the charcoal.

I made my way at once to the nearest home store to make the buy. Naturally, the box did not fit in the car. I made do by opening the box right there in the parking lot and stuffing the vehicle with each and every part. Then I flagged down a nearby sales associate. “Recycle this, please,” I said cheerfully as I handed him the empty box.

The Weber Performer, before assembly:

And after:

Ta-dah!

The Performer has indeed performed for us. The summer has just been upgraded.

It’s been a long time indeed since I last made anything like macaroni and cheese. That was a tasty pasta recipe, to be sure, but it wasn’t really macaroni and cheese as originally created by a benevolent Providence. I’ve been musing on mac and cheese lately, and would like to try my hand at a good reliable standard for the dish. In order to prepare for that, however, I need to refresh my mac memory. Where to find a good sample of the stuff?

What’s that? There’s a restaurant in St. Louis (University City, actually, but close enough) that serves nothing but mac and cheese? Fifteen different kinds of mac and cheese? What, am I in New York or something?

Off, then, to Cheese-ology.

The place is short on atmosphere (kinda diner-ish), but long on friendly service and – oh, yes – mac and cheese. But first, in a nod to vegetables, a salad.

The Caesar-ness of the salad is in that packet on the side. There are shavings of fruity/nutty Parmigiano-Reggiano in with the romaine and croutons. I expected average. It was delicious. And I’m not a salad man, strictly speaking.

Enough of veggies, though. Here’s what we came for:

M’s dish, served up in a hot skillet¹: Black and Bleu mac and cheese. American and bleu cheese. And steak, with some Cajun spices. This is a small portion, $6.50 USD. She allowed me a bite; I loved the assertive flavor.

My dish, bigger skillet: Bacon, Bacon! Seriously, that’s what it’s called. Mozzarella and Gruyere (!) with, yes, thick cut bacon. As you know, bacon makes everything better. At first I thought the cheese combo was a bit too subtle – especially after having tasted M’s plate – but it was really good, and I had to force myself to eat only half of the $11 large serving and to take the rest home for later enjoyment. I found myself thinking about my mac and cheese for hours after we left the restaurant – hours! – and with the glow of satisfaction that comes only from the most comfortable of comfort foods.

The recursiveLoop rating for Cheese-ology is high. Yeah, this is St. Louis, and we don’t have a lot of cool things. But this restaurant is on that short list. You’d better get down there.

And…I’m ready to start thinking now about my own next homemade mac attack.