Saturday, November 27, 2010

The best macaroni and cheese

Before I start writing up this recipe, I'd just like to take a moment to tell you a bit about it. This is a macaroni and cheese recipe, obviously. That doesn't really convey its glory though. Let's put it this way instead: the recipe you're about to read contains 4 1/2 cups of cheese, has white pasta sauce poured over it, and has cornflakes crunched on top. You heard me, cornflakes.

I'm assuming that at this point you're sufficiently tantalized by the thought of this food that you would agree to give me, at minimum, a controlling ownership stake in your first two or three children to be able to taste it. Instead of that, however, you're about to get it for free on some internet page with a profanity-and-bean-based title. This is called the Miracle of User-Generated Content, and incredibly serious people devote military-grade brain cells to writing pompous essays about it.

In other words, this isn't just a macaroni and cheese recipe. It's a shining embodiment of a 21st century cultural phenomenon. Damn.

Macaroni and Cheese: The Right Way
Ingredients:
  • ~3 cups of elbow macaroni (9-10 oz. dry, if you have a scale)
  • 3 tbsp. grated onion
  • 1.5 tsp salt
  • 3/8 tsp black pepper
  • 1/4 tsp white pepper
  • 1/4 tsp thyme
  • 4.5 cups shredded cheese (I use a mix of mozzerella, swiss, and cheddar, with a little asiago thrown in for zest. You can mix it up if you want.)
  • 3 cups thin white sauce (see below)
  • 1.5 tbsp. butter
Steps:
  1. Preheat oven to 375
  2. Cook mac according to package. Drain.
  3. Prepare thin white sauce according to directions below.
  4. Mix the onions, salt, pepper, and cheese together into what will henceforth be referred to as the "cheese muck of deliciousness" (CMOD).
  5. Place 1/2 the mac in an ungreased 3 qt. casserole dish.
  6. Cover with 1/2 the cheese muck of deliciousness.
  7. Add second half of the mac.
  8. Cover with remaining half of the CMOD.
  9. Pour the white sauce over the whole thing. Distribute somewhat evenly.
  10. Dot with butter.
  11. Crunch cornflakes on top. Realize that crushing a handful of cornflakes is possibly the most satisfying sensation there is, and that we could probably end war if we could somehow get every major world leader to do this when they wake up in the morning.
  12. Cover (with the top of the dish if you have that, with aluminum foil otherwise). Bake for 30 min. covered, then uncover and bake for an additional 15 min.
  13. Cool and serve. Swear undying vengeance against the false macaroni and cheese prophets who convinced America that orange goo in any way resembles the real item. Realize that these people are almost certainly the leading candidates for "what's wrong with America" and are almost solely responsible for the moral decline of our culture.*
Thin White Sauce"Like a white sauce, but thinner!" --Wm. Shakespeare

Makes 3 cups, the amount required above.

Ingredients:
  • 3 cups milk
  • 3 tbsp. butter
  • ~2 tbsp. flour
  • 3/4 tsp salt
  • 3/8 tsp pepper

Steps:
  1. Melt butter over low heat
  2. Blend in dry ingredients
  3. Cook until smooth
  4. Stir in milk, turn up heat
  5. Heat to boiling, stirring, boil and stir for 1 min.
There you have it--the best macaroni and cheese (I don't make this boast idly). There's nothing I can say that will top that, so I'll just leave you with a link to a cartoon of a bear who is not able to understand cheese as well as he might wish.

*"But Glenn Beck!" you exclaim. Do you think I hadn't thought of this, people? Don't you realize that there wouldn't be a Glenn Beck if we all ate this macaroni and cheese regularly?!

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Split pea soup w/ sweet potatoes and extra veggies.

History's greatest minds have faltered, over and over again throughout time, when faced with one vital question. What if I want to make split pea soup, as frequently served with ham, but I don't have a pig? Or, even worse, what if I don't want to eat a pig at all? (This variation of the puzzle eliminates the "go find a pig" out used by Aristotle.)

