We interrupt this computer virus to bring you a blog post....and chocolate

This week has been just computer hell. Seriously. If there was something that could happen to my computer, it happened, then thought about it, then happened again worse. I am currently typing on my fourth-string computer because my star is down with a nasty Trojan horse virus, my back-up and its cord parted ways, and someone (I'd really like to blame my toddler, but it was me) splashed water onto my back-up's back-up and it's making a weird sizzling sound that alarms me.

Basically, my computers are the quarterback lineup of the Steelers. If my old Sony, a.k.a. Charlie Batch, doesn't pull through for me until at least one of the other issues is resolved, I'll be going to need grief counseling.

Or, perhaps I will need Smooth Road Brownies.

Let me give you some background. See...I love chocolate. I also love rocky road, with all the chunks of chocolate and nuts and chewy marshmallows giving you little pockets (or, I guess, in keeping with the metaphor, potholes) of flavor. Really, what's bad about that?

Well, according to my siblings, everything. When they were kids, they looked at any kind of lump in a brownie as a personal betrayal. Nuts were a hanging offense.

Look at this kid. Honestly, she ate three things when she was this age. French toast, cheese, and Lucky Charms. (Nice pic, huh? I snitched it off her Facebook page. Why? Well, all my pictures are stuck on the computer with the Trojan horse virus, so I'm making do with what I can get, and yet still fulfilling my commitment to give you people things to look at while you read. I'm dedicated that way.)

But even when I was in high school, I was unwilling to give in to culinary terrorists. I would, however, engage in some minor diplomatic compromise. And so, my rocky road smoothed out.

Here goes a super-simple equation for deliciousness:

Start with brownies. I like the scratch kind that are really dense and fudgy, but I would be lying if I said there were never boxes of brownie mix in my cupboard. There are. And they are good.

Mix up your batter the way you always do, whether you are melting chocolate and sifting cake flour or just adding some water and an egg. Pour in your greased up pan. NOW STOP.

It's so smooth and white and puffy. I mean, it's MARSHMALLOW. How can anyone have a problem with that? Grab a spoon. Dollop some over the batter. Eat a big spoonful when no one's looking.

Yeah, that's hot fudge. In brownies. Is it overkill? Maybe. Do I care? No. More dollops of goodness, please.

Oh, and that? That's the peanut butter. Because peanut butter is good with chocolate. And it's good with marshmallow creme. And it's good on radial tires. Put some on there! (I find it easier to melt it slightly first in the microwave. Just a few seconds.)

Now take a knife and swirl them all slightly. And then bake.

And then eat.

And then you might want to ask your doctor about some insulin.

 

Get your gooey on

Cheese was a great thing to happen to bread for centuries before peanut butter and jelly got in on the act. There is a reason why almost every sandwich is made just a little bit better by the simple addition of a slice of cheese.

But my favorites are always when cheese is the star of the show. And nothing does that like a good old grilled cheese sandwich.

Now, I will pause here to address some issues for sticklers. To me, a grilled cheese sandwich is cheese (classically, in my childhood, American or, better yet, Velveeta) between two slices of the whitest white bread to be found, slathered on the outside with butter. My grandmother insists that this is called a "dream sandwich" and that a real grilled cheese isn't buttered, but fried in melted butter. I think this is a semantical argument that doesn't matter to your clogged arteries. Then there are the people who call it a toasted cheese, which I say is a cheese sandwich on toasted bread and has nothing to do with a griddle at all.

Okay, now that I've gotten that off my chest, we can proceed. Kids love grilled cheese. I defy you to find a kid's menu that doesn't feature them. (TIP: you can even get them at Burger King if you ask nicely.) And the humble grilled cheese is, like pizza, a great vehicle for getting kids to try things they might not like.

Take me for example. When I was a child, I'd have eaten my left foot before I ate a tomato. Unless you put it in a grilled cheese sandwich. Grilled cheese with tomato and bacon was my mother's secret weapon when our garden overflowed with tomatoes that I looked at with distrust and contempt. (It also helps if you make the experience special. I remember many a late-night movie date with my mom: just us, some grilled cheese and tomato, and something wonderful on TV late at night while everyone else was in bed.)

But cheese and bread are adaptable, and turning a diagonally cut sandwich into wedges of pizza is a lot easier than putting square pegs in round holes.

Grilled Cheese Sandwich Pizza for Mom

1 pre-baked pizza crust

1 T. butter

½ pound provolone cheese, sliced

½ pound sharp yellow cheddar, shredded

1 large ripe tomato, sliced

½ pound crisp cooked bacon, crumbled

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Rub bottom of crust (yes, the side that touches the pan) and 1-inch edge of top with butter. Place on pizza pan. (If you are using pizza dough, melt the butter and pour into pan, just painting edges. I actually don't recommend this for this pizza because it makes it harder to shape.)

Top crust with provolone slices and cheddar. Bake 5-7 minutes, until cheese just starts to melt. Scatter tomato slices and bacon over cheese. Return to oven for another 7-10 minutes, or until cheese is bubbling and starting to brown.


Color conundrum – How do you like your cheese? Yellow or white? Many people will argue the point, saying one tastes better than the other, but anyone from a cheese-producing area will tell you, there’s very little, if any, difference. Most manufacturers add yellow dye to their cheese because they know some people won’t buy white. Others, like Cabot Creamery in Vermont, refuse to add dyes to their cheese on principle. While some people say the color was originally added to distinguish where the cheese came from, it really comes down to the seasons. Cows eat differently during the summer months pastured in a field than they do in winter stabled in a barn. Anyone who read the Little House on the Prairie books can tell you how Ma had to ring the juice out of a carrot to make the butter look better in the winter, when the fat didn’t have the same pretty yellow color.

The building blocks of childhood

They aren't Legos or Lincoln Logs.

If you were to build a child from scratch, you wouldn't need plastic or silicone or wood or joint compound. You need peanut butter and jelly, the hydrogen and oxygen of kid-dom, the substances that make up the majority of all rugrats, the way water covers most of the Earth. (And in my experience, peanut butter and jelly covers most of the children I know, so that's a good analogy in more ways than one.)

If you can’t get a kid to eat PB&J, you’ve got a kid that won’t eat anything. A kid that will sneer at macaroni and cheese, tacos, hot dogs, hamburgers and grilled cheese sandwiches will still gratefully gobble up peanut butter and jelly.

That is not to say that there aren’t concessions to be made. I have one nephew who demands strawberry jam for his sandwiches. The other wants “the purple stuff,” but then again, sometimes he slaps on cheese and ketchup, too, the little freak. My niece wants whatever I can convince her Hannah Montana would eat on a peanut butter sandwich. None of them have any interest in my chunky peanut butter and apple jelly on wheat toast, but that’s just fine with me. I can still get my son to indulge in interesting jams, as long as there is plenty of peanut butter that he can ultimately rub in his hair. What can I say? He's a connoisseur.

