Menu Plan + Sausage+Mozzarella Pasta Recipe

I'm probably speaking to dead air, but I thought I'd start posting here again. I've got a few recipes I've begun making that I'd like to have handy here, so hopefully blogging once a year won't become a habit.

This week:

(In no particular order this time--scandalous!)

1) Beef and Broccoli Stir Fry

Sesame Noodles with cilantro

Homemade egg rolls or potstickers (I have both in the freezer, so we'll decide which sounds better that night.)

2) Hot Chicken Salad

Steamed Green Beans

3) Ham

Mashed Potatoes

Salad

4) This dish: (I have some lightening-up modifications in mind, but here it is as it was served to us at a friend's house a few weeks ago. It is her parents' recipe, and she was kind enough to share!)

Sausage & Mozzarella Pasta

1/4 cup unsalted butter

2 tbs olive oil

3/4 lb spicy Italian sausage, casing split & removed

4 medium garlic cloves, finely chopped

2 medium onions, coarsely chopped

1 28 ounce can whole tomatoes

1 cup heavy cream (whipping cream)

2 1/2 tbs dried oregano

2 tbs sugar

1 1/2 tbs tomato paste

1/2 tsp salt

2 bay leaves

1 lb mozzarella cheese, shredded

1 box Penne Pasta

In a large skillet, melt the butter with the oil over medium heat.

Crumble in the sausage, and the garlic and onions.

Saute until the sausage just begins to brown, 7 to 10 minutes.

Carefully, pour off the fat.

Add the tomatoes, breaking them up with your hands.

Stir in the cream, oregano, sugar, tomato paste, salt and bay leaves.

Gently boil until fairly thick, 15 to 20 minutes.

Remove the bay leaves and stir in the mozzarella cheese.

Simmer just until the cheese begins to melt, about 2 minutes.

Spoon over cooked pasta.

5) Scalloped Potatoes with Ham and Peas

We used to do leftovers on Saturdays. Well, not anymore. Sunday lunches were stressing me out--by the time we got home, our youngest two couldn't decide whether they were tired or hungry, or both, and were generally miserable. Now, I usually make something light on Saturday, or we rely on things like salads and sandwiches, and we save leftovers for Sunday afternoons. That way, we can come home, zap stuff in the microwave, and get the Littles in bed tout suite. Also, reserving leftovers for Sundays means we don't fall into the expensive "let's-just-grab-takeout" habit too often. I do enjoy having a nice family meal on Sundays, but I've come to realize that for our family, it's more about who we're eating with (ourselves! all at a table! together!) than what we're eating. The kids and Hubs don't care what they're eating, as long as it's tasty; I was the only one who wanted something traditional and fancy. But I also want sanity. So, at least for the foreseeable future, leftovers it is.

Spicy Orzo

A girl I know had cravings for Long John Silvers' hush puppies when she was pregnant. Ordinarily, this wouldn't seem odd. But she had, in fact, never eaten a hush puppy before in her life, so the sudden desire for them was inexplicable. It turned out that she loved them. Go figure.

I am no longer pregnant, but I can totally relate with the inexplicable-craving phenomenon. I once craved sweet-n-sour sauce even though I'd never had it before, and I, too, loved it. It was as if my taste buds had become ready for it and let me know when it was time. A similar thing happened with this dish: I woke up one morning craving orzo. I'd had orzo before, and all it is is rice-shaped pasta, so it was strange that I would crave orzo and not a pasta more familiar to me, like farfalle or rotini. But there it was: I HAD TO HAVE orzo.

Wouldn't you know it? I couldn't find orzo anywhere. I didn't think it was that uncommon of an item until I was craving it and couldn't find it in any store I visited. I even visited stores I don't usually frequent in the hope that they would carry these tiny little bits of pasta that were driving me slowly insane. They didn't.

Then some WEEKS later, when the craving had subsided, I was making my routine pass through the pasta aisle, and there they were, plain as day. Maybe they had been there all the time. I will never know. But I was still ready for them, so I purchased three boxes. I didn't want to be caught craving them with no recourse.

