It’s come to my attention that many of you have never heard of a “hot dish.”  So let’s get that issue out of the way right off the bat.  A “hot dish” is this: a casserole baked in Minnesota.  Simple as that.  To flesh out the definition, though, I’ll let you know that hot dish also involves a 9-by-13-inch Pyrex and some Campbell’s Cream of [Fill-in-the-Blank] Soup.  And the very best version is Tater Tot Hot Dish, a recipe title that jets me back to my childhood—happily so.

Now, I consider Tater Tot Hot Dish a regional dish.  Like queso in Texas, barbecue along parts of the Eastern Sea Board, biscuits in the South—where every cook in the region has a recipe for the dish firmly in his recipe, every good Minnesotan has her own version of Tater Tot Hot Dish.  The Tater Tot Hot Dish might not be as glamorized or hallowed as any of these other regional delicacies, but we Minnesotans take it pretty seriously.  Just show up to any Lutheran church pot luck: you’ll have your pick of at least a handful of versions.

Tater Tot Hot Dishes recipes, among Minnesotans, are a bit like culinary fingerprints: everyone has one, no two are exactly the same, and you can barely tell two different versions apart unless you look really closely.  For instance, my mom, my aunt and my grandma, who lived together under the same small roof for nearly two decades, all have distinct Tater Tot Hot Dish recipes.  I would not turn down a scoop (oh, that’s another thing: hot dishes are meant to be scooped, not sliced; if you’re looking for the cohesion of a slice of lasagna or a wedge of gratin, for instance, you are barking up the wrong tree with hot dish) of any of these three ladies’ versions of hot dish (especially not my grandma’s, as she’s been known to shell out a quarter to any grandkid willing to eat her hot dishes), but it almost seems my destiny that I should find a Tater Tot Hot Dish recipe of my own.

And find it I did, after my Sloppy Joe post kicked up a wave of nostalgia in me and a storm of curiosity in you all.  So, as promised, I set out to create my own version of the Minnesota classic over the weekend.  If you’ve been reading this blog for any amount of time, you know that I have a serious predilection for all things homemade (I don’t even like ketchup, for heaven’s sake!).  Thus, I couldn’t bring myself to use frozen tater tots or canned mushroom soup.  Oh, and I prefer ground turkey over ground beef, so I used that in my version.  Yes, that’s right, I took a recipe that has roughly three key ingredients and omitted all of them.  Whoopsie!

But I think we did all right with our Tater Tot(-less) Hot Dish.  I made a faux cream of [fill-in-the-blank] soup by thickening up some chicken stock with some flour and milk.  I also went heavy on the vegetables (leeks and celery) and, for punch and fragrance, I added a pinch of celery seed and herbs de Provence.  And I roasted tiny cubes of russet potatoes to stand in for the the tater tots. Yes, I’d say I put my stamp on the Tater Tot Hot Dish.  How Minnesotan of me.

Tater Tot(-less) Hot Dish

2 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil, divided
4 medium potatoes, scrubbed and diced (1/4-inch dice)
kosher salt and fresh cracked pepper
1 pound ground turkey (light or dark, or a mixture of the two)
1 1/2 cups leeks, trimmed and sliced thinly into half-moons
1 cup celery, sliced thinly into half-moons
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 teaspoon celery seed
1 teaspoon herbs de Provence
2 cups chicken stock
2/3 cup milk
1/3 cup flour
1/4 cup finely shredded Parmigiano-Reggiano

Preheat oven to 425 degrees.  Butter a large baking dish (a gratin dish or 9×13-inch pan) and set aside.

Toss diced potatoes in 1 tablespoon of the oil and some salt and pepper, spread on a baking sheet and roast for 40 minutes, turning halfway through.  Reduce the oven heat to 350.

Meanwhile, heat the remaining tablespoon of oil in a heavy skillet or Dutch oven.  Add the ground turkey, a small pinch of salt and pepper, and cook until the turkey is nearly cooked through.  Add the leeks, celery,  garlic, celery seed, herbs de Provence and a pinch of salt and pepper; saute for several minutes until softened.

