Hi there.

Do you need some comfort food Something that invites your soul to snuggle up against some memories of simpler times, of peaceful days when the world made sense Something that fills your belly with a perfect medley of carbs, fat, protein, and flavor?

Me too.

This fall has been crazy. In mid-August I dove headfirst into some projects at work that required every ounce of creativity, planning, and time that I possessed. I took on a leadership role in my choir. I volunteered for an election that, well, let’s just say it didn’t go the way I’d hoped, and since then have still had trouble finding my bearings in this strange, post-election world. Sharing new recipes with you just hasn’t been at the top of the list.

But now it is! As the flood recedes, I’m finally finding myself looking through cookbooks again, browsing the wild and wonderful internet for tasty new things to cook. Which is how I found this one.

In truth, I’ve been making this for months. The fella in my house has always been a die-hard fan of Hamburger Helper, but in my continuing efforts to remove mysterious ingredients from our diet, I wanted to try a homemade version. There had to be one, right?

RIGHT.

The key is a big ol’ bowl of spices. Chili powder, paprika, cayenne, and garlic transform this otherwise bland mac-and-cheese-with-beef into a spicy, flavorful meal.

This meal is as easy as it is delicious. One pan. 30 minutes MAX. Fairly common ingredients. You don’t even need to cook your pasta separately, it cooks right with the ground beef, milk, and water.

Perhaps this greatest part though This is one of those magical meals that makes even better leftovers than first-night servings. Find the biggest pan your can and double this up if you want a week of packed lunches that will make your colleagues jealous. No need for comfort food to stay at home, right?

Homemade Hamburger Helper
Adapted from Farm Girl Gourmet

1 lb ground beef
1 T corn starch
1 T chili powder
2 tsp garlic powder
1 tsp granulated sugar
1 tsp salt
1 tsp paprika
1/4 tsp cayenne pepper
8 oz elbow macaroni or cavatappi (any twirly noodle will do)
2 c hot water
2 c milk
10 oz sharp cheddar cheese

Heat a large sauté pan (or skillet with a lid) over medium heat. Add ground beef to the pan and brown. Tip: add a few tablespoons of water to help break up the beef. 

While the beef cooks, measure corn starch, sugar, salt, and spices into a small dish and set aside. Grate cheese and measure out milk, water, and pasta.

Once the beef has browned, increase the heat to medium-high and add the water, milk, pasta, and spices to the pan and stir well. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low and simmer for 10-12 minutes or until pasta is al dente.

Add cheese and mix well. Continue cooking over low for another 3-4 minutes if needed to thicken the sauce.

This meal is really, really good fresh. But it makes simply transcendent leftovers. Plan accordingly.

And now, for something thoroughly NOT wedding cake:

Meatballs!

After spending the majority of last week baking more cake than many people bake in a lifetime, I’m celebrating this week by not baking anything sweet. No cookies, no cakes, no pies, nothin’. Instead, MEATBALLS.

These particular meatballs are a blend, primarily, of ground beef and ground pork. You can really mix and match any ground meats you like, or you can just use one variety. I’ve made excellent batches using only ground turkey, but beef and pork were in the freezer, so there you are. But contrary to their name, meatballs are not entirely meat. I daresay that every recipe I’ve seen suggests that bread crumbs are just as important as the meat itself.

Let’s actually talk about bread crumbs for a moment. Bread crumbs are incredibly easy to produce (if you have bread, you can make bread crumbs), but they have still managed to find their way onto the shelves of grocery stores in a consistency that often is not so much of crumbs as it is a fine dust. If you have fresh bread, a few minutes in the oven will crisp it enough that you can smash it into crumbs at whatever consistency you fancy. Or, if you have trouble making it through a baguette before it goes stale, as I always seem to do, you can grind that sucker up in the food processor for bread crumbs far more satisfying and probably more economical than the canisters at the store.

In addition to the bread crumbs, we’ll add some eggs, some parmesan cheese, and some seasoning to make our meatballs awesome.

Now you can really mix this up however you like, but as I stressed when making beef jerky some months ago, digging in with your hands is really the most effective means of mixing this quickly and well. You might as well, because you’re going to get your hands all meaty anyway to fashion the mixture into balls.

At the risk of prompting innuendo: you can make your meatballs whatever size you like. I tend to make lots of smaller, bite-size meatballs, while others may prefer fewer, larger ones. I find the smaller size easier to cook, as they more quickly cook all the way through by the time a brown crust has been achieved in the frying pan.

I’ve heard that you can bake meatballs as well, but as I mentioned, we’re not baking anything. Plus, the brown, pan-fried crust is one of the features of meatballs I find so appealing. So pan-frying it is!

