Comfort Foods and Indulgences

Dining out is one of the best favorite forms of culinary inspiration. Last weekend I went out for brunch at Eats on Clement Street and ordered the Waffle Bacon which was described as bacon pressed in a waffle, cheddar, Hungarian peppers and a sunny up egg. It was a wonderful combination of gooey, chewy and crisp and had many classic flavors associated with breakfast. It was definitely the sauteed peppers that tied the bacon, egg, cheese and waffle together and took the dish to the next level. I knew this was something I had to order again or better yet, try to duplicate at home.

Instead of using Hungarian peppers I took the easy route and used diced green chiles from a can. The result? Oh my. It was delicious! The truth is, a bacon waffle topped with chiles and cheese is actually quite good without the egg as well, though you can imagine how the yolk forms a lovely sauce for the bacon waffle. Sometimes more is better, and it's the excess of this recipe that makes it so satisfying. Who doesn't love bacon, cheddar or green chiles? They are my go to ingredients for making everything from eggs to soups or stews taste better.

I love Austin, Texas. The people are warm, the food is amazing, and the weather – well, let's not talk about the weather. Let's stick with the people and the food. One morning while Jeff and I were eating breakfast at an Austin eatery, we started chatting with a lovely elderly couple next to us. The conversation quickly turned to food: we talked brisket, chili, Shiner bock (which they drink from the bottle), and cornbread. When I told the wife that I had never made corn bread in a skillet, she replied, in a dramatic affected Southern accent, "Well, dahlin', if it ain't made in a cast-iron skillet, then it ain't cornbread."

She shared how her skillet had been in her family for three generations and how she wouldn't dream of making cornbread in a regular metal pan or glass baking dish. I would have loved to share a sentimental tale about my family's cast-iron skillet and corn bread recipe, but the truth is, we don't have one. Sure, my mom made cornbread, but it usually came from a Jiffy box, and I wasn't gonna tell that to the Texan with the third generation cast-iron skillet.

In the world of taquerias there are potato tacos (tacos de papa) and then there are potato tacos. And if you’ve never had one, it’s exactly what you think: tender chunks of potatoes are cooked with onions and spices and nestled inside a corn tortilla and topped with shredded lettuce and salsa.

Sometimes.

And sometimes they’re mashed and tucked inside a corn or flour tortilla and doused with Mexican crema and again, topped with lettuce, cabbage, salsa or pico de gallo.

And then there’s the Casa de Matt variety: a type that forsakes all pomp and circumstance and distills it down to the bare essentials. And it’s not very pretty.

The refrigerator is suffering from in-between celebration emptiness. A lonely cabbage sits there with a nice head of garlic, a elderly chunk of fontina and some grated parm. And yet it’s enough to create a world of comfort because I have a package of Pizzoccheri purchased several weeks ago.

Prounounced Peets-OH-keri, they are short tagliatelle shaped noodles made of 80% buckwheat and 20% wheat flours. I bought my bag of Pizzoccheri from Roan Mills at the Farmers Market so they are a bit more rustic (more buck and whole-wheaty) than the traditional pasta. The dish comes from the Valtellina, one of the most northern regions in Italy, a place where they understand the comforting combo of greens and cheese during cold weather.

Think of Pizzoccheri as a super northern version of a pasta al forno or baked pasta, but instead of the ziti with red sauce and mozzarella you have the aforementioned buck-wheaty pasta with cabbage and or green chard , diced potato, (I add caramelized onion) and sage all enriched with fontina and parmesan. It’s a big old cheesy mess of goodness.