1 pizza crust

1 c. peanut butter

1/2 c. cream cheese

¼ c. brown sugar

¾ c. strawberry jam

1 c. sweetened whipped cream

Optional: Teddy Grahams and gummy bears

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Place pizza crust on baking sheet. Bake 10-15 minutes, until just starting to brown. Cool.

Beat peanut butter with cream cheese and brown sugar until smooth. Spread over crust. In a microwave-safe bowl, heat jam in microwave for 10 seconds, until just slightly loosened. Spread evenly over peanut butter layer. Chill.

Place whipped cream in a piping bag, or just a plastic zipper bag with a corner cut. Pipe cream in a decorative pattern around the edge. Garnish with Teddy Grahams and gummy bears. Slice and serve.

Variation: Super-easy PB&J – After toasting crust, spread with ¾ c. peanut butter. Cool. Using a squeeze-top bottle of grape jelly, let the kids squirt on a funky jelly pattern. Slice and serve.


Sidebar box: Shell Game – Peanuts aren’t actually nuts. They’re legumes, like beans or lentils. According to leading peanut butter producer Skippy, three jars of the tasty spread are sold every single second, totaling about 90 million jars a year. It takes 850 peanuts to make one 18-ounce jar of peanut butter, and most of those come from Georgia, Texas, Florida and Oklahoma.

Et tu, chicken?

When Julius Caesar met his end on the Ides of March more than 2,000 years ago, he probably never imagined how popular he would be today. After all, when was the last time you went into a restaurant that didn’t feature a Caesar salad on the menu?

The dressing is what definies a Caesar. Simultaneously creamy and oily, it's almost a fresh-made mayonnaise with the bite of garlic, the salt of parmesan, and the deep, intangible background of anchovy. (Okay, you're probably going to want to keep that one to yourself with the picky eaters. I just write pizza recipes. I don't have a wand.)

Don't like Caesar yourself? A good parmesan peppercorn or even ranch makes gives a similar feel. And don't feel like that's a bad thing. Making substitutions is part of opening people's eyes, and tastebuds, to new things. But that doesn't mean you force the issue in areas that have already been tried and deemed "not my style."

What else makes a Caesar a Caesar? The right lettuce. You can put the dressing on anything you want, but authenticity demands Romaine. The long, straight leaves of this special green are crisp and sweet, and much easier to get kids to try than some of the bitter or spiky foliage in a spring mix.

And the chicken? It's become synonymous with Caesar, probably because its mellow, adaptable flavor and pleasant texture make it a perfect foil for the pop of the dressing.

Pile it all on a crispy, chewy pizza crust for something new in a salad staple.

Chicken Caesar Pizza

1 pizza crust

Olive oil

2 T. grated parmesan cheese

Salt and pepper

2 c. romaine lettuce, sliced thin

1 pound cooked chicken (preferably deli roasted)

¼ c. Caesar dressing (Don’t like Caesar? Ranch works fine.)

Parmesan cheese

Parsley

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Place crust on baking sheet. Brush or spray with olive oil. Season with parmesan cheese and salt and pepper to taste. Bake 15-20 minutes, or until cheese melts and begins to brown, but not until crust is too crunchy to cut. Cool.

In a bowl, toss lettuce and chicken with dressing until lightly coated. Pile on crust. Garnish with more parmesan and parsley. Slice and serve.


EXTRA EXTRA!!!

It’s NOT imperial! – While Caesar salad was first popularized in Hollywood’s Golden Age, and for years was only available at restaurants with a dress code, it isn’t a dish with royal roots. Italian immigrant Caesar Cardini created the dish in 1924 for his Tijuana, Mexico, restaurant, catering to those crossing the border to have a little wine with dinner during Prohibition. The dish was known for its theatrical value, since it was prepared at the table, but that just makes it the perfect dish for entertaining today. Doesn’t everyone always end up in the kitchen anyway? (Source: www.cuisinedumonde.com)

Taqueso

Yeah. That's my word. What about it?

I know it's not hard to get a kid to eat a taco. No harder than getting him to eat a pizza. Tacos are fun. It's a salad wrapped up in a big Dorito, for crying out loud. What's bad about that?

Well, some of these recipes aren't about getting a kid to eat something he wouldn't normally eat. They are about opening a kid's eyes to trying new things and exploring new ways of doing things.
I do recipe contesting. That means that a big part of my life is spent looking at one thing and figuring out how to recreate it in a new, unusual, and hopefully appetizing way. I think I'm pretty good at it. For Steak-umms, I rebuilt barbecue using steak. http://www.delish.com/food/award-winning-recipes/steak-umms-recipe-contest
For the National Beef Cookoff, I reinterpreted my husband's favorite Caprese salad as a burger with my favorite grilled polenta instead of a bun. http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/caprese-polenta-burger-small-plates-big-taste-recipe/reviews/index.html (And yes, having a recipe listed on http://www.foodnetwork.com/? One of the highlights of my life.)

Looking at things in new ways doesn't just open you to trying my Taqueso (get it? Taco + Queso?) Pizza. It can be the start of seeing how you can take something good and make it something great. Looking at things from a new perspective is creativity at its most basic, and has taken us into space, into microchips, into the DNA of the human body.

So make some pizza. It's good for your brain.

Taqueso Pizza

Tacos are really just little pizzas bent in half. Already sporting meat, sauce, cheese and toppings, the dish is perfect to make the leap from crispy tortilla envelope to flat bread shell.

1 pizza crust

1 pound ground beef

1 small onion, chopped

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 small can green chiles

½ c. tomato sauce

2 t. chili powder

1 t. cumin

1 ½ t. sugar

Salt and pepper to taste

Cayenne pepper or hot sauce (optional)

1 c. shredded cheddar

1 c. shredded mozzarella

¼ c. pickled mild banana pepper slices

1 T. chopped fresh cilantro or parsley

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Place pizza crust on baking sheet.

In a large skillet, brown ground beef over medium heat with onions and garlic. Add chiles, tomato sauce, chili powder, cumin, sugar, salt, pepper and, if desired, cayenne or hot sauce. Simmer 5-10 minutes. Spread on pizza crust and top with cheeses. Scatter with banana pepper slices. Bake 20 minutes. Garnish with cilantro or parsley.

Serving suggestion – Instead of topping your taco pizza with lettuce, salsa and sour cream, serve them alongside. Wedges of iceberg lettuce drizzled with salsa and topped with a dollop of sour cream make a great salad accompaniment to a fun pizza.

From the garden

Okay, my garden happens to be under two feet of snow and ice at the moment, but there's someone out there supplying the world with veggies right now, and thank goodness! Because I'm in the mood for a little vegetarian extravaganza right now.

There are two problems with a veggie pizza most of the time, but those problems have the same root. A lack of imagination.