Add 1/2 cup chicken stock to the pan. Place the flour in a small bowl, and whisk in the milk. Add milk mixture to pan, stirring constantly. Gradually add remaining chicken stock; cook 8 minutes or until mixture thickens.

Pour the turkey mixture into the buttered dish.  Top with the roasted potatoes and grated parmesan.  Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes, until the top is golden brown.

Growing up, my mother really knew her way around a pound of ground beef.  And I mean that as high praise.  She could come home from work, bone tired, and unsheath a pound of ground beef (you know the packages—with the colored foam trays and snug-fitting plastic wrap) and have dinner on the table in no time flat.

Ground beef featured prominently in many of the kid-friendly recipes in my mom’s repertoire: chili, goulash, tater tot hot dish, spaghetti sauce, taco filling and, perhaps best of all, sloppy joes.  I suppose, then, it’s no surprise that one of the things that I remember learning in the kitchen was how to brown ground beef, seasoning it with salt and pepper and letting it sizzle away in a skillet.

I learned how to make my mom’s sloppy joes early on—and this recipe is a twist on it.  We all had our particular way of eating my mom’s sloppy joes.  I preferred them—oxymoronically—to be as neat as possible: a small dallop on a bun’s lower half, drizzled with yellow mustard and capped securely with the bun’s top half.  My sister—on the other hand—quite enjoyed the fun of the “sloppy” aspect of the sandwiches.  My mom liked to forego the bun, spooning a heap of the filling on her plate and scooping up her bites using rippled, Old Dutch potato chips.

When my mom married my stepdad (who brought many of his gourmet tendencies and recipes along with him, but—wonder of wonders—loved sloppy joes as much as the rest of us), he took his sloppy joes open faced, using the edge of his fork as a makeshift knife to section off mouthfuls.

Somewhere in my teens, in addition to developing a severe case of bratiness, contracting boy craziness and suffering through an unfortunate impromptu dye job (red, in honor of my hero of the moment, Clare Danes’ Angela Chase), I also swore off red meat.  Which meant the end of sloppy joes.

But, now I realize, it shouldn’t have.  Because they’re perfectly delicious with ground turkey.   And that’s what I’ve used in this recipe for sloppy joes.  I’ve since come back around to beef, but I usually use ground turkey or chicken over beef.  Maybe someday I’ll be known as the kind of lady who knows her way around a pound of ground poulty.With this recipe, I’m well on my way.

Turkey Sloppy Joes
Adapted from Everyday Food

Printable Recipe

1 tablespoon olive oil
4 carrots, coarsely grated (2 cups)
2 ribs of celery, finely chopped
1 medium onion, minced
1 garlic clove, minced
Coarse salt and ground pepper
3 tablespoons tomato paste
3/4 pound ground turkey (93% lean, dark meat)
1 can (28 ounces) crushed tomatoes
2 tablespoons dark-brown sugar
1 tablespoon cider vinegar
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
4 good-quality hamburger rolls, split

In a large saucepan, heat oil over medium; add carrots, celery, onion, and garlic. Season with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, 4 to 5 minutes.

Add tomato paste and cook, stirring, 1 minute. Add turkey; cook, breaking up meat with a spoon, until no longer pink, 4 to 5 minutes.

Add tomatoes, sugar, vinegar, and Worcestershire sauce. Cook, stirring occasionally, until slightly thickened, 12 to 14 minutes. Serve on rolls.

Do you have recipes that have you convinced that the dish is healthy, virtuous, practically spa-worthy because it involves a certain ingredient? Because I’ve got tons of them. Come summer, the turkey burger is at the top of that list. Swap out the ground sirloin for ground turkey and, voila, you’re on a diet! Never mind the fact that the generous canopy of cheese, the giant bun and the smears of condiments remain. It’s a turkey burger: eat it with reckless abandon.

