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Monthly Archives: October 2011

It’s not much of a secret, really. It’s just that few are committed enough to use the quantity of butter, salt and heavy cream that truly decadent mashed potatoes require.

(This photo was taken in hindsight, after the taters had cooled in the fridge. They taste better than they appear.)

Do this to starchy potatoes: peel, dice, put in pot, cover with cold water, boil, cook till tender, drain, mash. Now here’s the important part: add tons of butter, heavy cream and salt. Do it little by little, each time pushing the limits of fat and sodium. Just when you’re on the brink of insanity, that’s when you stop. The point is to taste buttery, creamy, salty potatoes, but not taste just heavy cream, butter and salt. The three elements should meld together to your tastes for indulgent mashed potatoes that rival any decent restaurant.

Here you have a blank canvas. For this potato side, I added freshly ground black pepper and squeezed in a whole head of roasted garlic. Feel free to do the same. And, as always, feel free to remove your pantaloons for this ultra-comfortable comfort food.

Whenever I buy celery, I wind up using two measly stalks and find the bunch weeks later, somewhere in the dark part of the refrigerator, flavorless and pliable. My celery intentions always begin pure, but I usually screw them up along the way.

Not this time.

No, this time I was going to let this fibrous vegetable shine in a simple side dish of braised celery. Cut the celery on a bias to the desired length. In a deep pan, heat a bit of butter and sear the celery on both sides. Once browned, add stock (I used chicken) to just cover the vegetables. Bring to a boil, reduce to a simmer and cover. Braise until the celery is cooked to your liking (I like it pretty soft).

Remove the celery and reduce the stock to thicken. Season to taste with S & P and pour over the celery.

Warning: This is a healthy recipe. You may find it’ll cause you to feel good about the way you look, and, subsequently, you may end up removing your pants. Go with it.

The candied bacon made in the previous post is as versatile as regular bacon. My friend and culinary classmate Sonia suggested making a cake ball of corn bread, rolled in maple frosting and topped with said candied bacon. She is a genius.

I did something a little simpler, but definitely worth trying. Make popcorn (the real way, on the stove. Or if you can find micrwave popcorn with no salt or flavorings, that’s fine, too) and toss with finely chopped fresh rosemary, melted butter and crumbled or diced candied bacon. Season with S&P to taste.

I don’t know who to thank for contrasting sweet with savory and balancing the two in a single dish. I can’t even take credit for inventing candied bacon. I can, however, claim responsibility for the candied bacon I made last night.

Lay bacon slices (I prefer thick-slice) on a cooling rack over a baking sheet. Sprinkle generously with brown sugar and freshly ground black pepper. Bake in a 425-degree Fahrenheit oven for 10-15 minutes, or until crispy.

This is a prime example of a food that demands you take off your pants. Eat the candied bacon alone or get creative and add to other recipes. (Tune in to tomorrow’s post where I tell you about my bacon popcorn experience.)