Once they are done, these meatballs can be served in a variety of ways. You can eat them just as they are, stab them with a fork and dip them in ranch dressing, smother them with brown gravy Ikea-style, or my favorite, heaped atop a mound of spaghetti and tomato sauce.

Sheer, savory, not-anything-like-wedding-cake bliss.

Classic Meatballs
Adapted from Sarah W.

A Note on Yield: This recipe makes about 80 one-inch meatballs I like to cook about half of them (which will comfortably feed 4-6 people when served over pasta) and then freeze the remainder for another day. To freeze, line a cookie sheet with parchment paper and freeze the meatballs so they are not touching one another. Once they are solid (it takes about 2 hours), you can bag them up for storage.

1 lb ground beef
1 lb ground pork
4 eggs, beaten
1 1/2 c bread crumbs
1/2 c parmesan cheese
1 1/2 tsp garlic powder
1 tsp black pepper
3/4 tsp salt
1/2 tsp oregano
2-3 T olive oil

In a large, wide bowl, combine all ingredients except for oil and mix well, using your fingers or a fork. Working with small sections of the meat mixture, roll each section between your palms to create a ball about 1″ in diameter. Continue until the entire mixture has been rolled into balls.

Heat oil in a large frying pan over medium heat until oil glistens and pan is hot. Add meatballs to pan to form a single layer, allowing a bit of space between the meatballs. Turn meatballs as the bottom side begins to brown, allowing a crisp exterior to form on as much of the meatball as possible, and until meatballs are cooked through. Remove meatballs to a plate lined with paper towels to soak up excess grease.

If serving meatballs over spaghetti, bring a pot of water to a boil while you are heating the oil in the frying pan. Add pasta and cook to al denté, usually about 7-8 minutes. Heat your favorite pasta sauce in a separate pan.

You can add the meatballs directly to the pasta sauce if you wish, but I prefer to place them on top of each plate of pasta & sauce. Garnish with parmesan cheese if desired.

Landing in North Carolina, and dragging luggage out of the airport in the peak of summer, is always rather shocking after several days in the cool, dry air of southwest Colorado. Sure, my hometown is hot during the day at this time of year too, but no matter what temperature the mercury hits while the sun is up, the air cools each night jeans-and-sweatshirt weather.

Every trip to Colorado seems too short, but sometimes, I get to bring little tastes of home back with me. And this time, it’s some tasty homemade jerky!

Backstory: my dad and grandfather used to raise cattle. Several years ago during a bad drought, my dad sold all of his, but in years since, he has rented out our pasture to a fellow cattleman. Last summer, instead of charging rent money, my parents got a freezer full of cow. Cow fed on grass I can see from my bedroom window. In the face of this enormous bounty,  I bought my dad a jerky-making kit with several packets of seasoning, several of cure, and a meat-oozy-thing rather like a caulking gun. He had already adopted my grandma’s old and trusty food dehydrator, so while I was home, we decided to take it out for a spin.

Jerky-making, as it turns out, is pretty straight forward. Meat and seasoning are mixed together, along with some cure to help preserve the meat, before it it formed into strips and dried for several hours to produce the tender-tough snack most of us have only ever tasted out of a Jack’s Links bag. It’s also way more fun than gas-station snacking.

After just a few hours in the dehydrator (you can also use your oven!), my dad and I were left with six sheets of warm, dry jerky, ready to make its way to North Carolina.

Now that we’ve tried these packets, I think my dad and I are both curious about the possibilities of homemade seasonings and testing out different cuts and kinds of meat. But for now, I guess I’ll have to live with six baggies of these little buggers. Oh, what a difficult life I lead…

Homemade Beef Jerky
As instructed from Nesco Jerky Spice

1 lb ground beef, fully thaw
1 packet jerky spice
1 packet jerky cure

In a medium bowl, combine beef, spice, and cure. Using your fingers, mix the spice and cure into the beef very thoroughly for several minutes. Mixture should become very sticky. If using a jerky press, form mixture into a cylinder and insert into press. If you don’t have a jerky press, tear off a small section of the mixture and roll out between your palms to create a long stick, then press flat. Continue until the full mixture has been used.

If using a dehydrator, press jerky out onto drying racks and separate evenly throughout the dryer. Dry on high heat (160 °F) for several hours until jerky is dried through.  If using your oven, set oven at 160 °F or lowest setting. Lay jerky strips on cookie sheets lined with parchment paper. Allow oven to vent by keeping the door ajar with a wooden spoon to permit airflow.

