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Roasted Butternut Squash Mac and Cheese
Reblogged from Sports-glutton.com
Traveling hindered me from posting a gluttonous recipe last week, but we’re back on schedule this week with a healthier alternative of that old favorite Mac & Cheese. As with any mac & cheese recipe this one couldn’t be simpler: prepare a few items, toss em all in a pot, and stir. However, it’s the subtle nuances of herbs, the slight amount of heat from cayenne, and the combination of Montegrappa cheese* and roasted butternut squash that sets this mac & cheese recipe apart anything out of a box.
Read more and get the recipe.
Note from KS: In addition to providing all manner of sporty updates, the Sports Glutton is a serious cook! This recipe takes mac and cheese to new and previously un-dreamt of heights. The instructions are clear and easy to follow. If you’re pressed for time, you could substitute frozen squash, but really fresh is so much better. Ideal for a company meal or a kitchen supper. Well done, Glutton!
Galloping through the inferno
I’ve been awfully busy of late, folks, but I wanted to let you know you are much on my mind. As soon as the Slattern’s Test Kitchen is back up and running and my eyebrows have filled in a bit more*, I’ll be right back to sending out middling recipes especially suited for the lazy, the untalented and the indifferent. Until then, here’s a quick peek at my culinary role model, the one and only Galloping Gourmet, Graham Kerr, in his heyday — that is, before he went all vegan and stopped drinking and became uninteresting. A cautionary tale if ever I’ve heard one.
* Important safety tip: Save that sixth glass of wine until AFTER you’ve flamed the Crepes Suzette.
I am NOT a foodie
Hi Everybody. My name is K. Nice to be here. Well, not really. See, I don’t have a food problem. It’s just that one of my blog buddies, The Byronic Man, recently referred to me as a foodie, and it got me thinking about how I’m perceived by others, so I decided to drop by, you know, just to check out a meeting.
In fact, high end cooking is not what I do. I’m more of a slap-it-on-the-table-so-I-can-get-back-to-cocktail-hour kind of cook. Food is just a blip on my screen. Really. I can stop anytime I want.
Secret Treasure Loaf* courtesy McGann's Big Game
And by the way I know what you’re doing with Ritz crackers and Cheez Wiz on the table there. I see the green bean casserole. What’s that meatloaf thing? Secret treasure loaf* — never heard of it. I could eat those. If I wanted to. And that Semi-Homemade video playing on an endless loop in the corner? That doesn’t bother me one stinking bit. See? I’m looking at it right…OH MY GOD tell me she didn’t just dredge those chicken cutlets in Knorr leek soup powder before she fried them!
I’m OK, I’m OK. I just need to sit down for a minute. Can I have a glass of water, please? Thank you. Is this from the tap? You don’t have sparkling by any chance?
What’s that you said? I’m not doing anything, just straightening the cocktail napkins and making sure the folds are all on the same side. No, that’s not OCD, it’s just good manners. If you don’t believe me, just ask M….Nothing, I didn’t say anything. I certainly was NOT going to invoke Martha. I hardly know who she is — if she hadn’t gone to jail, I bet I wouldn’t even have recognized the name.
See? Crafting only.
Hey! Get your mitts out of my bag. That’s not MY Martha Stewart Living. I’m just holding it for a friend. There were two copies at the gym this morning, you know how it is. No, that is not my name on the mailing label. That’s…my mom. Well I expect she’s trying to firm up a bit too, or maybe she was just looking for me in the spin room one day. Ever think of THAT? Oh alright, but I just read it for the crafts.
Blog? Yes, I write a blog, but it’s primarily a humor blog, you see, not a cooking one. My persona is just a foil, an avatar, you know an excuse to make a joke. I am in no way serious about food. Look it up on your iPad, there Mr. C, I urged people to use pie crust mix! No self respecting foodie would do that.
Pardon, Mr. C? Béchamel? I may have mentioned it once or twice. In passing. Oh c’mon man. Recommending that people make béchamel instead of opening a can of cream of mushroom soup hardly rises to the level of obsession. That’s a healthy eating suggestion, like lowering your sodium or using free range chickens instead of Purdue, both of which recommendations I am proud to say I’ve made. What I’m really providing is a public service. Promoting health, you dig? Sure I know the difference between white and black truffles, and I have even been known to shop at Fairway. But I buy Cheerios and little mini quiches there just like everyone else.
