Comfort Foods and Indulgences

So we wanted to create something in the spirit of Mardi Gras for Cooking Channel’s Devour The Blog.

The result is something so delicious that I just had to point you in that direction. And since I just got back from Louisiana yesterday I might just have to make another batch. With beer. Plenty of beer.

And just for kicks, we also decided to make a quick video comprised of still images. Sumthin’ like 220 or so.

And there are focus issues. And the music doesn’t line up exactly. And it’s very DIY. But it’s fun! And Adam let me film his famous hands. Enjoy it and happy celebratin’!

I’m a firm believer in the adage that a tiny plot can feed a whole lot! Granddaddy’s tomatoes keep rolling in and BLT’s, pies, sauce, and simply sliced dishes of tomatoes are abounding on our tables.

Mimi, as is her custom, has toast and tea every morning for breakfast..... as her grandmother did. Sourdough buttered and toasted and glazed with a seasonal spread is de rigueur. Taking the tone from the toast in the iron skillet and the tomatoes on the windowsill (Mimi and Granddaddy always have tomatoes on their windowsills May through October), the cultures of Italy and Deep Down Dixie merge for a delicious starter, meal or snack that we’ve thoroughly enjoyed this summer. The addition of an over easy egg gives a huevos rancheros nod to the dish and a dose of protein too. ¡Olé!'!

As a fan of breakfast for supper, this dish is at home to kick off the day or cap the day or really anytime in between. Taking literally a few minutes to prepare, you’ll love the way the egg yolk nods along with the tomato and basil sing-a-long. The crusty sourdough toast soaks up all it can and give you an excuse to use your hands to scrape the last bit with the crust. Leave off the egg for a traditional bruschetta that is nothing shy of divine.

Lobster's back. First there was creamy lobster risotto for Father's Day. Now it's Lobster Fra Diavolo, a treasured Italian-American dish characterized by a spicy sauce for pasta or seafood.

Fra Diavolo, was the king of pasta in the 1990's. (I know this because it was Jeff's favorite entree to order at a "nice" restaurant when we were dating.)

The last time Jeff ate lobster fra diavolo, Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You" was a number one hit. Though Jeff will always love lobster fra diavolo, he doesn't feel similarly toward Whitney, so I decided not to invite her to our lobster dinner.

I played Sinatra, our oldest and most favorite crooner, instead because Italian food always tastes better with ol' blue eyes.

It happened like this… I was standing on the northeast corner of Broadway and whatever street waiting to cross.  I was running to shop or cook or finish some errand that must must must get done quickly so everything else can be done quickly so that I can get on to the next thing and then the next and then fall asleep so that more stuff can get done tomorrow. I was staring at a pick-up truck heading in my direction.  It was the only car on the road for that moment, the only thing halting my progress, and right before it got to me it suddenly made a turn WITHOUT ITS TURN SIGNAL ON.  I could have gone!  I was waiting for seconds for this fucking truck to pass when it wasn’t even passing!!!  My life is disappearing before my very eyes and this selfish asshat doesn’t even care.

The injustice. The indignity. The NERVE.

I made a sound in response, alone on that street corner, like a groan/ moan/ wail of agony so dramatic you would have thought my child was being ripped from my breast.

But then I stopped.  And I heard myself.  And I was ashamed. There is a possibility I’ve let this season get the best of me.