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somethin’ on the side

…but made for a woman.

My someone special had to work this Saturday morning, so I had free reign over his entire apartment. Of course, my stomach immediately directed me to the kitchen. I was told that “believe it or not, there is food” but that I may have to “look for it”. This was the most truth I had heard all week.

There was a packet of Knorr Rice Sides in the cabinet, something that could move on to bigger and better things. There were also frozen mixed veggies, which, alone, are lifeless but tolerable when disguised among other ingredients. There were also eggs that were well past their expiration date, a reality I so conveniently ignored.

These three sad items were salvation from my late-morning brunch craving.

Prepare the rice according to the package’s directions. (You could always use leftover rice, but you’ll have to add seasoning, and, quite frankly, this post can’t help you with that.) Transfer to a hot pan with canola oil and fry the rice until crispy and dark golden brown throughout. Dump in thawed frozen veggies and stir to heat through. Pour in a beaten egg or two and stir until just cooked, about one minute.

You shouldn’t have to do much more than that, since the rice contains a hell of a lot of sodium and other junk to make it taste like “chicken” (or cheddar and broccoli or beef or mushroom…). Perhaps a slosh of hot sauce would finish this off quite nicely.

I wolfed down more than I’d care to admit, and welcomed my S.S. with the remains. His response? “Is there any more?”

No, sorry.

A birthday celebration with my best friends from high school usually involves a high level of ethanol and specific foods fit for eating after a night of dancing and drinking. These foods are generally rich in saturated fats that plagues you with great guilt the next day.

Keeping this in mind, I made one of my best friends’ favorites to satisfy our cravings and alleviate some of the morning-after shame: French onion dip. This recipe replaces the sour cream with non-fat plain Greek yogurt, retaining creaminess and cutting much of the fat.

Caramelize sliced onions in oil and season with S & P. During the last minute of cooking, add minced garlic. Remove from the pan and cool. Once the onions have come to room temperature, combine with mayonnaise, yogurt and chopped fresh parsley. Season with lemon juice and S & P, to taste.

Refrigerate for at least two hours or overnight. This dip gets better with time, and you’d never notice that it contains half the fat of traditional French onion dip.

So whether or not you eat these in your underwear, your booty will thank you in the morning.

Strange, but addictive. I rinsed a can of chick peas, dried them well, and tossed with a touch of canola oil, salt and a bunch of spices from the bowels of my cabinet, including curry powder and cayenne pepper. Roasted them in a 450-degree Fahrenheit oven for about 30 minutes, until they were crisp outside and tender inside.

The result was a curiously tasty snack that would compliment happy hour. They will not help your hangover, though, as they are not so good the next day.

Roasted chi chi beans are a good snack to have if you’re trying to watch your figure (though, if that’s the case, I reluctantly have to suggest consuming them sans happy hour libations).

One of the most essential concepts I’ve been studying in culinary school is the art of sauce making. Jax Past would scorn at the very idea of a sauce, believing that taking short cuts would yield just as good a product. Jax Present knows better. Jax Present understands that a sauce deserves as much attention–or perhaps more–than the thing with which it will be paired. Many sauces require time to develop each layer of flavor that will eventually come together as something else entirely.

I recently prepared pork loin with a grainy mustard sauce. Unfortunately, the pork was too dry for my taste, but thankfully I had lovingly nurtured several raw ingredients into a sauce that made up for the protein failure.

In a large saucepan, brown roughly chopped carrots, celery and onions over high heat, stirring occasionally. Once the vegetables have caramelized, pour stock (homemade is preferred, but in this instance I was only able to use store-bought, low-sodium chicken broth) into the pan and reduce over medium heat. (At this point, you can add any herbs you’d like, as well as crushed garlic.)

Once the sauce has reduced by about half, strain through a fine-mesh strainer (or a colander lined with paper towels or cheese cloth). Wipe down the sauce pan and add a pat of butter. Sprinkle in finely minced shallots and cook gently to avoid any color development. Add a generous splash of white wine and reduce until it has almost completely evaporated. Pour the reduced stock into the pan, stir in grainy mustard and a touch of heavy cream and reduce further, until the sauce coats the back of a spoon. Season with S & P to taste.

Jax Future will absolutely make this sauce, and so should you. Serve over any protein you’d like (but I think pork works particularly well, so long as it’s not mutilated), preferably without pants.

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.