Problem #1? Often, a veggie pie just isn't very good. Usually, it consists of the four basic vegetables in any pizza joint: mushrooms, onions, peppers and olives. There's nothing wrong with those vegetables at all, but are they fresh? Frankly, I believe canned mushrooms on a pizza should be a hanging offense. Black olives must be canned, but they also can't be old. And the onions and peppers are also a conundrum. Raw, and the pie can cook before they do, giving an unpleasantly jarring difference when eaten. Cooked, or more to the point, overcooked, and you've got a wet, limp mess.

Problem #2? Mushrooms, onions, peppers and olives may be the four things on a pizza menu, outside of anchovies, that are hardest to convince a kid that can't even be helped by melted mozzarella. And all the reasons in Problem #1 are exactly why.

There is also an intrinsic complication to a vegetable pizza, should you break outside that mold and embrace new and interesting plant life. When you cook a vegetable, it releases water. The only thing worse than water on dough is water on bread. Sog sog sog.

So what do you do? Give up the idea? Abandon vegetables entirely? Let the kids win? Don't be silly.

Roasting your veggies solves all your problems at once. A drizzle of oil and seasoning, a trip through the oven, and you've got tender, sweet bites of vegetables your kids love, maybe one or two new ones to try, plus you've tamed the liquid inside, preventing a pie that needs a life preserver.

"Where's the Meat?" Pizza

1 pizza crust

2 c. mixed fresh vegetables (Use your imagination. There is a world of vegetables that work just fine on pizza outside of the your standard peppers, onions and mushrooms. Tomatoes, broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, snow peas, even fresh green beans all work beautifully.)

3 T. olive oil

Salt and pepper

1/2 c. tomato sauce

1 c. shredded mozzarella (This is also a good place to use the fresh stuff, but only if the kids are going to appreciate it. While pushing veggies that might be a stumbling block, you might want to stick with the cheese that won't be a struggle.)

¼ c. grated parmesan

1 T. parsley, chopped

1 T. fresh basil, chopped (or 1 t. dried basil)

1 T. olive oil

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

Clean and cut vegetables into bite-sized pieces. What veggies are you using? Harder varieties like carrots should either be in very small pieces, like the pre-cut, pre-washed matchsticks for salads. Cauliflower, broccoli, asparagus, green beans, etc., don't need tons of cooking, so they can be left slightly larger, but it's nice to have all your veggies in a uniform size. Also, don't forget to take into consideration how much your kids like a vegetable cooked. My son, for example, likes his broccoli raw or cooked to death, nothing in between. Oh, and if you are using fresh tomatoes, make sure you seed them to keep your pie from getting soggy.

Toss the veggies with 3 T. oil and salt and pepper. You can experiment with more seasoning if you like and your kids will tolerate it. I like dill, garlic and rosemary. Spread on a sheet pan (make sure this pan has sides or the oil could cause problems) and roast in oven. This is the part I can't give you numbers for. Depending on the veggies you pick and how cooked you like them, this part could be 10-15 minutes or more than 25-30. Check them regularly, and remember they will get more cooking time on the pizza, so don't let them brown too much.

Spread sauce on crust. Start with half, adding more if necessary, or saving some to serve with the pizza. Top with vegetables. You can either arrange one variety at a time, or toss them together and scatter them evenly. Add the cheeses and finish with herbs. Drizzle crust with olive oil.

Bake about 15-20 minutes, or until cheese is melted and golden and crust nicely cooked.

EXTRA EXTRA!!!

Deadly Dinner – For hundreds of years after being discovered in the New World, Europeans and American settlers believed the tomato was poisonous. Not only was it closely related to the deadly nightshade plant, but the highly acidic tomatoes actually did kill wealthy diners who ate off pewter plates. (The acid caused lead to leach out of the plates. It was really the lead that did people in.) The tomato’s reputation was saved by Colonel Robert Gibbons Johnson, who munched a ripe, red fruit publicly in Salem, N.J., and lived to tell the tale. (Source: Encyclopedia Brittanica)

Bigger than a bread box?

Not everyone who wants fresh homemade pizza wants to deal with mixing and kneading with her own two hands. Frankly, just thinking about the sticky, gooey feeling of a yeasty dough on my hands, where it dries into a tight, plastery mess makes me frantic to wash my hands.

But I love to make fresh bread. Oh, the quandry.

And that is why I love my brother. In a Christmas related tangent, several years ago, he bought me one of my favorite kitchen tools. My bread machine. (Insert delighted sigh here.)

My bread machine lets me make fresh bread on an almost daily basis. Everything from crusty Italian for my husband to "school made" rolls for my siblings to my updated version of my grandma's traditional Swiss pear bread, bitterbrot. And it doesn't require anything more than throwing things in the pan and pushing three buttons. No mixing. No kneading. Absolutely no icky hands.

Now...should I want to make rolls, or sticky buns, or...oh, I don't know...pizza? Then I have to get up close and personal with the dough, but by that point, it's an elastic, springy mass, perfectly pliable and non-gooey.

Making pizza dough in the bread machine doesn't just mean less mess. It can mean more flavor. Even a simple cheese pizza can get an influx of flavor by adding great ingredients to the bread dough itself rather than putting on toppings. And picky eaters might be more likely to try olives in the crust than seeing black polka dots on top of their cheese.

1 c. warm water

¼ c. milk

1 T. sugar

1 t. salt

1 T. oil

3 c. bread machine flour

2 t. bread machine yeast

Layer ingredients in bread machine in the order recommended by the manufacturer. Place on dough setting and let the machine work its magic. In about an hour or so, depending on model, you’ll have all the benefits of homemade dough without the work or sticky hands.

Variations are even easier in a bread machine since most models have a built in beeper that tells you when to throw in extras. You can try the ones here, or go for something different. There are things I will attempt with a bread machine that I never do by hand.

Variations:

Olive Pizza Dough - Add ¼ c. sliced black olives to dough when your machine permits, or during the second kneading.

Red Pepper Dough - Add 2 T. coarsely chopped roasted red pepper.

Spicy Pizza Dough - Add 2 T. crushed red pepper flakes, ¼ tsp. cayenne pepper and 2 T. grated parmesan cheese.

Pepper Jack Dough - Add ¾ c. shredded pepper jack cheese.

Extra Extra!!!

The Best Thing Since What? – What’s the big deal about sliced bread? Well, until the 1928, nobody ever saw a whole loaf of sliced bread. Bread, if you didn’t bake it yourself, came to you from the bakery in one whole unsliced loaf. Otto Frederick Rohwedder initially built a machine in 1912 that sliced bread, but no one was interested because of fear the slices would quickly become stale. Sixteen years later, his upgraded model that both sliced and wrapped the loaves was first used in a Missouri bakery. No one is quite sure when “the best thing since sliced bread” was first uttered.

Hashing it out

Corned beef hash is great any time of day.

