TheKitchenSinkRecipes.com

I love stuffed mushrooms. L.o.v.e. But, as I’ve mentioned many times before, Kevin absolutely does not. So, when I come across a new recipe for stuffed mushrooms, I look at it longingly. After a moment of wistfully imagining how delicious they’d be, I sigh and set the recipe aside.

Before Kevin’s parents’ Mother’s Day BBQ last Sunday, to which I was to bring an appetizer, I kept coming back to stuffed mushroom recipes. And the sad little scene I depicted above just kept replaying itself. Until! Until, I’d had enough. I wasn’t going to let a little mushroom aversion get in my way. I decided to pick the most promising of the recipes I’d found and roast and stuff miniature bell peppers rather than mushrooms.

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I’m in the middle of final exams—one today and my last. one. ever. on Thursday. And I have to admit that during the last week or so, meals as we usually know them have fallen by the wayside. There have been bowls of steamed veggies masquerading as dinner, teacups full of Kashi calling themselves lunch and absurd needs for a bite of mint chip ice cream right this very second. And Kevin has had just about enough of the leftover meatball sandwiches.

Given this set of circumstances, I suppose it’s not shocking that I made this pureed fava bean dip, which is the kind of thing that you can lazily graze on while studying. It’s even worth excavating a clear space on my desk, amid the stacks of books and papers. But given how time consuming (to put it mildly) it is to shell fresh favas, it is a bit surprising that that I’ve made this dip three times in the last 10 days.

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I first made this tart—Gourmet‘s Onion Tart with Mustard and Fennel—a few weeks ago. And, trust me, I would have loved to post about it right away. But this tart has a super power that stood in the way. That’s right: this is a magically disappearing tart. When I first made it, as a little nibble for guests as they arrived at our bistro-themed Bon Voyage party for my friend Maggie, the tart vanished within mere minutes after I wielded my pizza wheel to slice it into squares.

I could’ve told you about what a joy the tart was to make, with its ethereal, spongy dough that rolled out like a dream and its loooong, slooooow caramelization of slim onion half moons. And I could’ve told you how heavenly the toasted fennel seeds smelled, how fun it was to slather the tart with Dijon mustard or how thrilled I was with the brilliant golden color the tart took on after a brief stint in the oven. But, beyond all this, it would have been a little difficult to describe a tart I didn’t even get to try (!). And, more importantly, how could I entice you with photos of scant crumbs on an empty platter?

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I think I have been giving my sister short shrift in this blog of mine. I’ve cavalierly made her out to be a one-dish-woman. I’ve painted you a picture of the kind of twenty-something who makes Lean Cuisines. And, Lean Cuisines only. Well, it’s time to set the record straight.

That’s right. My sister’s cooking repertoire might start with Lean Cuisines, but it doesn’t end there. She apparently makes a mean frozen pot sticker too. I say “apparently” because, as I understand it, the pot stickers are not a delicacy that she cooks up at an hour at which I’m awake. “Apparently” they are more of a 2 a.m. kind of thing. (3 a.m.? 4 a.m.? All I know is that I am fast, fast asleep when she busts those babies out of the freezer and into the skillet.)

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For the Super Bowl, Kevin requested spinach-artichoke dip. And, I was happy to oblige. Sort of. You see, I had the gall to replace two staple ingredients of the classic dip. In lieu of mayonnaise, I used creamy Fage Greek yogurt. If you’ve examined any of the recipes original to this site, you just might be on to the fact that Fage yogurt is my miracle ingredient. And, as if the yogurt-for-mayo trade weren’t sacrilegious enough, I replaced the spinach in my version of, um, spinach-artichoke dip, with Swiss chard.

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I’m guessing that most of this blog’s readers have long since plotted out their lavish Super Bowl party spreads. Or, if you’re headed to someone else’s party, you’ve probably scoured your recipe file for the most show-stopping (Janet Jackson-esque?) treat to bring along with you.

But just in case you haven’t, I thought I’d share this quick, easy and infinitely-adaptable idea. Call it a popcorn bar (that smacks of Food Network), a trio of popcorns (a little pretentious, no?) or, if your heritage matches mine, a popcorn smorgasbord.

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I hope you’re not sick of hearing about the engagement party I cooked for last weekend yet. I know, after two days’ worth of posts, I might be trying your patience just an itsy-bitsy bit. But, hang on, because today’s post will make you glad you did.

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