Makin' bacon... butter. Bacon butter.

You heard me. Bacon. Butter.

Sometimes, my mind wanders to mysterious places. For absolutely no logical reason, I decided two weeks ago that saving bacon grease was essential to my culinary life's continued success. 

At the time of this ingenious idea's inception, I wasn't even cooking bacon. In fact, I was sitting on my couch, staring blankly at my living room wall thinking, "Laura, you need more hobbies."

Saving bacon grease is what I came up with.

So I promptly headed to the store, purchased the largest package of sliced pork belly they offered and began this very exciting and healthy new chapter of my life.

I really don't cook bacon on a regular basis. In fact, two weeks ago may have been the first time I had cooked bacon in over a year. I'm more of a beef-for-breakfast kind of girl.

Makin' bacon hurts when you're an impatient soul. It's hard to resist staring directly and closely at whatever item is sizzling on your stove top, mentally willing it to cook faster, when it smells as good as bacon.

Sizzling bacon punishes that behavior by slinging fiery grease on your skin while it cooks. Ouch. 

But if you are patient and cook the bacon slowly, it yields the most precious results. Perfectly crisp but not too-crunchy strips of deliciousness.

But that's not the point. This stuff is the point. Let as much of that liquid gold drain off each strip as you remove it from the pan.

Then let it cool. You do not want to handle bacon grease while it is still sizzling. Again: ouch.

In the meantime, enjoy the byproduct of this activity with tomatoes from your neighbor's garden (Thanks, neighbor Bob!), fresh lettuce and a Panera asiago cheese bagel.   

When this endeavour began, I really thought the idea of cooking with bacon grease was limited to farm-house grannies, which I think is why it appealed to me. Any other 24-year-old out there daydream about how awesome it would be to a pre-maturely matronly granny? No? Me neither.

But it turns out, a lot of very normal, young, hip people still use this as their "secret ingredient" for great cooking. I met one last week on a business trip. I'm not sure how my conversation with this very stylish, big-city pharmaceutical marketer from New Jersey led to bacon grease, but I think it might have gone something like this:

Her: "Know what I love almost as much as beef? Bacon."

Me: "Me. TOO. Mostly due to a recent obsession with finding recipes that involve adding extra awesomeness via saved bacon grease."

Her: "Me. TOO. I don't tell my husband. He just thinks I'm a really great cook. He has no idea it's the bacon grease talking.

Insta-friends. Just add bacon grease.

She taught me this. Once the grease has cooled to room temperature, don't just plop it in a regular ol' mason jar.

Ladle it into an ice cube tray. Freeze it. Then it lasts much longer, and it's conveniently portioned out. Because we agreed that it's not about WHAT you eat, it's about how much you eat. This is my kind of portion control.

That's my healthy eating mantra, and I'm sticking to it. 

I'm yet to actually utilize my little stockpile of bacon butter in any cooking. The tray isn't full yet, and it just doesn't seem right to take any away until I have a full stock saved up.

But I'm getting closer. One B.L.T. sandwich at a time.

I'm three sandwiches away from a full tray. Then the fun will begin.

I can't wait to pan-sear a steak in bacon grease. Or add a bit to my mashed potato mix. Or to grease a pan before making cornbread. Or to whip into homemade biscuits. Or to season green beans. 

What do you use bacon grease in/for? Any other tips/ideas?



In the kitchen with 'tader salad

Welcome back to my kitchen. It's been a little sad and lonely lately. I've been spending too much time at Quiznos, the Lean Cuisine isle and truck stops, and my kitchen is starting to feel neglected. I'm sorry, kitchen.

Moving on.

Let me preface this post: I don't really like potato salad. I am, however, a big Ron White fan. Thanks to Hollywood Video's recent demise, I just got to add "They call me 'Tader Salad" to my collection for $3. I've wanted some 'tader salad ever since.

The one potato salad I have ever liked was found in south-central Kansas, at the home of the parents of an ex-boyfriend. His sweet mamma was kind enough to give me the recipe, so here it is:

If you can imagine, it starts with 'taders. Lots of them. Eight cups to be exact.