It’s a tasty lunch, a satisfying dinner, even a welcome late night diner munchie after an evening out with friends. (The stories I could tell you about 2 a.m. runs to Denny's...)

But there’s no time like breakfast for hash, particularly when you’ve got a big day that requires some serious carbing up.

And yet, unless you follow "hash" with "browns," a kid can look at you like you are speaking Cantonese when you talk about corned beef. What is that? Beef covered with corn? Is it cooked with corn? Vegetables? Are you giving me pot roast for breakfast? What are you talking about?

For the record, corned beef owes its name to the process that separates it from the same cut of brisket that spends hours in a slow smoker. The meat is basically pickled in a brine, like, oh, a pickle. The "corn" refers to the kernels of salt that draw out the juices and let the flavorful, seasoning sink back in, turning ordinary beeef into something extra special.

And "hash?" Well, that generally means a mixed up concoction. When you mix up chopped up corned beef with the mealy deliciousness of cooked potatoes, you temper the saltiness of the meat, and let the potatoes mellow into a creamy backdrop.

Paired with eggs and cheese, it’s the perfect topping for a morning pizza on a busy day.

1 pre-baked pizza crust

1 ½ c. corned beef hash (canned or leftover)

4 eggs, scrambled or hard-boiled, or 8 eggs, poached

1 c. shredded cheddar cheese

Parsley

Salt and pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Place pizza crust on baking sheet. Spread with hash. Bake 10 minutes, or until heated through.

If you are using scrambled or hard-boiled eggs, arrange over hash layer and top with cheese. Bake 5 minutes, or until cheese is melted. Top with parsley and season to taste. Slice and serve.

If you are using poached eggs, skip the egg layer until after the pizza is sliced. Top each piece with a poached egg. (This is definitely a sit-down version. Drippy egg yolks make for unforgiving on-the-run meals.)


EXTRA EXTRA!!! Her Royal Hashiness – Don’t turn up your nose at corned beef hash just because it is the original leftover dish for yesterday’s meat and potatoes. Not only did Queen Elizabeth II and her sister, Princess Margaret, have a special dish just for their hash (they called it "hoosh-mi") as kids, now she frequently enjoys shepherd’s pie, a hash variation, to use up her Sunday roast at the palace.

Mangia, parmagiana!

In honor of our upcoming traditional holiday, we have a somewhat traditional pizza.

And a clever way to get a kid to try something that might otherwise make him run screaming from the room.

You should remember from our meatball sojourn that I dislike actually "tricking" someone into eating something he doesn't like. Sorry, Jessica Seinfeld, but pureeing things and hiding them in cake batter doesn't teach a kid to like spinach. It teaches him you'll lie to him for your own purposes.

But parmagiana can make a kid receptive to a style, just enough for you to change up what that style might cover. The Parmagiana Principle, anyone?

Chicken, veal or eggplant, a crispy cutlet of something sautéed until golden, then sauced with rich marinara and smothered in melted cheese is a classic staple of any Italian restaurant. Just the name conjures up images of checkered tablecloths and Chianti-bottle candleholders.

Parmagiana is how my mom got me to eat both veal and eggplant for the first time. Both are favorites of mine today that I would never have experienced otherwise. She didn't trick me with a fried slice of eggplant and tell me it wasn't chicken after I swallowed the first bite. She told me up front it was something new, but it would taste kind of like the chicken parmagiana I loved, so I was willing to give it a try.

Admittedly, I don't have to do this for my son. At almost 2 years old, eggplant is just about his favorite thing on the planet. But I have gotten other kids (and a few adults) to expand their culinary viewpoints in a few easy steps via a good parmagiana. My picky niece and nephews actually volunteered to try it at Alfredo's in Epcot. (I was so proud.)

And since it’s already two thirds of a pizza, why not go the extra step and settle the whole succulent mélange on a crust? As a pizza, parmagiana goes from retro-restaurant chic to casual culinary fun.

Got a particularly picky picky eater? Don't use the fancy Italian word. Call it Chicken Nugget Pizza. What kid could possibly say no?

1 pre-baked pizza crust
1 pound breaded chicken fingers (Does your deli counter have chicken fingers, the good all-white-meat kind? That’s what you want. You can also use homemade or frozen breaded chicken cutlets cut into strips.)
1 c. spaghetti sauce (or see the Classico sauce recipe)
1 green pepper, sliced
1 c. shredded mozzarella
¼ c. parmesan

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Place pizza crust on baking sheet.

Cut chicken fingers crosswise into bite-size chunks and arrange over crust. Pour sauce over chicken. Place green pepper in microwave-safe bowl with about ¼ c. water. Cover and cook on high 1 minute. Drain. Scatter peppers over chicken. Combine cheeses and sprinkle over crust. Bake 20-25 minutes. Cheese should be melted and chicken heated through.

Variation:

Veal – Substitute one pound of breaded veal cutlets for the chicken.

Eggplant – Slice one small eggplant crosswise into even slices. Season with salt and pepper. Dredge in flour, then egg, then breadcrumbs. Fry quickly in hot oil (part olive for flavor, part vegetable, peanut or canola for high temperature cooking). Substitute for chicken.

Extra Extra!!!!

Foreign Food Facts: In Italy, veal Parmagiana is called cotolette alla Bolognese. Loosely translated, that means Bologna slice. (Source: About.com)

Eggstravaganza

There just isn’t anything as decadent as eggs Benedict.

It’s the dish you get when you are being treated like a queen. It’s breakfast in bed, late-morning brunch on Mother’s Day. It is the epitome of a celebration breakfast for my husband. We don't go out for breakfast often, but I know that if we do, he's probably going to have the classic leaning-tower-of-Pisa stack of english muffin, ham, egg and sauce. It’s not something you ever make at home, which is a shame, because it’s delicious.

But I think what scares many people away from making it, and some from even ordering it, is the hollandaise sauce. What is hollandaise after all? It isn’t something most of us encounter on a daily basis. A sublime French creation of egg yolks and butter, it’s daunting because a slowed whisk or an aggressive burner can turn it into a puddle of grease or a bowl of scrambled eggs without half trying.

And I am a giant wuss. I fear having a culinary meltdown. Because of this, I avoid it in favor of something everyone loves, an easy, cheesy sauce that looks every bit as impressive without the work.

Cheese is also a great way to sell a kid on, well, anything. A picky eater will grimace at the idea of a fancy French dish and a hoity-toity sauce. But cheese? Everyone loves cheese! And every pizza needs cheese. It's a perfect compromise.

1 pizza crust
1 T. butter
1 T. flour
1 c. milk
2 oz. cream cheese
½ c. shredded cheddar cheese or 2 oz. Velveeta
Dash of cayenne
Salt and pepper
½ pound Canadian bacon
8 poached eggs or 6-8 hard-boiled eggs
Parsley or tarragon for garnish

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Place pizza crust on baking sheet. Bake 15-20 minutes. Set aside.