For whichever method of drying you are using, pat jerky dry with paper towels several times throughout the drying process to remove grease that pools on the top. Jerky is dry when it is tough but still flexible, and drying time will vary based on thickness of meat, humidity, and efficiency of your dehydrator. Remove directly from the dehydrator/oven onto paper towels. Top with another layer of paper towels and press down, soaking up as much grease as possible. Allow to cool completely, wrapped in the towels. Snip into strips of desired length.

Store in an airtight container or ziploc bag at room temperature for up to one month. For longterm storage, store in baggies in the freezer until ready to eat or to take on your next adventure!

I’ve been making a lot of soup lately. I crave it when it gets cold, when it gets cloudy, or when I just want to eat the embodiment of warmth and comfort.

Do you know the story of Stone Soup An old folk tale that varies from culture to culture, the story centers around a traveler who arrives in a small village seeking food. At every door he is turned away as the villagers attempt to protect their meager pantries. The traveler then asks, quite simply for a stone and a kettle so that he might prepare a delicious soup.

Curious, the villagers slowly emerge from their homes and begin to offer small ingredients that will improve the soup: a bunch of carrots, an ear of corn, some grains of pepper. In no time at all, a hearty, filling soup feeds not only the traveler but the entire village, and the modest contribution of each villager yields an excellent meal for everyone.

We used to celebrate this tale of generosity at my childhood church once a year at a Stone Soup Sunday potluck, and to this day, veggie-filled meaty soups remind me of the story. And though this particular soup was not built with ingredients from my neighbors (and a rock in the bottom of the pot), it was still warm and comforting and everything I want soup to be.

Including days and days of warm-and-comforting-and-everything-I-want-soup-to-be leftovers. Hallelujah.

What is your favorite soup I’m looking for more to try…

Vegetable Beef Soup
Loosely based on this recipe from All Recipes

1 1/2 c carrots
1 1/2 c mushrooms
2 c celery
1 1/2 c green beans
1 1/2 c onion
4 c potatoes
3 cloves garlic
1 can corn, drained
1 lb chuck steak, chopped into bite-size chunks

1 T oil
2 T worchestershire sauce

1/2 tsp black pepper
1/2 tps ground mustard
1/4 tsp oregano
1/4 tsp thyme
2 bay leaves
1/2 c tomato paste
8 C beef broth
salt & pepper to taste
asiago cheese rind (optional)

Heat oil in a large pot, no smaller than 6 quarts. Add chopped chuck steak to pan and season lightly with salt & pepper. Add worchestershire sauce and cook until meat is browned. Add onions and garlic and saute until softened.

Add all remaining ingredients EXCEPT mushrooms and stir throughly. Cover and increase heat to bring to a boil. Reduce heat slightly and boil for 30 minutes or until potatoes are tender. Taste and adjust seasoning as needed. Add mushrooms and cheese rind (if using) and boil for 5 minutes more.

Remove from heat and let rest for 5 minutes before serving, removing the remaining rind and the bay leaves if you can find them. Serve with yummy bread!

If there’s one thing I know about lasagne, it’s this.

My mom’s recipe is the best one.

I’ve never tasted it’s equal.

Which leads me to the second thing I know about lasagne.

Sometimes, getting exactly what you want require cheap, grocery store tomato sauce, cottage cheese, and dried pasta.

Sure, I’ve localed it up a bit with some fantastic locally raised beef and parsley from my garden, but this semi-unusual way of preparing lasagne is the way I was taught, and as we’ve already discussed, it’s the most delicious way to do so. Why break something that works so beautifully?

This is not to say that I will never foray into fancy lasagnes with handmade noodles and fresh tomato sauces, but I doubt I will ever abandon this one.

Lasagne is a dish that I remember from my childhood days as a herald of people coming to visit, or a special occasion. With an hour to prep and an hour in the oven, this is no quick meal to prepare. BUT. Once you make it, you have twelve slices, which if you’re by yourself (as I was this summer) you can eat it for a week. True story.

And who wouldn’t want to eat lasagne for a week It has almost everything good inside! Long, wide noodles. Tangy red sauce. A cheesy concoction fit for the gods. Be still, my heart!

After composing the three elements (noodles, sauce, cheesy-business) comes the most entertaining part of lasagne: the construction thereof. It took me a while when I first began cooking this dish to get the right balance of the three, and not run out of one before the others. I can’t actually remember my mom measuring any of these things, but for your sake, I’ve finally found the ratio that I think works best. Plus if you’re super-smart (read: smarter than me) you will actually separate your ingredients into the number of layers you need for each to ensure that you WON’T run out.

Or you can wing it.

