ENTREES

ENTREES

Sherry’s Most Perfectest Lasagna Ever (With A Secret Ingredient)

I've never been a huge fan of lasagna. I think that this dates back to a mild trauma when I was thirteen and announced that henceforth I would be a vegetarian, or at least until I changed my mind and wanted a hamburger one day (which did actually end up happening). My mother's reaction to this news was to completely ignore me and continue sneaking meat into meals anyway. She made her "special lasagna" frequently during this period, and it was a solid two years before she admitted that the "mushrooms" had, in fact, been...well, not mushrooms. (I was apparently not the most observant teenager.)

But apart from my mother's egregious conduct, I feel like lasagna should be more amazing than it usually is. I mean, it's layered pasta, cheese, and sauce. How could that not be absolutely perfect, every time? Except far too often I find lasagna has too much of one thing, and not enough of another. I want my lasagna to be red sauce-y, and cheesy, and otherwise uncomplicated by unnecessary additions like, say, peppers (BLECH).

For our girls' weekend in Tahoe, each of us was assigned a meal to prepare. This was Alisa's mom's friend Sherry's dish, and it was the best lasagna I have ever, ever, ever tasted (sorry, mom). The secret ingredient? A touch of cheddar cheese. I'm aware that that doesn't sound like a good idea, but this lasagna was transcendent. So you're going to have to trust me.

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Cacio E Pepe (And Some Seething)

Me, ten million years ago.

Many things about me have changed over the years that I've been writing this blog. My interest in wearing high heels, for example. My waist size. My willingness to stay awake past the hour of 9PM.

One thing that has never, ever, ever changed - the tenet to which I have held steadfast, in vocal and furious opposition to any and all attempts to sway me:

ENTREES

Before Summer Ends

'Tis almost the day when the grill gets covered up for the cold months, and all that lovely fresh corn disappears from the shelves (or becomes terrifying and inedible, as evidenced by the fact that the corn I bought at Trader Joe's yesterday had actual, living CATERPILLARS in it, and if you think I screamed like Ghostface himself was hanging out inside that husk, you would be correct).

So here are ten recipes that I think you should make lickety-split, before you encounter any surprise beasties of your own in the fresh produce section.

P.S. I've run through my reader recipes from the last go-round, so if you have any suggestions - especially fall favorites - I'm all ears.

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Gonna Just Call This “Jordan Pasta”

I've been posting recipes to the Internet for nearly ten years. And the fact that I have never posted the one recipe I make more than any other - I literally make it once a week at minimum - is...weird, to say the least. But what happens is that every time I make it and think, "Oh, I should take some shots and post about this!" I figure come on, suuuurely I already have, and so then I just go ahead and eat it.

Except last night I did a quick search on my site while I was stirring the sauce, and: nope. I've never posted it. (Why it took me this many years to "do a quick search while stirring the sauce" is a question I cannot answer for you.)

This recipe is technically named for my son, but ok, I'll tell you the truth: I named it after my son because he loves it, yeah yeah, but mostly because love it, and now whenever I make it I get to seem like an amazing parent who is making her son's favorite meal for dinner while actually eating...my favorite meal. (Very selfless over here.)

ENTREES

Reader Recipe: Four-Ingredient Chili Chicken Tacos

Which one do you want? That one. And that one. And that one.

Noritake China Blue Hammock Serving Dish

I do not eat tacos. I will, on occasion, eat a burrito (and only "on occasion" because if I were to eat burritos as often as I would like to, I would become a burrito myself), but hard-shell tacos aren't something that's ever appealed to me. Don't they, like, break apart into tiny, shard-like pieces which then a) hurt you and b) result in the deliciousness inside getting out, which, as I gather, is not the point?


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