I still didn't know what I wanted to do with the orzo, but garlic sounded good. And butter. And my garden was exploding with basil; that sounded pretty good, too. And you know what else? Heat. Heat sounded good. When all is said and done, this recipe is probably closer to authentic Aglio e Olio than my actual Aglio e Olio recipe. But I think it works better here in this application with orzo than it would with any other pasta. The resulting dish is creamy, reminiscent of a risotto, with a lot of heat and flavor. AND it only takes about 12 minutes to make! Now, not only is the original orzo-something-or-other craving satisfied, but I've created a new item for me to crave. Let's get started, shall we?

Spicy Orzo

3 Tbsp. butter
2 cloves garlic, pressed or very finely chopped
1/8-1/4 tsp. dried red pepper flakes (depending on your preferred heat level)
ground black pepper
1 1/2 c. uncooked orzo
2 c. chicken stock or broth
1/2 c. grated Parmesan cheese
1/4 c. finely chopped fresh basil, or 1 Tbsp dried basil

Melt butter in a saucepan and add garlic, dried red pepper flakes, black pepper, and he dried basil (if using--if you're using fresh, WAIT.). Saute over low-ish medium heat for about 30 seconds, just to infuse the butter with the flavors, then add the orzo. Saute for about 2 minutes, stirring frequently.

Slowly pour the chicken stock into the orzo mixture, and bring to a boil. After it comes to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer, uncovered, for about 8 minutes, or until the stock is nearly absorbed and orzo is tender, stirring occasionally.

Remove from the heat, stir in parmesan and fresh basil (if using), and serve immediately. You may add a tablespoon or two of olive oil if you wish to keep the grains more separate or don't plan to serve it in the next three minutes.

Serves 4 as a side dish.

Pesto

Yet another entry from the "I Thought It Would Be Gross" files. I first had pesto on a sandwich called St. Basil's Delight at a cute little restaurant in Grand Rapids called The Brittany Cafe. Just down a block or two from my place of employment, "The Brit" was a frequent lunch destination for us. We had plenty of opportunity to try menu items, and I personally wouldn't have ordered this one on my own, but my colleague and roommate, Beth, ordered the St. Basil and let me try a bite. I believe I said something along the lines of, "Basil, where have you been all my life?" or "Humminahumminahummina."

Armed with the knowledge that I liked pesto, I felt confident ordering a pesto dish at another Grand Rapids restaurant, this time the Bistro Bella Vita. Bistro Bella Vita is a little swankier than The Brit, so the fact that the pesto/pasta dish was the cheapest thing on the menu also influenced my decision to order. Thankfully, this combination of roasted chicken, bow tie pasta, toasted pine nuts, and a pesto cream sauce was magically delicious. At that point, having tried pesto in a sandwich and on pasta, and having liked it quite well in both instances, I added pesto to the list of Things I Like to Eat, and began seeking it out.

It was only natural, then, that I would want to try to make my own pesto. This summer, with our garden full to bursting with basil, seemed the perfect time to try it. I used this recipe, and it did not disappoint--I've eaten pesto on various foodstuffs three times in the past week. And with the stockpile of pesto I've already frozen using this recipe, I plan to keep on enjoying it for a long time.

Pesto

1 garlic clove
1/4 c. pine nuts or walnuts, toasted in a dry skillet
1/2 c. grated parmesan cheese
2 c. basil leaves
kosher salt and pepper to taste
1/4-1/3 c. olive oil

In the bowl of a food processor, whirl the garlic clove (sometimes I use more cloves if they're small), nuts, cheese, and basil together until it forms a stiff paste. Then, with the blade running, drizzle in the olive oil until it forms a slightly less-thick paste.

Pesto is great on a sandwich or pizza. To use it with pasta, combine it with about 1/2 c. of the pasta cooking water to thin it out a bit, then toss it with the pasta, and serve.

Yum! Give it a try!

Go-To Mac 'n' Cheese

One of the first meals I ever ate with Abe's family included a favorite of his: Baked Mac 'n' Cheese. It's his grandma's recipe, and he has enjoyed it ever since fetus-hood. He would eat (and probably has) and entire pan of the stuff without blinking if the rest of the family, also ardent fans, allowed it. Alas, they do not. They all eat it with great gusto and appreciation.