In a small saucepot, melt butter. Stir in flour. Add milk, whisking until combined. Add cream cheese, stirring until melted. Add cheddar or Velveeta, stirring until melted. Season with cayenne, salt and pepper. Spread over pizza crust.

In a skillet, fry bacon just until beginning to brown. Arrange over cheese sauce.

Now, for the eggs. For the most attractive presentation, slice the pizza, top each slice with a poached egg and garnish with herbs. If you don’t have the time or inclination to do this one egg at a time, just use hard-boiled eggs. Slice and arrange over ham. Garnish the whole pie with herbs. This will be easiest if you arrange the egg slices in spokes, putting one spoke on each prospective slice.

Variation: Eggs Florentine – Omit Canadian bacon, replacing it with a layer of fresh baby spinach leaves.

EXTRA EXTRA!!!

Bacon, eh? – Don’t ask for Canadian bacon north of the border. In the provinces, what we call “Canadian” is simply known as back bacon. The most common kind of back up yonder is almost unknown in the U.S. Called “peameal,” it is cured in a sweet pickling brine before being rolled in cornmeal.

Something's fishy...and cheesy!

I love tuna.

I love it in sandwiches. In macaroni and cheese. In pot pies. In dip. I think there is very little you can't do with a can of tuna.

Even pizza.

"Tonnato" is a classic Italian sauce, usually surved on veal, sometimes turkey. A tomato-y sauce filled with Italian, oil-packed tuna. (Nothing better than Italian, oil-packed tuna if you can find it.) And that would make a damn fine pizza. But that's not what I'm talking about.

When I think tuna and cheese, I think tuna melt. But I've seen more than one kid look at my lovely tuna goodness and default to "ewwwww!"

Now, it's not that my tuna is full of weird and inexplicable ingredients. My tuna is a simple thing. I don’t chop lots of veggies. I don’t carefully slice a dozen imported black olives. (Although my son would be in seventh heaven if I did, the little weirdo.)

If you want to throw in capers, or start with a sushi-grade loin of albacore, that’s between you and your God. For me, a tuna melt is the height of ease and comfort, the kind of thing made best
by a diner because it is so very simple. Like grilled cheese or a perfect pancake, there’s no sense in making something convoluted just because you can.

Turning a one-person tuna melt into a pizza that can serve four or more? That’s in perfect keeping with what makes a diner classic a dinner staple.

1 pre-baked pizza crust (I use pre-baked here so the crust gets crispier, just like with a classic tuna melt. But that doesn't mean you can't start with dough. It still tastes delicious with a doughy crust. If you do that, skip the oil, and bake for about 10-15 minutes, until the crust just starts to get golden brown.)
Olive oil
2 small cans (or 1 large can) tuna
¼ c. dill pickle relish (optional)
¼ c. Miracle Whip (or mayo, if, like my husband, you insist)
Salt and pepper
1 c. shredded colby jack cheese

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Place pizza crust on baking sheet. Drizzle with olive oil. Bake for 5-7 minutes, just until warmed through and beginning to turn golden. Remove and cool. Don’t turn that oven off yet.

Mix tuna with pickle relish, Miracle Whip and salt and pepper to taste. (Like your tuna runnier? Me too. You can add more Miracle Whip if you want, but trust me, too much makes a drippy pie.) Spread tuna salad over crust. Top with cheese, scattering evenly, but making sure as much of the tuna is covered as possible. If this requires more cheese, go for it.

Bake 5-10 minutes, just until cheese is melted but not browned.

Extra Extra!

Diner Table – When is a diner a diner, and when is it just another place to get breakfast? It’s a question akin to creationism versus the Big Bang Theory, and one just as likely to provoke vehement responses. While some people say that a diner is defined by the food it serves, others go with the strict Webster’s Dictionary version, “a restaurant in the shape of a railroad dining car.” (Source: www.dinercity.com)

Hey there, pumpkin!

Do you have people who are squeamish about squash? Not up for a savory, salt-and-peppered spaghetti squash, or a steamy mashed butternut? Don't worry. There's always the fallback gourd, the perennial staple of autumn. It's probably sitting on your front porch this morning, sad and withered with the stump of a candle inside.

Pumpkin is perfect for pizza. After all, it may be indigenous to the New World, but it has definitely been embraced by Italian cooks. In fact, it probably ranks right behind tomatoes and corn as one of the Mediterranean nation’s favorite American imports.

Italians enjoy suash in gnocchi, as a sauce for pasta, as a filling in ravioli, layered in lasagna. (A quick tour of Foodnetwork.com will yield plenty of pumpkin-rich recipes from Italian celeb chefs like Mario Batali, Giada DiLaurentiis and Rachael Ray.) Some baked or steamed squash chunks on a classic cheese pizza are actually a delicious addition. A smear of pureed pumpkin instead of tomato sauce, with a layer of mozzarella and a drizzle of olive oil with a smattering of sage is also delicious.

But it's also traditionally delicious as dessert. Plus, it’s already familiar as one of our favorite pies. Why wait until Thanksgiving to dig into a slice of your favorite spicy squash? You can make a great pumpkin pizza any time of year.

1 pizza crust

1 c. canned pumpkin

1 c. mascarpone or cream cheese

½ c. brown sugar

1 egg

1 t. cinnamon

¼ t. nutmeg

¼ t. ginger

½ c. crushed gingersnaps

½ c. chopped pecans

1 T. butter, melted

Whipped cream

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Place pizza crust on baking sheet.

In a bowl, beat pumpkin with cream cheese and sugar until well-combined. Add egg and spices. Spread on pizza crust. DON'T overload your crust. If you have more filling than you need, you can bake it in muffin or custard cups alongside the pizza.

In another bowl, toss gingersnaps, nuts and butter. Sprinkle over pumpkin layer. Bake 20 minutes. Allow to cool 5-10 minutes before slicing. Serve with whipped cream.


Extra Extra!!!

Fruity facts – Like tomatoes, pumpkins have suffered through years of species confusion. The orange globes are not vegetables, they are fruits. In fact, they are members of the family Cucurbitacae, the same viny clan that produces cucumbers, gourds, melons and a host of other squash. I mean, squashes. Or maybe squashi? (www.thepumpkinfarm.com)

Who needs chips?

Not me. Okay, often I do need chips. Ridgy potato ones I can dip in ketchup. Don't judge me!

But not for my nachos.

How does one have nachos without chips? (Hint: look at the title of the blog.)

The thing about nachos is this. I love them. I think they are a great way of trying new things because you can be kind of selective about it. I really don't like black olives, for example. But my husband does. So when we get nachos, he eats the olives and jalapenos. I eat the...well, there's really nothing he won't eat on there, but you get the point. And if I accidentally end up with some black olive? There's probably enough salsa and sour cream to mask it.

