My Pretty Kitty, Layers of Friendship & Lasagna

“A Friend is one who incessantly pays us the compliment of expecting from us all the virtues, and who can appreciate them in us.”
― Henry David Thoreau

January 24^th, 2012

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bruLafuiu80&feature=related 

My lungs are still speaking in tongues of mucus but in general, I feel alive . . which is to say that yesterday, I felt somewhat dead.  The sun is shining brightly, burning away the excess moisture that has accumulated over these past few days of rain and although I didn’t make it to the gym this morning – I do believe I have the courage to make an afternoon run.

Sheliqua Veroquat (aka: Shelley, Kitty, Mittens, Lovebug) is a good friend.  A new friend in the sense that I’ve only known her for a Quaker’s quilt of time (a little over a year), but oh how we’ve naturally and expeditiously grown inward and outward over that time period.  After all, it was she alone that took it upon herself to make certain my 35^th birthday did not go uncelebrated as we clambered westward in her aging, forest green Subaru; a fantastic road trip to the Scotch pine forests of Idyllwild.  Numerous bottles of champagne were drunk without care or remorse, gourmet meals forged from way over-priced firewood and a feeble attempt to teach my beloved Veroquat the game of Uker – blissfully consumed as a pair of parakeets we were! There are only so many friends in this world that there is an equal exchange without pretension, assumption or conflicted emotion.  Sheliqua & Scotty are fortunate to possess such an exotic  friendship.  I’m very proud of my little Washington State transplant, a recent divorcee that scrounging to make ends meet as she paves her way through a Microbiology career in earnest attempt to create something new for herself.  We both are hell bent on a better life, survivors of transformation and intent on "cashing in" on our karma – laughter before tears, we will conquer all obstacles . . . this is a friendship that will withstand the sands of time.

What makes a good friend?  When pondering this question I am drawn immediately to the words: selfless, gratitude, respect, trust, patience, generosity, kindness . . .  I have been blessed with so many beautiful people in my life and the most recent trials have certainly exposed those true to their nature, those that would have me as penniless before constituent of fortune, those who would answer that call when nobody else could even hear the ringer, those that cherish me just as much for my weaknesses as my strengths.  Integrity!  That’s one that I had forgotten to mention!  Oh, boy how integrity plays such a part of true friendship for if one is not solidly founded in morals & ethics than how else are they to equally contribute to another?

My "revised" team is one of stability, sound reason and logic – Dad would be proud.  My family is my structurally uplifting spine as my friends are my biceps, my hamstrings, my tendons that pull and push me through the day to day transactions of living.  I alone own my heart and while it still aches a bit of lost love . . . it has enough responsibility in keeping the rest of things moving along, pumping the oxygenated blood  throughout my body, sustaining the most basic of purposes, preoccupied with so many involuntary tasks that the emotional desires fall short of any immediate necessity.  Hell, I’ve got to get rid of this mucus before investing such stock in the concept of true love again - tell then, I'm more than gratified with my beloved family & friends.

A recipe for friendship could entail some classic comfort cuisine, it could take you back to collegiate years of gourmet deposed ramen noodles, it could recollect a moment of poptarts & champagne on a sunrise that arrived a day early . . or was it that we just hadn’t made it to bed yet?  I give you lasagna which certainly qualifies as the piece de resistance of layered love.  Make it the day before & serve up with some garlic cheese bread and Caesar salad – a simple meal for you & those closest to your heart.

With Culinary Blessings,

                   Chef Scotty, Richard the III, Cletus to some,  Fool to others & Friend . . well they know!

Basic Lasagna Template

There’s no point in me adding my own secret twists here as Lasagna is just one of those things that you follow your own intuition.  Much like friendship, it is what you put into it and even better with a good bottle of red vino.

Ingredients

• 1 pound sweet Italian sausage
• 3/4 pound lean ground beef
• 1/2 cup minced onion
• 2 cloves garlic, crushed
• 1 (28 ounce) can crushed tomatoes
• 2 (6 ounce) cans tomato paste
• 2 (6.5 ounce) cans canned tomato sauce
• 1/2 cup water
• 2 tablespoons white sugar
• 1 1/2 tablespoons dried basil leaves (or ¼ C. fresh basil)
• 1 tablespoon fennel seeds
• 2 tablespoons Italian seasoning
• 1 tablespoon salt
• 1 teaspoon ground black pepper
• 4 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
• 12 lasagna noodles
• 16 ounces ricotta cheese
• 1 egg
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 3/4 pound mozzarella cheese, sliced
• 3/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese

Directions

1. Over medium heat cook sausage, ground beef, onion, and garlic over medium heat until well browned. Stir in crushed tomatoes, tomato paste, tomato sauce, and water. Season with sugar, basil, fennel seeds, Italian seasoning, 1 tablespoon salt, pepper, and 2 tablespoons parsley. Simmer, covered, for about 1 1/2 hours, stirring occasionally.
2. Bring a large pot of lightly salted water to a boil. Cook lasagna noodles in boiling water for 8 to 10 minutes. Drain noodles, and rinse with cold water. In a mixing bowl, combine ricotta cheese with egg, remaining parsley, and 1/2 teaspoon salt.
3. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C).
4. To assemble, spread 1 1/2 cups of meat sauce in the bottom of a 9x13 inch baking dish. Arrange 6 noodles lengthwise over meat sauce. Spread with one half of the ricotta cheese mixture. Top with a third of mozzarella cheese slices. Spoon 1 1/2 cups meat sauce over mozzarella, and sprinkle with 1/4 cup Parmesan cheese. Repeat layers, and top with remaining mozzarella and Parmesan cheese. Cover with foil: to prevent sticking, either spray foil with cooking spray, or make sure the foil does not touch the cheese.
5. Bake in preheated oven for 25 minutes. Remove foil, and bake an additional 25 minutes. Cool for 15 minutes before serving.

It's on the Books! Penny for your Worries, Worshorseshire Sauce

“I do believe in simplicity. It is astonishing as well as sad, how many trivial affairs even the wisest thinks he must attend to in a day; how singular an affair he thinks he must omit. When the mathematician would solve a difficult problem, he first frees the equation of all incumbrances, and reduces it to its simplest terms. So simplify the problem of life, distinguish the necessary and the real. Probe the earth to see where your main roots run. ”
― Henry David Thoreau

January 15^th,  2012

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dlr90NLDp-0

It’s still Friday the 13^th but a lot of some nothing has happened – but it’s good stuff.  The judge has set a trial date, which means . . . . there is an end to the madness.  My mind is now reprieved of the constant weight of this overshadowing debacle – or so I shall like to think as the Gregorian Chant settles those background noises with stern secular clarity; the orators channeling angelic influence . . . or simply a monk & num medley of a chorus reciting Latin?   

Freedom comes in many forms but it is more a state of mind in our American society than any environmental precedence (ie: tyranny in 3^rd world countries).  I guess I could highlight the numerous “viral marketing” articles regarding the freedom of homosexuality with the GOP going on but really, I don’t see it as that big of an issue.  Maybe that makes me a moron amongst my people but I see our global warming and destruction of the planet as the number one cause to action.  After all, depleting our resources & raping Mother Nature is ultimately nothing more than tearing down the foundation of earth, walls of trees, the foliage of furniture coverings . . . and with no home – it really doesn’t matter what creed, color, sexual orientation you’re sporting – we’ll all be dead!  So long as we’re on this topic, I’ve always believed that this “gay gene” (whether habitat or humanity) is nothing more than a reversed state of natural selection.  In case you don’t remember that term from Biology 101:

NATURAL SELECTION:  the process by which forms of life having traits that better enable them to adapt to specific environmental pressures, as predators, changes in climate, or competition for food or mates, will tend to survive and reproduce in greater numbers than others of their kind, thus ensuring the perpetuation of those favorable traits in succeeding generations.

Compare survival of the fittest.

Basically the theory in my mind:  if we don’t breed our numbers of infestation will go down thus forth potentially lessening our individual consumption of the planets resources.  If that fails, Mama Tierra will likely unleash a virus that doesn’t come by choice (ie: AIDS), more like the bubonic plague!  All of this, on the edge of the Mayan 2012 prediction and I have to wait to get my dividends out of my businesses.  -Sigh-  I have to trust in the universes schedule and align myself with a sense of purpose.  Let go of this provocative journey Scotty!  Ditch the 1,283 suitcases of weighted baggage, bolt from the airport, and find yourself a lookout above common ground to etch out some semblance of a plan.  Disoriented Putz would be a fair assessment of me in my most recent isocracie – I have seemingly misplaced the “S T”  in “S T A B I L I T Y”

Adding on to the previous entries a wee bit late -  it’s now Sunday & I do believe that I just certified my prior assumptions in naming myself as an idiot.  Excuses are really not in repertoire of rationalizing ideas, henceforth I will simply do as I always do . . . forgive myself, let an occasional laugh waft through my surrounding silence in honor of my foolishness and rest up – this is a process well beyond allocating “sleepy-time” and essentially involves multiple applications of recalibrating my mind, balancing out my body & stabilizing the many voices within that compose the essence of my soul.