Don’t be like me.

Then get all your little bowls in a huddle around a big, empty baking dish, and prepare for the fun.

Ready?!?! Construct!

Ta da!

Aaaaaand now you still have to wait an hour to eat. Stick this bad boy in the oven ASAP.

Meanwhile, however, take the extra noodle you made (you should always make an extra… for emergencies… yeah) and start cleaning up.

This is, of course, required.

Also wash your dishes. You’ll have plenty, and an hour of cooking is a good time to knock ’em out. I’m not telling you how to run your life, but trust me.

Because when this comes out of the oven?

You really won’t want to do anything but eat it.

Lasagne
Adapted, just a smidge, from Mom

Note: The trickiest part of lasagne is timing the preparation of your three elements. The idea is to be pouring the noodles into a colander as your sauce is simmering and your cheese mixture is mixed and ready. This takes some practice, but I’ve tried to outline the order in which I prepare things to finish everything at about the same time.

9-10 dry lasagne noodles
1 large can Hunt’s Traditional or Mushroom tomato sauce (or whatever tomato sauce tickles your palette)
1 pound ground beef
salt
pepper
1 pound cottage cheese (I use 1%)
3/4 pound mozarella cheese, grated
4-5 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped
1 13″x9″ baking dish (not for eating, but obviously important)
1/3 c finely grated parmesan cheese

Grate the mozarella and chop parsley before beginning to cook. Or, hire your room mate or significant other to do those while you commence the next steps.

Bring a large pot of lightly salted water to a boil.

Heat a large frying pan or skillet with a bit of oil. Add beef and season with salt and pepper. While cooking the beef, break it into pieces as small as possible so that it will be evenly distributed in the lasagne.

As the beef begins to cook, the water should be boiling, or close to it. Once it begins to boil,  add lasagne noodles. It may take a minute or so before the noodles soften enough that they can be submerged in water. Once noodles are submerged, boil until noodles are about 2 minutes shy of al dente (there should still be a thin layer of firmness in the noodle). Remove to a colander to drain and cool slightly. If you estimate that the noodles will be sitting out for more than 10 minutes, cover with a lid so they don’t dry out.

Meanwhile, once the beef has cooked, pour off any excess grease that is in the pan. Add the tomato sauce and stir thoroughly. Cover with a lid and simmer.

Finally, while your sauce is simmering and noodles are cooking, combine cottage cheese, mozarella, and parsley in a large bowl. Stir until thoroughly mixed. Taste test for good measure.

In theory, everything will be ready at about the same time. Place the bowls of your three elements close together around your pan. If you want to separate your sauce and cheese mixture into equal parts to ensure your layer proportions are correct, separate the sauce into 4 small bowls and the cheese into 3 bowls.

Now is also a good time to preheat your oven to 350 °F.

To construct the lasagne, add layers to the pan in the following order:

1. Meat sauce
2. Noodles (3 complete noodles, side by side)
3. Cheese (dolloped in and then spread with fingers or the back of a spoon)

You will have three layers of each, plus an additional layer of sauce on top as Layer 10. Sprinkle parmesan over the top to create Layer 11.

Bake lasagne for 55 minutes. Remove from oven and let sit for 5-10 minutes before slicing into 12 pieces and serving.

Makes excellent leftovers, if your significant other will let it last that long.

At all of the various jobs I have held in the last several years, I’ve packed my lunch almost every day.

Sometimes I take leftovers, sometimes a sandwich, sometimes a bizarre assortment of whatever I can grab from the fridge or pantry in the morning as I’m rushing to leave my apartment and make it to work on time.

Bierocks, however, make fairly regular appearances on my lunch menu, and they also tend to illicit the most curiosity from my colleagues.

You’re probably asking yourself the same question my colleagues did: what the heck is a bierock As a kid, I interpreted them as German egg rolls. That was… incorrect. So I did a little research: pretty much everyone seems to agree that they are “meat turnovers” originally from Eastern Europe, most likely Germany or Russia. The recipe  I modified is titled “German-Austrian Bierocks”, so who knows. They are definitely NOT fancy; in fact, they’re about as close to peasant food as you can get. I mean, they are basically little pouches of simple bread dough filled with cabbage, onion, and ground beef.

But each little wonder is warm, savory, and filling: right in line with what I usually crave for lunch. Better still, bierocks freeze amazingly well, and since each batch makes almost four dozen of them, they are perfect for days when I need to pack lunch quickly but don’t have anything else prepared. Homemade frozen meals without all the packaging and bizarre preservatives. Brilliant!