But that brings us to my LEAST favorite part of the nacho experience. If you don't want your chips to turn to moosh, you have to eat them pretty quick. I can't do this. I eat really slow. I've gotten very used to being able to use a spoon for my nachos by the time I get to the bottom.

Another problem, particularly with kids, is the idea of equity. My husband tries to "save" me by helping me eat my nachos. Usually after he's eaten whatever he got for his own meal or snack. And somehow, he misses the stink-eye he's getting as he innocently scoops up my cheesy goodness.

Kids want fairness. They want to know that Alex didn't get three more chips than Logan, and that Rachel didn't get all the cheese while the boys get naked chips.

Nothing solves these problems like a pizza.

A sturdy crust can hold up to the drippier ingredients of a good nacho. The sour cream, guacamole, salsa, even chili. (We've already proven that with our chili dog pizza.) None of them will leave a pizza crust weak and limp the way they will a thin, crispy chip.

Pizza is easily divided with mathematical precision. No counting out exactly how many chips each kid gets or "MOM! He got more than me!!!" And the cheese is spread in an even blanket over the whole pie, not just on the top layer of chips. Is there anything more disappointing than having half a dozen ooey-gooey delicious nachos, and then a plate of over-salted, usually half-stale chips?

Also, this lets you use real cheese more effectively. I love real cheese on my nachos. Downside? It doesn't stick well and pulls off like the celophane wrapper on a slice of process-cheese food. Melted cheese sauce sticks well, but it doesn't have the same flavor for me.

This is also a flexible recipe. You can make the simple cheese and chile pie, cut it up and let eveyrone add his favorite toppings. This can make it even easier to encourage a picky eater to try something new because there's no commitment. You don't have to try a whole piece of black olive pizza, only to have to pull off the black olives you don't like after the first bite. You can put just one black olive on the tip, and if you don't like it, you're done with it.

Nacho Pizza

1 pizza crust
1 c. shredded mild cheddar
1 c. shredded mozzarella
1 small can mild green chiles
Salsa, sliced black olives, jalapeno peppers, guacamole, chili, onions, shredded lettuce, refried beans, sour cream, cilantro, chopped tomato

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Place pizza crust on baking sheet. Bake 10 minutes.

Combine cheeses and sprinkle over pizza crust. Scatter chiles evenly. Bake 10-15 minutes until cheese is melted and faintly golden brown. Let stand 5 minutes before slicing, or cheese will be too gooey. Serve with remaining ingredients, and let everyone top their own nacho with exactly what they want.

Extra Extra!

Tasty Tidbit – In 1943, Ignacio “Nacho” Anaya first covered chips with cheese and chiles for a group of Air Force officers’ wives lunching in Mexico, just across the border from Texas’ Fort Duncan Air Base. The maitre’ d, Anaya couldn’t find the cook to make something for the ladies, and so he whipped up the dish and named it Nacho’s Especiales. (Source: San Antonio Express-News)

Say cheese!

Sometimes, it's the things you are most resistant to that end up being your absolute favorites. I call this the "Green Eggs and Ham" principle. (In an unrelated note, if you like Dr. Seuss classics reinterpreted in hilarious ways...with vampires...click here. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=olNyL6zMqlw. It's worth it.)

I sampled my first cheese Danish when I was 12, under duress.

I had no interest in trying what was explained to me as a doughnut filled with cheese. (The small picture of a wedge of Swiss on the side of the bakery box didn’t help my somewhat vivid imagination.) I'm not sure why anyone would think this was the way to go. It's kind of like offering a cupcake with gravy.

But try it I did. And there was no going back. My refrigerator is never without cream cheese. I use it in everything. You'll see it make more than one appearance in this blog. In fact, I think it's already shown up a few times. I have trouble getting enough protein in my diet, and cream cheese offers me a delicious way to up the number of grams I get in a day. If you have a seriously picky eater, adding some cream cheese to his mashed potatoes or Kraft macaroni could give you a little piece of mind about rounding out his diet.

Something sweet is usually a much easier sell than something savory, however. And as a breakfast food, a good cheese danish is hard to beat. It's got dairy, protein, carbs, a solid foundation for a morning of work or school, especially if paired with a glass of juice.

If you are meeting, or think you might meet, similar resistance when you serve this delicious concoction, feel free to call it what my nephew does: white frosting pizza. I don’t intend to correct him for at least five years.

1 pizza crust
1 T. butter
8 oz. cream cheese, softened
½ c. sugar
1 T. vanilla
1 egg
2 T. butter
2 T. brown sugar
¼ c. flour
½ c. powdered sugar
1 t. vanilla
1 t. milk

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Place pizza crust on baking sheet. Spread with butter. Bake 10 minutes. Remove and set aside.

Combine cream cheese, sugar, vanilla and egg. Spread over crust. In another bowl, combine butter, brown sugar and flour. Sprinkle over cheese mixture. Bake 10-15 minutes, until crust begins to brown, but the cheese is just beginning to set. Remove and cool. The cheese will set up more.

Combine powdered sugar, vanilla and milk. Drizzle over cooled pizza. Slice and serve.

Variation:

Jeweled Danish – Spread 1 c. blueberry or cherry pie filling over c cheese layer before sprinkling with streusel. Bake 15 minutes.

Lemon Cream Danish – Omit streusel. After baking the cream cheese layer, spread with ½ c. lemon curd. Sprinkle with flaked almonds. Replace vanilla in icing with lemon juice.

Extra Extra!!

Where in the world does Danish pastry come from? – Actually, it’s Austria. If you walk into a bakery in Denmark and ask for a Danish, you’ll get some funny looks. Ask for some “bread of Vienna” though, and they’ll know just what you want. Why? According to www.bonappetitbakery.com, the answer lies in a kitchen workers’ strike in 1880, when bakers walked off the job and were replaced by Viennese masters whose pastries were ultimately lighter and flakier than their Danish colleagues’ treats. When the bakers came back to work, customers were clamoring for the Viennese delicacies and savvy chefs had to learn to make them the same way. Those wily Danes weren’t melancholy for long. They got the last laugh since no one ever orders a cheese Austrian with their morning coffee.

She sneaks, she scores!

I would like to preface this post with a disclaimer.

I am intrinsically opposed to the Deceptively Delicious/Sneaky Chef philosophy. I don't believe that tricking people into eating things they can't necessarily identify is appropriate. I mean, if you have a kid who hates spinach, and you hide spinach in brownies, you aren't offering him a chance to change his mind. You're essentially pulling a less oogy Soylent Green on him. And you're teaching him he can't trust you.

Do I put things in a pizza that might be less recognizable? Yes. But they are never obscured to the point of "Hey, this is great! What do you mean there's tomato in this?" The whole point is to get kids to like new things, not encapsulate them so they don't realize they are even being exposed.

Well...usually. This may be the exception. And I don't feel good about it. I assuage my conscience with the fact that trickery wasn't the goal. I was just short an egg.

