Engine 9's chile verde

Like most of you, I have a stack of go-to recipes (figuratively if not literally) that I can whip out with little to no grocery shopping and even less effort. I love these recipes, and not only because I can make them with my eyes closed. They're good. They became favorites for a reason, after all. For me, the short list includes pasta alla amatriciana, soy sauce chicken, and minestrone. I've cooked and devoured these dishes more times than I can count.

The problem with these recipes is that I get a little tired of them. Sometimes I start to feel acutely like I need to make something brand new. When this happens, I enjoy nothing more than perusing cookbooks, food magazines, and blogs I like in search of something inspiring.

Something like a tomatillo.

While flipping through this groovy cookbook called Firehouse Food, a compilation of recipes from San Francisco's firefighters, I stumbled upon a recipe for chile verde. It had three desirable qualities going for it: 1) it required just 5 ingredients 2) it seemed to involve very little work and 3) it looked, as one of my fellow bloggers might say, wicked good.

First I had to get a couple of artsy shots of the tomatillos though. Incidentally, this was my first time using tomatillos. I have no idea what took me so long to discover these delightful little bundles, like hard green apples wrapped in crinkly cabbage leaves.

You start by toasting the tomatillos in a dry pan, then pureeing them. Brown the pork, add the tomatillo puree, along with some garlic, jalapenos, and salt, and you're all set. While the pork bubbled gently, I set about making Mexican rice, also from the cookbook. Another revelation! Simple, flavorful, and delicious.

All the dinner required was patience, which I mustered up with the distractions of the husband, dog, and a couple of frosty Sierra Nevadas. A few hours later we ate chile verde and Mexican rice, with warm corn tortillas to soak up the sauce.

So, thanks to Bob Lopez of Engine 9, I now have a fantastic new recipe to break up the routine--and definitely one good enough for company.

Bad mood blondies

On Thursday, someone smashed the rear window of our car. It was parked at the train station and the husband discovered it in dismay at the end of the work day. Nothing was taken, because we leave nothing in the car, which you can tell very plainly from the outside. So whoever did it just to do it.

Frankly, what I find most offensive of all is that the window was smashed not just with any bottle but with a San Pellegrino bottle. Perhaps it was one of the many BMW-drivers who also parks there, someone so repulsed by our car's weathered exterior they had to hurl their sparkling Italian water bottle through the glass. I won't lie to you: it's a 1990 Honda Civic with some serious battle scars. But hideous enough to merit an attack? Not even close.

Anyhow, the incident put me in a bad mood. I'm not a perfect person, but I try to be decent and considerate and not break other people's stuff. But I guess there are plenty of jerks out there looking to steal and vandalize things that belong to someone else just for the thrill of it. It's the kind of small event that can make me feel very down on the human race.

My tactic for occurrences like this it to try not to think about it. It's the old ostrich maneuver, which in plenty of cases is not a good thing (say, when it comes to your job, your relationships, your health) but in certain cases is very appropriate. When you cannot change something and could not have prevented it, you gotta keep on rolling.

Distracting yourself helps. So I decided to bake up some blondies. I love making blondies because they come together in a flash and create hardly any dishes. Plus I love that faintly burnt smell that you get when you blend melted butter and brown sugar.

These are from Mark Bittman. He says chocolate chips are optional, but who are we kidding? Of course, with a whole cup of chips in such a small batch, calling them blondies might be pushing it. But as you know from reading this blog, I'm no purist. I'm of the "do what you like" school of thought and this week, sweet, sticky, melty, chocolate blondies fit the bill.

Lemony snapper with buttered beets and carrots

Unlike professional chefs, we home cooks can make what we want when we want--even if the combinations seem surprising. I'm not trying to imply that I'm the most creative girl on the block. But I do sometimes get an idea about something and it's nice to have the freedom and solitude of your own kitchen to experiment.

The other night I wanted to do something with the beets and carrots sitting idly in the crisper. I'm not sure if I've mentioned it, but I'm nuts for carrots. And I like beets pretty well too. I began to envision a little...dare I say medley? of these two Crayola-colored vegetables, smothered in butter.

I boiled the beets first--undercooked beets are the worst--then cooled and peeled them. Once the butter foamed and faded in my frying pan, I added the carrots, cooking them over medium heat. After awhile I added the beets. Feeling froggy, I decided to add a little brown sugar, thinking my southern husband might enjoy a little added sweetness. But to balance it, I finished the dish with a splash of red wine vinegar. No need to be cloying.

Once done, they looked like bright little gems, and they tasted of butter and sugar, with a slight tanginess.

"But Hungry Dog," you're wondering, "surely you served more than just vegetables for dinner!"

Why of course, dear reader, don't be silly. I pan-fried two red snapper fillets and squeezed fresh lemon juice over them as they came off the heat. I never can get fish like snapper browned properly without dusting it first in flour, which I didn't feel like doing this time, so the fish ended up a little pale. It tasted good, though, and looked pretty with the sweet and sour beets and carrots.

So, it was a strange combination that wouldn't fly with Tom Colicchio, but he's not invited over anyway. It seems the whole point of cooking for yourself and your loved ones is to have a good time, and to try and learn something now and then. Which I did indeed.