Teasing aside, I don’t just make these turkey burgers because they lessen the guilt. They also happen to be delicious. I’ve played around with the technique for a while (okay, fine, practically once a week, but who’s counting?) and I’ve come to a few conclusions. They are these: (1) do not overwork the meat; (2) add to the meat some minced onion or shallot as well as some flat-leaf parsley or cilantro, which will prevent the burgers from drying out; (3) account for shrinkage on the grill: shape your patties into rounds that are larger that the surface area of the buns you’re using; (4) cheese: use it, preferably a sharp or smoked cheddar.

(Click “more” for the rest of the story, more photos & the recipe.)

My current favorite version has a southwest flare: minced chipotles and cilantro in the burgers themselves, smoked cheddar, and a chipotle-flecked sauce (that kinda looks like “special sauce,” I know; but please trust that it’s tasty). You can see it peaking out beneath the bun in this photo, which was taken earlier this summer (and looks a little dizzy; sorry):

Give these a try at your next BBQ. You’ll thank me later: at least for making you feel virtuous.

Chipotle Turkey Burgers

1 1/4 pounds ground turkey breast
1 shallot, minced
1 garlic clove, minced
2 tablespoons cilantro, minced
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon fresh-cracked black pepper
4 slices of smoked cheddar
1 small red onion, sliced into 1/4-inch thick rings
1 large tomato, sliced into 1/4-inch thick rounds
1 cup baby arugula or spinach
1/4 cup chipotle “ketchup” (recipe below)
Dijon mustard
4 hamburger buns (I usually use whole-wheat), split open

Prepare the grill.

Combine the turkey, shallot, garlic and cilantro, mixing gently with your hands (take care not to overwork). Score the meat into four equal portions and shape the portions into patties (make the patties slightly larger than the surface area of your buns). Sprinkle both sides of the patties with the salt and pepper. Grill the turkey burgers for 5 to 8 minutes per side, or until cooked through. When the burgers are almost done grilling, place a slice of cheese on top of each patty (the cheese will melt as the burgers finish grilling). Also place the buns, cut sides down, on the grill to toast; remove when lightly browned.

Serve the grilled patties and toasted buns along with the remaining fixings.

Chiptole “Ketchup”

1 chipotle pepper (canned in adobo sauce), minced
1 tablespoon adobo sauce (from the canned chipotles)
2 tablespoone sour cream or Greek yogurt
juice of one lime
salt, to taste

Whisk together the chipotle pepper, adobo sauce, sour cream and lime juice in a small bowl. Add salt to taste. [Note: this mixture can be combined in a 1:1 ratio with ketchup for a more “ketchupy” result. As is, the recipe will yield more of a creamy chipotle spread. Just don’t want to mislead anyone with the recipe name …}

I’ve mentioned many times that my sister, Kevin and I have a little weekly tradition that we like to call Family Dinner. But really, we might as well call it “Expanding Ali’s Palate” night. Because somewhere along the line, we went from making crowd pleasers like pizza to subjecting my sister to crazy ideas like salmon, coq au vin and falafel. And, can I tell you something? She loves it. Just last night, I stuck a bowl of fava bean dip (no, I didn’t take photos and yes, I’m sorry) in front of her and she fearlessly dove in and proclaimed it “better than hummus,” which is very high praise indeed.

Not only does she seem to like all these new dishes, but she even requests that we make some of them twice. After Falafel Part I, we took falafel in a new direction with a spring pea falafel recipe (again, no pictures and, again, my apologies). But after we first made these turkey meatballs—about which Ali was way more than a little squeamish, at first—she wanted no variations. She wanted an exact replica. And, knowing me all too well (and thus knowing that repeats are not really my thing), she gently reminded me that I hadn’t even blogged about them the first time around. Well played, Ali.

(Click “more” for the rest of the story, more photos & the recipe.)

So we re-made the exact same meatballs. But, this time around, I tucked them in a crusty roll, swathed in a mixture of marinara and melty cheese. The first go-round, we went Lady and the Tramp style, with a huge platter of spaghetti, which I can also highly recommend. In sandwich form, Ali was a big fan. I’m starting to think that her eager reception to all the new-and-different is just the byproduct of Lean Cuisine fatigue. Whatever it is, I’ll take it.