The last time I made meatballs, I was about to go grocery shopping the next day. I was cleaning out the fridge. I was mixing up my famous (rightly so...they're delicious) meatballs for a good old-fashioned spaghetti with my husband's 2-day sauce.

I had the meat in one bowl. I broke one egg into another bowl. I reached for the second, and last, egg. And dropped it on the floor.

So now, I've got a dilemma. My meatballs need two eggs. I don't have two eggs. My husband has taken the car to go buy weird plumbing widgets. So I'm left with ingenuity instead. Ingenuity, and some leftover pumpkin.

I'm here to tell you, an egg-sized dollop of pumpkin in your meatballs is a perfect sub for an egg. And it's moist and delicious. And you never taste the pumpkin. (I was kind of disappointed about that.) And where an egg would have added fat and cholesterol, the fat-free pumpkin added beta carotene, vitamin A and potassium.

DO NOT BE TEMPTED TO REPLACE BOTH EGGS. You need the egg for binding or it all falls apart (but does still taste good). In fact, in re-tooling the recipe, I have kept both eggs, but used pumpkin in place of part of the milk, again giving a more nutritious punch. And yes, I'm not oblivious to the fact that with a little cinnamon, I'd be adding pie filling to my meatballs.

So don't lie to your kids. But feed them these meatballs. Call them Jack O Lantern meatballs. Kids will eat anything at Halloween.

Delectable Meatballs

(This recipe makes about 30 good sized meatballs. You can cut it down, but I recommend making the bigger batch and freezing what you don't need if that's too many.)

2 lbs. ground beef or meatloaf mix (I often do 1 lb. hamburger and 1 lb. Italian sausage)
2 eggs
1/4 c. pumpkin
2 T. milk
2 t. mustard
1 T. ketchup (or tomato sauce)
Salt and pepper
1/2 onion, chopped
2-3 slices fresh bread, torn, or 2/3 c. dry breadcrumbs
Optional: 30 tiny mozzarella balls (ciliegine, not bocconcini), or 1 pound mozzarella cut in 30 small pieces

Break up your meat in one large bowl, much larger than you think you'll need.

In a small bowl, beat your eggs. Whisk in the pumpkin and milk. Add the mustard, ketchup, seasoning and onion. Then gently stir in the bread or breadcrumbs. Then sit it aside for a few minutes. You want the bread to naturally soak up the liquid.

Add the egg mixture to the meat. Gently incorporate them together. Don't overwork the meat or you'll get tough meatballs. Form into about 30 balls. (This is where you can stuff them with the cheese as you shape them. If you like. I do. They are sooooo good with the cheese.)

Now...when I'm making pasta, I cook the raw meatballs in the sauce. This makes the sauce better, and flavors the meatballs at the same time. Delicious. Just simmer, covered, in the sauce for 30 minutes or so. Longer's okay. Just don't let the sauce burn, but don't stir it too much or you'll break up the meatballs. A low flame is really important.

But if I'm freezing any, or making them for pizza, I bake them. A jelly roll pan, a 350 degree oven, and about 20 minutes or so.

Enjoy.

What's this green stuff?

I think that we can agree...getting someone to eat spinach can be very much like getting them to willingly eat dirt. Actually, with kids, it can be much harder. Many a kid will cheerfully munch his own handmade mud pies but wouldn't touch a plate of creamed spinach if there was a large cash prize involved.

Which is why it's important to introduce things early, often, in a variety of ways, and in forms a kid might like overall. Like, oh, say...pizza.

Spinach is great on pizza. Any pizza. A little fresh spinach sliced in ribbons and stirred into pizza sauce ups the iron and vitamin C, increases fiber, and gives a delicious, rich background flavor. A scattering of whole baby spinach leaves under the cheese gives texture and color, particularly on a garlicky white pizza.

But for my money, the best way to introduce spinach is with something creamy. A little spinach in a ricotta cheese topping, spread on a crust, with a light tomato topping becomes a gigantic version of florentine ravioli that can be sliced in wedges.

1 pizza crust
1 T. olive oil
½ c. ricotta cheese
¼ c. grated parmesan
1 c. frozen spinach, thawed and squeezed dry
¼ t. nutmeg
Salt and pepper to taste
1 c. tomato sauce
1 c. shredded mozzarella

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Place pizza crust on baking sheet. Drizzle with olive oil.

In a bowl, combine ricotta and parmesan. Fold in spinach. Add nutmeg, salt and pepper. Spread over crust. Top with tomato sauce, just covering the cheese. (Save any remaining sauce to serve with pizza.) Top with mozzarella.

Bake 20-25 minutes. Let stand 10 minutes to allow ricotta to set. If you don’t let it set, the ricotta layer will be too melted to cut and you won’t be able to eat your pizza without a fork. Or maybe a spoon. It will still be delicious though.

Extra Extra!!!

Gotta love those Italians - Even Popeye hasn’t been able to counteract the bad rap that spinach has with most kids and more than a few adults. But when it’s done right, spinach can be sublime, as the residents of Florence, Italy, can tell you. Their city doesn’t just have a dish named for it. They have a whole style of cooking, all built around the addition of one of Americans’ least favorite veggies.

The Muffin Principle

Yes, that's right. Muffins.

We detour this evening in honor of a friend. Larks wants muffins. Carrot cake muffins, to be precise.

Muffins, much like pizza, are a perfect venue for getting things into a picky eater that a picky eater might otherwise scorn.

Like the carrots in question.

A kid can look at a carrot with the same fear, loathing and distrust some people reserve for tax auditors or salesmen hawking $2,000 vacuum cleaners door to door. But a muffin? A muffin is practically a cupcake. Who doesn't implicity trust a cupcake? Cupcakes don't mislead you. They are straightforwardly sweet and delicious at all times.

Even when they contain carrots.

And so, for the distrustful picky eater in us all, this cupcake, sorry, muffin is for you.

Carrot Cake Muffins


4 oz. cream cheese, softened
2 T sugar
1 t. vanilla
1 t. lemon zest
1/3 c. butter or margarine, softened
1/2 c. packed brown sugar
2 eggs
1/2 c. sour cream
1/4 c. apple butter (applesauce will work)
1 c. finely grated carrots
1/2 c. raisins
1/2 c. pecans, chopped
1 1/2 c. all-purpose flour
1 t. baking powder
1/2 t. baking soda
1/2 t. ground cinnamon
1/4 t. nutmeg

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Combine cream cheese, sugar, vanilla and zest. Set aside.

Line 12-cup muffin pan with cupcake liners, or grease well.

In a bowl, combine butter and brown sugar. Add eggs, sour cream and apple butter, then stir in carrots raisins and nuts. Separately mix flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon and nutmeg. Add to wet ingredients, stirring just until combined. Do not overmix. Overmixing is the downfall of a good muffin.

Distribute half of the batter between the muffin cups. Add a spoonful of the cream cheese mixture, and top with remaining batter. Bake 20-25 minutes, until lightly browned and set.