I glove you. courtesy boston.com
You understand, it’s mostly that I just detest the term foodie. You know how Baby Jane felt about Blanche, or Varitek feels about A-Rod (or how I do for that matter)? The term “foodie” is juvenile and implies a pretentious mania, and while I admit I do occasionally dangle a toe into the mania pond (mostly at the dipso- end), I am in no way obsessed with food.
What’s that you say? Nadia G? You wouldn’t. Oh my God, no, not that. Please, I just can’t. I can’t bear it. I’ll do anything, just don’t start that video. I AM BEGGING YOU.
Thank you. Really, I couldn’t have stood it. What’s that Mr. B? Oh I don’t know, maybe you’re right. I guess I should start again.
Hi Everybody. My name is K and I am a foodie.
Can’t we at least find another name for it?
* Secret Treasure Loaf: A loaf of ground Spam cubes with a Velveeta cheese center topped with a layer of hot Velveeta. Really.
Hey folks, As you’ve no doubt noticed, this post was Freshly Pressed. As this is my first go round with the process, please forgive me if I don’t answer each and every comment. I am most grateful for your presence and will try to visit you as soon as I get my thumb out of my mouth and dig out from under this mountain of attention. Many thanks again to The Byronic Man, for irking inspiring me to write this. At the risk of losing your custom to his far superior blog, let me urge you to take a peek at his oeuvre. As oeuvres go, it’s mighty impressive.
Spice Up Your Hump Day
Turkey vegetable chili: One bowl fits all.
Even vegetarians!
Feeding my household is challenging at best. I am the only mammal eater, so there’s no upside to making beef or pork. In fact it’s come to the point where I have to take my steak or burger into another room to spare my loved ones the traumatizing smell of charred, formerly sentient flesh. Salt and cheese are off the menu owing to Mr. Slattern’s health concerns, the apple of my eye dislikes potatoes, I’m trying to avoid pasta and bread, and serving beans more than once a week would be, gastrically speaking, unfortunate on an Old Testament scale. Let’s just leave it at that.
So it’s fish or chicken or turkey or fish most nights, except on omelette night, or in the event of a sit down strike, which in my house is shorthand for I’m sick of cooking, out of ideas and borrowing patience, so unless you’re prepared to have cereal (and in my case, vodka) for dinner — yes, again — we’d best go out.
Semi homemade. Completely inedible.
It’s the death of fresh food.
I’m all about convenience and shortcuts: pie crust mix instead of scratch crust, poaching salmon in the microwave, screw top wine, what have you. As long as the food (or drink) is still tasty and relatively nutritious, I say go for the easy way, and I always do. So whenever possible in the kitchen I choose the path of least resistance, but we all have to draw the line somewhere, and for me Sandra Lee’s godawful lasagna – in addition to her entire oeuvre, empire and philosophy really – is the ne plus ultra of kitchen crimes. Why, you ask? What could be so bad? She seems like a nice enough gal and she’s apparently making money hand over fist with her…how shall I say…“approach” to cooking, largely I assume because of her shameless brand promotion McCormick*.
courtesy yumsugar.com (no i did not make that up)
OK, first: You cannot trust a skinny cook; they could not possibly eat what they’re flogging. Imagine Giada taking more than a token mouthful of fettuccini carbonara Olive Garden*or Sandra Lee hoovering up a big plate of her granny’s special lasagna Prince*. Hardly likely. Clearly Anthony Bourdain stays slim by virtue of his cigarette, cricket and iguana intensive diet, so he doesn’t count. Besides, everyone knows those intestinal parasites you pick up when you drop off the grid really speed up your digestion and make keeping the weight off a cinch. Anyways, I love him. And Padma, well you see her chew, but can you recall her ever swallowing? I’ll leave it at that.
So Sandra Lee has made millions of dollars flogging recipes like lasagna made with tomato soup Campbell’s*, cottage cheese no brand?!* and shredded mozzarella Sargento*. Check out the recipe if you don’t believe me.
Back so soon? Are you okay? I told you it was unbelievable. The food looks like something you’d see in the chow line at the women’s penitentiary, and let me tell you, you could not trade a cigarette for it let alone a bar of soap. It could also pass for the result of a brainstorming meeting at Taco Bell where they decided to branch out from Mexican into Italian while adhering to the same stringent quality standards their customers have come to expect, meaning of course, successful digestion of the product requires a third world gastro-intestinal tract, post apocalyptic colon fauna, and a complete absence of the gag reflex.
Kitchen Slattern 