I, on the other hand, eschewed mac 'n' cheese as a child. I wouldn't touch the stuff with a ten foot pole. (I'm sure my mother was pleased as punch about that. I also never cared for bologna or peanut butter and jelly, but that's better left for another post.) I never ate mac 'n' cheese until I was a starving college student, by which point either a) my taste buds had developed more fully, or b) my poverty-induced hunger and need for a cheap meal trumped my lactose intolerance and general dislike of cheese. Either way, I was a relative mac 'n' cheese newbie well into my adulthood, and when I did eat the stuff, it was usually the neon-orange stuff from the blue box (or its equally-orange but less-expensive generic counterpart) or other saucy versions.

So when I sat down to sample Abe's family's mac 'n' cheese, I was stymied; it looked simply like baked noodles. Plain baked noodles. Later, after inquiring after the recipe, I realized that it was in fact a closer relative to scalloped potatoes than the mac 'n' cheese that I knew and, well, tolerated. I personally found it to be fantastically mushy, indescribably bland, and altogether unsatisfying. This was apparently no problem with the rest of the family--they polished off the entire 9x13 dish in a matter of seconds without needing my help.

Well into our marriage, the subject of baked mac 'n' cheese was a hot-button one in our household. I told Abe that I'd make anything he liked to eat in the kitchen--except his grandma's baked mac 'n' cheese. Of course, that only meant that he'd ask for it more repeatedly. It took me a while, but I finally hit on this solution: I would make a dish that had all of the qualities I thought mac 'n' cheese should have, and would bake it to give Abe the satisfaction of having his requests met. When it comes down to it, this version is neither bland nor mushy, and it is really satisfying--even more than the kind with the bright orange cheese-flavored powder. So I'm totally satisfied by this incarnation, and as for Abe, well--who really cares? He's not cooking anything anytime soon.

I started with Alton Brown's version of Stove-Top Mac 'N' Cheese and modified it slightly--I doubled the amount of pasta, while leaving the rest of the ingredient list intact. And I only use a total of 8 oz. of shredded cheese, putting 4 oz. in the actual pasta, and sprinkling the rest on top before running it under a broiler on low to give the illusion of being baked. (Don't tell.)

So, thanks Alton, for the inspiration (and the recipe).

Go-To Mac 'n' Cheese

1 lb. penne pasta
4 Tbsp. butter
2 eggs
6 oz. evaporated milk
1/2 tsp. hot sauce
1 tsp. kosher salt
Fresh black pepper to taste
3/4 tsp. dry mustard
8 oz. shredded cheddar (or the cheese of your choice), divided

Cook the pasta in well-salted boiling water until JUST al dente. be very careful not to overcook (unless you like your noodles mushy like my husband does). Drain, and return to the pot, tossing with the butter until the pasta is coated and the butter is melted.

In a separate bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, hot sauce, salt, pepper, and mustard. Stir egg mixture into the pasta, add 4 oz. of the cheese, and put some low heat under your pot. Stir for about 3 minutes more, or until the sauce is creamy.

Spray a casserole dish with cooking spray (you'll thank me later) and add pasta to dish. Sprinkle remaining cheese over top of the pasta, and place under a broiler set at low* until the cheese is as golden brown as you like it.

*Note: if your broiler doesn't have high/low settings, just put the mac 'n' cheese on a really low rack in the oven, and watch it carefully so it doesn't burn. Or, you can actually bake it--I'd suggest about 25 minutes at 375 degrees, or, again, until it's as golden as you like. JUST MAKE SURE that your pasta isn't too done before you start baking, or else you're going to end up with mush during the baking process--the pasta will absorb much of the sauce. If you like it mushy, though, of course, proceed with all manner of overcooking. I will try not to judge.

Serves: I've never gotten an actual count of how many this could feed, since it generally just all gets eaten by Abe. As a side dish, though, I bet it could feed 6. But not in this household.

Stuffed Shells (Grusendini)

I had to double- and triple-check that I hadn't already posted this recipe, because it seems inconceivable that I haven't. This one, I love. It is a part of my childhood. It is a part of me.

Well, that may be overstating things a bit, but I do really, really enjoy these shells.