Cool before eating. Then eat them. All. Okay, if you have any left, just make sure you put them in the fridge. Cream cheese, remember?!

Pizza...on the Cobb

My husband loves Cobb salad. He orders it everywhere we ever go. Does he do this so he can experience the joy of eating something he loves?

No.

He does it so he can complain about it. If I have heard "This isn't a real Cobb salad" once, I have heard it ten million times. I cringe when I see Cobb on a menu. I know exactly where my day is headed from there.

He has issues with the ingredients. People like to change things up, after all, and if you change something that SHOULD be on a Cobb, he feels you are honor-bound to call it something else. No avocado? Pack it up and go home. No blue cheese? How can you even serve that to people?

And making huge changes? Illegal. Possibly a federal thing. There was an instance with a Mexican Cobb once... I felt really bad for the waiter.

And so, I was naturally reluctant to subject myself, and my Cobb pizza, to this kind of scrutiny. It required planning and research. Did I hit all the high points? Were all the components present?

The great thing is, pizza is a perfect canvas for a Cobb. As a composed salad, one that depends as much on arrangement as it does on ingredients, a pizza crust offers possibly the only way to easily and neatly serve a Cobb salad to a group. And the chewy bread is a great foil for the mix of creamy and crisp textures in the mix of traditional toppings.

Are there things that some people won't want? I admit, I'm not a fan of blue cheese. Or avocado. But there's just something about the artistic presentation of a Cobb that makes it seem wrong to pull out the stuff you don't like. So you give it a try. And everything harmonizes so well, you go for another bite. And another. And before you know it, you've eaten the whole thing.

"But that's not really a Cobb."

Sigh.

Cobb Salad Pizza

1 pre-baked pizza crust
Olive oil
1 avocado, sliced thin
1 large tomato, sliced thin
4 hard-boiled eggs, sliced
1 c. shredded lettuce
½ pound cooked chicken, diced
½ c. crumbled bacon
½ c. shredded cheddar
½ c. blue cheese or ranch dressing

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Place crust on baking sheet. Brush or spray with olive oil. (A little garlic at this point isn't bad either.) Bake 15-20 minutes. Cool.

Alternating avocado and tomato, layer the two in a circular pattern over crust. Top with a layer of sliced egg, then lettuce. Scatter with chicken, bacon and cheese. Drizzle with dressing. Slice and serve.

Sidebar box: Recipe roulette – You never know what you might find in your kitchen in the dark of night. Famed Hollywood restaurant owner Bob Cobb found gold in his refrigerator in 1937, when a late-night scavenger hunt yielded a bowl of vegetables, eggs, cheese and cold chicken that quickly became known as the Cobb salad. According to the Brown Derby Restaurant Group, the offspring of Cobb’s eatery, since that time, more than four million of the salads have been made at Brown Derby restaurants alone.

What are you, chicken?

I love chicken cacciatore. Some people pick at chicken in tomato sauce like it's a bizarre hybrid, like a hot fudge sundae with a cherry tomato on the whipped cream.

I don't get it. What's not to like? Rich with tomatoes and onions, chicken cacciatore, or hunter’s-style chicken, is a timeless Italian favorite. Almost. Like Chinese food, Italian cuisine is peppered with dishes that aren’t really native to the country we think. Chicken cacciatore, while based on a typical way of cooking game in central Italy, is an invention of the restaurants of ethnic neighborhoods across America.

But still...everybody likes chicken. So maybe it's just the bubbling pot of stewy-ness that's scary. I say, throw it on a pizza and bring 'em to the table.

Cacciatore Pizza

1 pizza crust
1 pound roasted or poached chicken (Leftover chicken is perfect, but the tender, succulent meat from a deli rotisserie bird is also wonderful.)
1 c. canned diced tomatoes
½ c. white wine
1 c. chopped onion
1 c. chopped red and green peppers
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 t. sugar
Salt and pepper to taste
1 T. chopped fresh basil, or 1 t. dried basil
½ c. shredded mozzarella
¼ c. grated parmesan

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Place pizza crust on baking sheet.

Cut chicken into bite-sized chunks. In a saucepan, combine tomatoes, wine, onion, peppers, and garlic. Cook on medium, covered, until the mixture comes to a boil. Turn heat down and simmer until reduced and slightly thickened. Add sugar, salt, pepper and basil. Stir in chicken. Cook another 5 minutes.

Using a slotted spoon, remove chicken and vegetables from the sauce and spread over crust. Serve remaining sauce with pizza. Top with cheeses. Bake 15-20 minutes, or until cheese is bubbling and golden.

Extra Extra!

Fowl Play – In Venice, the Padovano chicken is a popular item on many menus. The bird in question was developed when the Marchese Giovanni Dondi brought an unusual bird back from Poland in the 14th Century. It produced a cross-breed that was formally acknowledged in the 17th Century as Gallina Padovano, and referred to as “a race caught between myth and reality.” And it tastes pretty good, too.

Asian Fusion

This is where I admit that I do not personally have a picky eater. My 2-year-old son would eat caterpillars and gravel if I gave them to him with green beans. He doesn't turn up his nose at anything. Nothing. At all. Okay, beef liver and mangoes, but for a kid who has been eating table food since six months, I think that's pretty darn good.

But the best example I can ever find of his open-minded, open-stomachedness is clearly a Chinese buffet.

He cheerfully chomps his way through absolutely everything. Scallops, crab legs, shrimp, broccoli, pepper steak, lychees, California roll. You name it, he wants a bite of it. And then he will take it away and eat it for you.

My siblings did not come to Chinese food this easily. My middle sister, who will be 32 next month, has only recently embraced the idea of chicken lo mein.

My picky eater experiences are valid. All of these recipes have been tested on actual picky eaters, old and young, and have changed hearts and minds along the way. So if you have someone who is turning up a nose at moo shu and General Tsao's, give this a try.

Chinese Chicken Pizza

1 pizza crust
½ c. tomato sauce
¼ c. hoisin sauce
1 T. soy sauce
1 T. honey
2 t. sesame oil
1 t. grated gingerroot
White pepper, just a dash
1 pound cooked chicken (Leftover dark meat is great, but rotisserie or pre-cooked strips like Louis Rich’s work well. I've even done it with breaded chicken fingers cut in pieces.)
1/3 c. chopped green onion
1 red pepper, sliced in rings
1 c. broccoli florets, blanched, steamed or stir-fried
½ c. mozzarella cheese
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Place pizza crust on baking sheet.
In a bowl, whisk tomato sauce, hoisin, soy, honey, sesame oil, ginger and pepper. Spread half over crust. Arrange chicken on pizza, drizzling remaining sauce on top. Scatter vegetables evenly over surface. Sprinkle with cheese. Bake 15-20 minutes, or until crust is golden brown and cheese is melted.