Turkey-Sun Dried Tomato Meatballs
Adapted from Everyday Pasta by Giada De Laurentiis

1 teaspoon olive oil
2 ounces pancetta, finely diced
1/2 yellow onion, finely diced
1 pound ground turkey (preferably dark meat)
1/2 cup freshly grated Romano cheese
1/4 cup chopped fresh flat leaf parsley
1/4 cup plain bread crumbs
1/4 cup chopped sun-dried tomatoes
2 eggs, lightly beaten
3/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 450. Heat the olive oil in a medium skillet over medium heat. Add the pancetta and cook for two minutes. Add the onion and continue to cook, until the pancetta is crisp and the onion is tender, about 4 minutes more. Remove from the heat and let cool.

In a large bowl, combine the pancetta and onion mixture with the remaining ingredients and stir to combine. Form the turkey mixture into balls, about 2 inches in diameter. Place on a foil-lined and greased baking sheet. Bake for 20 minutes.

Serve with your favorite marinara tucked in a sandwich, crowning a platter of spaghetti or with dainty toothpicks, as an appetizer.

It’s my belief that, by and large, people of my generation don’t really do meatloaf. It’s not that we have anything against eating our meat in less-than-natural shapes. Many of the proteins of our childhoods came in a shaped fashion: nuggets (as in the “Mc” kind) and sticks (fish), for example. And while I may have outgrown these shapes, I still enjoy meatballs and all manner of burger patties.

But the loaf? Not so much. This comes as a great shock and disappointment to my parents, who eagerly anticipate very regular meatloaf nights—a tradition they hatched pretty much the instant both my sister and I moved out of the house. While my parents’ love of the loaf form, along with the comfort food craze a few years back, make it clear that a segment of the population adores meatloaf, I’ve just had a hard time getting all that excited about it.

(Click “more” for the rest of the story, more photos & the recipe.)

But, this blog makes me do the unthinkable, apparently. In the quest to cook everything but (forgive me, please) The Kitchen Sink, meatloaf crept onto my “must cook” list around mid-winter. Since then, I’ve been looking for a recipe that involved little or no ketchup, a condiment with which I have an on-again/off-again relationship (right now, we’re off). With that very tiny goal, I came up empty. Zilch. Zero. Apparently the all-American condiment is somewhat of an essential ingredient. So, I opted for a recipe that only involved a wee bit of ketchup. And one that featured ground turkey, rather than beef. And, though I was originally drawn to recipes using oats, I settled on one that called for panko instead.

Given the updated recipe and my open mind, I am happy to report that I am now officially a fan of meatloaf. Well, at least this meatloaf, which was tender and juicy and lightly dense and flavorful. We barely ate one mini loaf between the two of us, so I’m excited to build a meatloaf sandwich with the leftovers … Did I really just say that? My parents must be beaming with pride.

Turkey Meatloaf
The Martha Stewart Show

2/3 cups panko (Japanese) breadcrumbs
1/2 cup milk
3 pounds lean (7 percent) ground turkey, preferably organic
1 medium onion, finely chopped
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons ketchup
1/4 cup chopped flat-leaf parsley
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon coarse salt
1 teaspoon rubbed sage
1/2 teaspoon pepper

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Place panko and milk in a large bowl; stir until well combined. Let stand 5 minutes.

Add turkey, onions, eggs, 1/4 cup ketchup, parsley, mustard, salt, sage, and pepper to breadcrumb mixture. Gently mix until well combined. Transfer mixture to a 9 3/4-inch-by-5 3/4-inch loaf pan.* Brush top with remaining 2 tablespoons ketchup.

Transfer meatloaf to oven and bake, draining any accumulated juices as necessary, until it reaches 165 degrees on an instant-read thermometer, 1 1/2 to 1 3/4 hours.* Serve immediately or use to prepare sandwiches.

* I halved the recipe and used two mini loaf pans. I baked them at 350 for about about 45 minutes, which is about how long it took for them to reach 165 degrees.