Today, we at Motherf**cking Black Beans pronounce this puzzle solved through the power of vegetable stock, sweet potatoes, and parsnips. Beyond being a massive contribution to human intellectual advancement, the recipe below is perfect winter dinner food.

(The idea here is that you're replacing the juices from the ham with the veggie stock; sweet potatoes are the most satisfying meat replacement I could think of, but if you overdo it the soup gets too sweet, so I turned to the parsnips to make up the remainder of the additional chewy bits.)

Ingredients:
  • 2 tbsp. vegetable oil
  • 1 white turnip, peeled and chopped
  • 2 carrots, chopped
  • 1 medium onion, chopped fine
  • 1 package of split peas
  • 1 sweet potato, peeled and chopped
  • 2 parsnips, chopped
  • 2 cups veggie stock
  • 6 cups water
  • 2 bay leafs
  • ~1 tsp. salt.
  • Other spices. I think we went with some pepper and oregano, or something. Do what you feel is right.
Steps:
  1. First chop everything up. Be creative with the veggie selection if you want--I think you want a mix of flavors--some sweeter, some more earthy--and a mix of chopped sizes. I'm thinking about throwing in some radishes next time.
  2. Get a big pot. Cook all the veggies except the sweet potatoes in the oil over medium heat for about five minutes; stir a lot.
  3. Add veggie stock, water, split peas, sweet potatoes, and bay leaves. Cook for 45-50 minutes, until desired degree of aggressive thickness is achieved. Do the spice thing as desired.
  4. Eat. I recommend some cheesy bread to go with it, since that's a nice change of pace. As you can see from the photo at right, this is legitimate Company Food*, and will also bring you dangerously near to overdosing on seasonality. I intend to eat absolutely staggering amounts of this dish this winter.
As you may have noticed, I found my camera. (It was in a plastic crate of my belongings in Bennett's apartment for a year--who knew?) Be warned, John--if you want to contend for the sought-after distinction of having the most aesthetically pleasing posts on this blog, you're going to have to step up your game.

*Company Food (n): Food that can be served to guests without shaming your parents by giving the impression that you were raised in a dog kennel. Definition varies by occasion and setting, but experts generally agree that the term excludes leftovers, stale bread, and anything eaten directly out of a can.

Monday, November 8, 2010

New Motherf***ing Sandwich on the Block

I got this idea from this amazing sandwich I had at Trident Booksellers and I’m basically stealing their idea. I’m not sure that this is the exact recipe and I changed it so if you work at Trident and you’re pissed, f*** you because it’s not the same recipe and I don’t even care that you’re mad because I really like your bookstore and would probably like you so let’s just make up, ok?


So here’s the basic formula for the sandwich:


Goo + cheese = goocheese, or tasty f***ing sandwich filling.


Check out this goo:


1. some super-tasty mustard, like horseradish mustard or Dijon mustard. The kind of mustard where you can see the mustard seeds because that’s why they call it mustard. It’s because of the mustard seeds. So why does everybody eat that French’s bulls**t that doesn’t even taste like real mustard and actually tastes like someone is squirting spoiled vinegar down my throat!

2. Avocado. Squished. You may choose your preferred squishing method. Perhaps with a mortar and pestle (though this method is very messy and completely unnecessary but could be cool to try).

3. Hummus (see homemade hummus recipe below).


Alright, so now that you’ve got your goo, spread that sheezy on some bread. How much? As much as it takes for you to goo the bread up...duh


Now cover that breadgoo with some cheese. I like Havarti dill for this particular sandwich, but choose whatever kind of cheese you like. Could be cheddar for all I care. Actually, I really don’t give a f*** so I don’t know why I’m choosing to spend a whole paragraph on this bullsh**


Alright, not that you’ve covered the breadgoo with cheese, pop it into a toaster oven. Don’t have a toaster oven? Well, then you’re screwed because if you put this cheesy breadgoo vertical, you’ll have a hot mess on your hands…Actually mostly on your toaster.


So that’s it. Goo, bread, and cheese. But damn that’s some good cheesybreadgoo. Enjoy b**ches.