I think you should make some. They’re tasty! But, they are a bit of a process, so think of this more as a food preservation project than making an evening meal. I rarely actually eat a single one of these the same day I make them.

The first step in making bierocks is to make a nice, savory bread or roll dough.

Oddly, the bierock recipe I inherited doesn’t actually include instructions or ingredients for the dough that surrounds the hearty heaps of filling. The dough I use is a refrigerator dough that can be made up to five days in advance. It requires minimal kneading, and it makes just enough dough to use up the filling.

Which brings us to phase two: filling!

Feel free to be creative with the filling. Season it however you want. But whatever you do, make sure you use a large pan. The biggest one you have. The cabbage will cook down, I assure you, but it has a lot of bulk when it’s raw, and you will need to stir the mixture. Plan ahead.

I would have posted a picture of the filling, but let’s face it… there’s just not many ways to make a bowl full of limp cabbage look that interesting.

Moving on.

Construction! The fun part!

Every time I make bierocks I always panic when I roll out the first batch of dough. I’m not going to have enough. I’m going to run out of dough and have a heaping bowl of filling leftover. Will I need to make more HELP!

It’s not a pretty moment. I want to help you avoid one like it, so don’t panic, just roll the dough out as thin as you can. Mine is less than an 1/8″ thick.

One by one, you’ll construct your little bierocks. It will take some time. If you have a TV and can see it from the kitchen, pop in a movie. I watched Wall-E. It was awesome, as usual.

Once the bierocks are built, just pop ’em in the oven and voila! Lunch for weeks!

Is this a time-intensive project Yes. Does it take a little finesse to construct each bierock Yes.

Are they totally and completely worth the effort?

Um, yes. Try some, a reap the rewards. Enjoy!

Bierocks
Adapted from two different recipes from my Grandma Emma
Makes 40-45 bierocks

For the Dough
1/3 c canola oil
1/2 T salt
3/4 c warm water
1 packet dry yeast dissolved in 1/4 warm water (this is in addition to the 3/4 water already called for)
2 T white sugar
1/4 c wheat germ
1 egg
3+ c all purpose flour

Dissolve yeast in 1/4 c warm water and set aside. In a large mixing bowl, combine oil, salt, warm water, yeast mixture, sugar, wheat germ, and egg until thoroughly mixed. Add flour one cup at a time, stirring after each addition. Dough should be moist but not too sticky. Add additional flour a little bit at a time if needed. Cover bowl with plastic wrap and place in the refrigerator for at least two hours before using.

The dough can remain in the fridge for up to five days, so it’s fine to make this a day in advance.

For the Filling
1-2 T oil
1 lb ground beef or turkey
4-5 c chopped onion (2-3 medium onions)
7-8 c chopped cabbage (1 small head)
1 head garlic, peeled and minced
1 tsp salt
1 tsp black pepper
1 T Worcestershire sauce

In the largest saute pan you have, heat oil over medium heat. Add ground meat, half of the salt, and half of the pepper and brown. Once the meat is fully cooked through, add the garlic, onion, remaining salt & pepper, and Worcestershire sauce. Cook until onions begin to caramelize. Add cabbage and stir. Cover pan and simmer until cabbage is soft. Empty the filling mixture into a colander in the sink. Let the mixture drain and cool while you prepare the dough for bierock construction.

Constructing Bierocks

Grease or line with parchment paper at least two large cookie sheets. Divide dough into two halves. Return one half to the mixing bowl and cover. On a floured surface, lightly knead the first half of dough until it is floured enough that it won’t stick heavily to the surface. Roll the dough out so that dough is 1/8 – 1/4 inch thick. Gently slice the dough into squares 3-4 inches long on each side. Outer edges and incomplete squares can be removed and returned to the remaining dough to be rolled out in the next batch.

When filling mixture has cooled to room temperature, sample it and adjust seasoning to taste. Peel one square at a time from the floured surface and gently stretch, returning it to the surface on the opposite side of the square. Add 3-4 tablespoons of filling to the dough square. Bring two opposing corners of the dough together over the filling and press corners together. Repeat with the remaining corners and ensure that there are no holes in the dough, adding additional filling if desired through the final corner prior to completing the seal. Place bierock onto the cookie sheet seal-side down. Continue making bierocks with all d0ugh and filling. If dough is rolled thinly enough, you should run out of filling right before you run out of dough.

Bake at 350 ºF for 18-22 minutes or until tops of bierocks are golden-brown. Remove to a cooling rack.

If serving immediately, brush with butter before serving. If freezing for storage, place bierocks on a cookie sheet and freeze until solid. Then, transfer bierocks to a freezer safe bag or container.