It had its naissance on Greenleaf Drive in Parma, Ohio. I was probably about 11 years old, and my family had been invited to my Principal's home for dinner. Mrs. Grusendorf, my principal's wife, presented with the challenge of preparing a filling meal for four adults and five children on a meager private school principal's salary, cooked up this delicious baked pasta dish. Now, it seems odd that we had never had these at our own house, for two reasons: 1)they're really simple to make, especially for my extremely talented home-ec major mother, and 2)they're pasta. But, for whatever reason, we had never had these before. We tasted them, and we loved them.

My father liked them so much, he had my mother ask for the recipe. Mrs. Grusendorf gave us the recipe, which she had simply entitled "Stuffed Shells," but my father, well, he is witty and thought the dish needed a jazzier name. So he christened the dish "Grusendini," in honor of the recipe donor, and the name stuck. Years later, when I asked my mom for the recipe so I could have it for my files, she was unclear about which recipe I was requesting until I said, " You know--Grusendini." And she gave me the recipe in a flash.

I'm making this recipe this week for my family, and 20 years after I first tried i, it is a kid- and man-pleasing family favorite. And I know it will be as tasty this week as it was that first night on Greenleaf Drive.

Grusendini

1/2 box large stuffing shells
1 lb. ground beef
1 medium onion, chopped
3/4 c. bread crumbs
1/2 c. Parmesan cheese
1/2 tsp. salt
pepper to taste
2 eggs, beaten
1 jar spaghetti sauce (or 2 cups of your homemade sauce)
1 cup shredded mozzarella cheese
Additional Parmesan cheese (optional)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Brown ground beef with onion until no pink remains. Set aside to cool for a few minutes.

Cook shells until just al dente; drain.

Combine ground beef with the bread crumbs, cheese, salt, pepper, and eggs. Mix well.

Cover the bottom of a 9x13 pan with a thin layer of sauce, just so the shells have a bed to sit on and so they won't get stuck to the pan. Using a spoon, stuff the meat mixture into shells, and arrange them in the pan. Top the shells with remaining sauce, taking care to coat all of the pasta with the sauce. Cover with foil and place in the preheated oven for about 3o minutes.

Remove shells from oven and sprinkle with mozzarella cheese and additional Parmesan, if desired. Return pan to oven until cheese is melted and browned to your liking.

Serves 6 (easily--these shells are filling!)

"Kind Of" Aglio e Olio (Pasta with Garlic and Oil)

Well, this recipe was kind of a disappointment in my life. I love to cook, but I am not the best at just making up new dishes; everything I make is at least inspired by someone else's recipe, then tailored to fit our family's tastes. I am not like Rachel Ray, who draws brilliant recipes from thin air--"I love pizza and I love chicken parmesan, so I combined them to make my Pizz-O Parmesan! Yum-O!!!" (I jest, but I may really try that sometime...)

So when I created this dish, I thought I really had something. Visions of The Next Food Network Star danced through my head. I pictured myself with a TV show, showing home cooks everywhere how to take a pinch of this and that and turn it into a feast. I don't remember exactly how my balloon of hopes was deflated, but I was searching for another recipe online--which recipe escapes me--snooped around a bit more, and discovered that I had unwittingly concocted a dish that already existed. Sure, it tasted wonderful, but it wasn't mine. And it was such an established dish that it had its own name, and it was Italian, for pete's sake.

I had already posted it on my Monday Menu Plan as "Chicken Pasta Toss with garlic, olive oil, parmesan, and fresh basil" (a cumbersome name, indeed), but that was before I knew it already had a title, Aglio e Olio (Garlic and Oil). Despite my disappointment, I made the dish, adding a few elements that don't appear in the original recipe--basil and chicken and parmesan cheese--and omitting one ingredient--red pepper flakes--that I didn't think the kiddies would go for. In the end, I suppose that it is different enough to perhaps merit its own name, but it is, at its essence, Aglio e Olio. With chicken.

It's so easy, it's ridiculous, and Abe thought it was the best thing ever. I wrote a lot of instructions for you, but at the core, it's amazingly simple, so don't be scared off by the fact that there are lots and lots of words following the list of ingredients. And hey, I put the really side-note kind of stuff in parentheses, so you can skip those altogether, if you'd like.