At least my primary goal is beyond apparent – money, dividends, greenbacks, collateral, funds, capital, coin, mullah . . . my brokenness has reached that most humbling point when one must assess their coinage & either convert to bills (albeit one of those fancy machines at the grocery store) or shucking off those last layers of pride and with an assortment of copper pennies, nickels, dimes and even a few of those now cherished quarters and marching (on foot no less) to the convenience store in pursuit of the life’s only true necessity – cigarettes.  Regrettably, this is not the first time in my adult life that I have sunken to such a state of pathetic worth.  I count at least 5 times in the last ten years that I’ve had to succumb to currency as the primary means of payment; this most embarrassing disposition is at it’s pinnacle of shame when one has no alternative but to pull-over to a gas station (riding on fumes), and finagle $1.33 out of the interior car crevices . . and then throw down that change in front of a line of customers (hope that you at least drive a shitty vehicle & are still sporting your pj’s).  Obviously, the lesson here is more simple than not . . . I’ve been here before, humbled to the righteous core and yet I survived, thus forth one would presume that this too – I shall survive.

With Culinary Blessings,

               Chef Scotty

Chef Scotty’s “Worshorseshire” Sauce:

An experiment in it’s own right – Worcestershire sauce is a staple in our Western World (not an easy to task to accomplish with such a difficult name).  My version is bumped up a wee bit but still relevant to the original recipe.

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 6 cups coarsely chopped onions
• 4 serranos, with stems and seeds, chopped
• 2 tablespoons minced garlic
• 2 tablespoons freshly ground pepper
• 4 (2-ounce) cans anchovy fillets (or an 8-ounce can), drained of oil
• 1/2 teaspoon allspice berry
• 2 tablespoons salt
• 2 whole, medium lemons, skin and pith removed
• 4 cups dark corn syrup
• 2 cups 100 percent Pure Cane Syrup
• 2 quarts distilled organic apple cider vinegar
• 4 cups water
• 3/4 pound fresh horseradish, peeled and grated
• 3 pint-sized canning jars

Combine the oil, onions and jalapenos in a large stockpot over high heat. Cook, stirring, until slightly soft, 2 to 3 minutes. Add the garlic, pepper, anchovy fillets, cloves, salt, lemons, corn syrup, cane syrup, vinegar, water and horseradish and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer uncovered, stirring occasionally, until the mixture barely coats a wooden spoon, about 6 hours. Strain into a clean container.

Worcestershire Sauce may be stored in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 1 month, or processed as directed below and kept for up to 1 year.

Sterilize 3 pint-sized jars and their metal lids according to the manufacturer's instructions. Spoon the hot mixture into the jars, filling to within 1/2-inch of the rim. With a clean, damp towel, wipe the rims and fit with a hot lid. Tightly screw on the metal ring. Place, without touching, on a rack in a large, deep canning kettle or stockpot of rapidly boiling water; water should cover the jars by 1-inch. Boil and process for 15 minutes. Using tongs, remove the jars, place on a towel and let cool completely before storing. Test the seals and tighten the rings as needed. Store in a cool, dark place for at least 2 weeks before using. After opening, store jars in the refrigerator.

A Wham, Bam Whopper Fan, I've got the Moves, A Sonnet of Shrimp Ceviche

"Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.” -Thoreau

December 27th, 2011

I ate McDonalds. Please forgive me as my quench to forgive my hangover exceeded the chef code of culinary principles & anti fast-food ethics. The gratification to my palette was less than satisfactory, but at least the fermented agave elixir lining my stomach was now fortified with good old’ fashioned Mickey-D’s saturated fats & patented triglycerides. I was always a chicken nugget with barbecue sauce kind of kid, but it wasn’t too often that we got to visit the clown’s joint – Dad wouldn’t have it, “No, we’re not eating that crap! Burger King is the only one that grills their burgers.” And so we’d forego the Big Mack for a Whopper all the time wishing it was Mom who at the wheel.