Take that, Rachel Ray. And Giada--I'm coming for you next.

"Kind Of" Aglio e Olio

1 lb. spaghetti, uncooked
1/4 c. olive oil plus 1 Tbsp.
4 cloves of garlic, finely minced (increase if you LOVE garlic)
1/2 c. grated parmesan cheese
1/4 c. basil, cut finely
3 boneless, skinless chicken breasts, pounded to uniform thickness
salt
pepper

First, bring a giant pot of water to a boil--this will happen much faster if you cover the pot with a lid. When the water has come to a boil, add a generous handful of salt to the water, then add the pasta. Cook to your preference--I like it really al dente, but do whatever floats your boat.

While the pasta water is heating, heat 1 Tbsp. of the oil in a skillet over medium high heat. Allow this to warm up for about 30 seconds, then add the chicken to the skillet. When the white creeps up the side of the chicken breasts, it's time to flip--this should take just a few minutes. After flipping, let the chicken cook for another 2 or 3 minutes or so, then remove chicken to a plate or cutting board to allow it to rest. (Salt and pepper it at this point; salt has a tendency to draw moisture out of the meat, releasing this moisture into the pan and causing the chicken to steam instead of fry--thus preventing the chicken from getting a nice color to it. Also, pepper can scorch, too, so, you know, just hold off, and your chicken will be beautifully golden and juicy, and the residual heat will allow the chicken to absorb the flavors of the salt and pepper.)

In the same skillet, add the remaining olive oil and the garlic. Bump the heat down to medium or medium low (scorched garlic is ruined garlic, and turns bitter and awful. All you want to do is take some of the rawness out of the garlic and infuse the oil with its flavor.) Stirring frequently, wait for the garlic to get just a little bit golden. This will only take a few minutes.

Add the basil, and stir the whole shebang over that medium heat for just a minute or so, then turn off the heat.

Drain the pasta. Do not rinse. Dump the pasta into a large bowl and dump the olive oil mixture over top. Using tongs, turn to coat. Then sprinkle on the parmesan, and turn to coat again, until all of the pasta is covered with the cheese and the basil is evenly distributed.

As for that chicken: that's up to you. I sliced it up and added it right into the pasta mix, but you could also just slice it on top or serve it alongside. If you anticipate serving it alongside, you may want to marinate it in a little Italian dressing beforehand to boost the flavor a bit, since it won't be necessarily mingling with the essences of basil and garlic.

Enjoy!

Two-Saucy MockZagna

This recipe started out as Rachel Ray's "Not-Sagna," but I made a number of alterations, including the use of jarred spaghetti sauce, so I changed the name. You can reference her original recipe here. The beauty of this dish is that it has all of the flavor of labor-intensive lasagna, but it takes much much less time and effort, making it perfect for a weeknight meal.

Cori's Two-Saucy MockZagna

1 lb ground beef (with additional crumbled Italian sausage, if desired), browned
1 minced onion
3 cloves of garlic, pressed
1 jar spaghetti sauce
1 can stewed tomatoes
1 lb. short-cut pasta (I used rigatoni, but whatever you've got is fine)
1 c. ricotta
1/3 c. parmesan
1/4 c. shredded mozzarella
2 Tbsp. fresh basil, chiffonaded, or 2 tsp. dried Italian seasoning

1) Brown beef. When it has lost its pink, add the onion and garlic, and let that work for a minute or two.

2) Prepare pasta according to package directions, reserving 1/3-1/2 c. of the water for the ricotta sauce.

3) To the beef mixture, add the spaghetti sauce and the stewed tomatoes (smush the tomatoes up with your hands before you add them), and let this sit over medium heat until you need it.

4) In the bottom of a large bowl, mix together ricotta, parmesan, mozzarella, basil, salt and pepper to taste, and add the reserved pasta water. Stir well.

5) Add the pasta to the ricotta sauce, then add 1/3 of the spaghetti sauce to that; toss to combine.

6) Spoon additional spaghetti sauce over the top and sprinkle with additional mozzarella, if desired.

Serves 6.

So easy, and so YUM! If you put a lid on the pasta pot to bring the water to a boil faster, the whole shebang can go from start to finish in 20 minutes or so!