A long ass night with one damn long drive, I touched down in Los Angeles at 1:15am this morning after having catering an event in Palm Springs. I must be slipping back into the groove as I was about 87.4% happy with my timing, cooking & plating presentation – a big advancement from Fridays affair at the same house (I’m not one to scapegoat but on Friday I had “Mitilda the Moron Maid” as my only assistant and really, she should stick with Panda Express & Bubbilicious bubblegum). As for the three hour drive there and back? A journey as such provides one that solitary opportunity to really delve within and turn the channel in an endless search for the right tune, adjusting the volume to personal preference as the crisp desert air comes streaming through the window and Journey belt’s out “don’t stop believing” . . . jiving to the catchy beats until that annoying commercial promoting the latest and greatest Fat burner Pill steals your karaoke moment (I hardly needed any reminders of my late lunch selection). Somewhere between here & bum’fk nowhere, a thought occurred to me - as this journal is cause to share inspiration in all of its many forms, as I’m attempting to encourage you to explore self-awareness beyond the outlet of a kitchen . . . “we should include a song with each daily journal entry”

I’ve referenced my love for dancing before, but what is dancing without the music? I'd rather not try to make something out of nothing; your basic bass thumping will adequately suffice . . but it oh, how it can be so much more! What is music? It’s that billboard top charts song that you’ve assigned to your most recent love escapade, it’s that heart break melody that you’ve added to a repertoire of “let go’s” and it’s that elevating tune that was blasting over the gymnasium befuddled sound system as your team celebrated winning the first game of the season. Music has a way with our emotions –and why shouldn’t it? As much damage as mankind does it is our artistic creations that stand out as our pinnacles of potential. The chain of music extends deep into a series of artists aspiring to translate their talent into a profession.

At the conception, you have a song writer etching out the words to a love lullaby, the verses of sadness & loss, or the often harsh jibberish of street scene living. Then there is the composer who actually writes out the hieroglyphic notes applicable to any assortment of musical instruments, which brings us to those amazing individuals that followed their broke-ass Peter Pan flute dreams. Of course, there’s the lead singer & band who applies their uniqueness to the ballad and whence the song is consecrated, the album composition finalized, the CD cover drafted . . there is the dramatic concert performance involving theatrics, choreographers, lighting specialists - all acts placating to world of creative energy. The moment concludes with the fan – just like all of the preparations for an amazing dinner touched with a chef’s personality . . . it is that simple enjoyment and appreciation for an artistic production created by the hand of man. Cathedrals in the sky, Monet impressions, Billy Joel keyes . . we can be quite amazing when we choose to be!

And we conclude with some beckoned interaction here - I am open to your song suggestions that are most applicable to one of my past journal entries (I’m going to clean-them up a bit to our finalized “blog format”). Your input and participation are greatly valued as a guest at the dinner table . . . I might be scene whistling to the tune of my own beat , but we share the common dance floor of life. It’s up to you to decide if you want to join me, the tempo vibrating, the bass pulsating, the emotional triggers transporting one to an ethereal state . . you’re out of your body now, the feet shuffling to a different commander in chief, your hips swaying to the beat of freedom . . . let’s groove together baby cause I got's the moves like Jagger!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S1PL2oeqDTY
Back to the beat,
Chef Scotty

The Sonnet of Shrimp Ceviche
You’ll need some quality chips for this recipe or if you’re adventurous you can buy tortilla’s and fry up your own . . . a precursor party at your casa? The club calls to you like the lime calls to avocado – love making in a bowl, shake your booty and remember that salt is your best friend!

Ingredients
• 1 pound peeled and deveined medium shrimp
• 1 cup fresh lime juice
• 3 red bell peppers, diced
• 1 large red onion, diced
• 1 jalapeno pepper, seeded and minced, or to taste
• 1 mango, peeled and diced
• 2 avocados, diced (optional)
• 2 ribs celery, diced (optional)
• chopped fresh cilantro & mint to taste
• salt and pepper to taste

Directions
1. Place shrimp in a glass bowl and cover with lime juice to marinate (or 'cook') for about 10 minutes, or until they turn pink and opaque. Meanwhile, place the red bell pepper, onion, jalapeno & mango (and avocados and celery, if using) in a large, non-reactive (stainless steel, glass or plastic) bowl.
2. Remove shrimp from lime juice, reserving juice. Dice shrimp and add to the bowl of vegetables. Pour in the remaining lime juice marinade. Add cilantro and salt and pepper to taste. Toss gently to mix.