Then you boil them. Now, there were a couple parts of this recipe I was pretty excited about -- one of them being the fact that I finally had a reason to use the enormous cauldron I bought this winter. I bought it because it was pretty and matched the rest of my pots.

Surely, this will not be a waste of $30. I need a cauldron this big. It's perfect and red and pretty.

Since then, every time I have dug through my cabinets and cursed this enormous pot for taking up so much space, I have doubted the logic I used that day. Doubt no more... this pot was worth the purchase.

While the 'taders were boiling, I started assembling the dressing. This is why I am weary of potato salad... the things that go into the dressing have no appeal to me. Mustard? Gross. Vinegar? Gross. Condensed milk? Gross.

 Put it all together? Not gross. Good, in fact. I guess I'll put this in the same category as tomato juice and vodka: separately, they are gross. Together in a perfectly spicy bloody Mary? Delicious.

This is a combination of a 1/2 cup of sugar, 1/3 cup evaporated milk, 1/8 cup vinegar, 1 tsp. mustard and salt. Sounds gross, looks gross, smell gross. Tastes good. I can't explain it.

You'll also need to hard-boil four eggs. Then run cold water over the eggs and the 'taders to cool them.

This is the second fun part of the recipe. I really love peeling hard-boiled eggs. I don't know why; I just think its neat how they crackle and like the feel of the little shred of shell peeling off. I know, I need more hobbies... but peeling hard-boiled eggs is just a good time in my book.

THEN, I got to use this fun little egg-cutter. It's another kitchen appliance I bought because it was red and pretty and matched my kitchen. I've owned it for more than a year, and this was it's original cooking debut. Are you noticing a pattern? Yes, I am a little financially irresponsible.

 But how fun is this?! Three little presses, and the eggies were completely and perfectly sliced and diced. I don't care who you are, that's a good time.

 Throw it all in a big ol' bowl with 1/2 cup each of chopped onions and sweet pickle relish, and she-ZAM: 'Tader salad is born.

So here's to hoping the 'tader salad turns out better for the party guests than the relationship did for that boy... and to hopes that the party it is being made for doesn't turn out like a Ron "Tader Salad" White story.

Flashback to 1803

...no, not the year. The house number in Laramie, Wyoming -- 1803 Apt. B., to be exact. Yesterday I spent the afternoon with my former college roomie, Lizzard. Then we spent the evening with our other former roomie, BigStar, at Lizzard's engagement party.

This the three of us the Halloween after we moved in to our sweet little home at 1803B:

A lot of awesome things happened at 1803B, a lot of which involved auto timers for self portraits. We're cool like that. We also cooked a lot in our little apartment in teckerville, so it only made sense that we spent a little time in the kitchen on my visit. Lizzard and I made Pioneer Woman's Bacon-Wrapped Jalapeno Poppers.

Do you know who the Pioneer Woman is? You should. You really should, especially if you like to make magic happen in your kitchen. Cook everything PW tells you to, because it will always end well. This was me and BigStar's conversation the day before:

BigStar: What time are you going to head to the party?
LauraBelle: Early afternoon, after we get done cooking with PW. We're making the jalapeno poppers.
BS: Have you ever really thought about how creepy it is that we talk about PW like we're close intimate friends?
LB: No, I think that's normal. We're friends online.
BS: Ya, except she has no idea who we are. I think that's called stalking... literally.

So be it. Internet stalk PW. We do. It's totally worth it for these poppers.

Start with a big mound of jalapenos.

 Then mix together the cream cheese, green onions and shredded cheddar.

 Fill the jalapenos with the cream cheese, then wrap them lovingly in bacon.

 Doesn't Lizzard make a great hand model?

At this point, we were discussing the oddity of taking step-by-step pictures of us cooking a recipe from a cookbook that has step-by-step photos.

LB: Do you think we could get rich and famous by making a cookbook about PW's cookbook?
Lizzard: Kind of like Julie & Julia, but with PW?
LB: Ya, like that. We could take pictures of us following the pictures. Then we'll write a blog about it and publish our own cookbook, based on PW's cookbook.
Lizzard: Or we could just paste our faces over her face on the cover of her cookbook.
LB: That does sound easier. Think people would buy that?
Lizzard: Oh, definitely. I would.

We're total creeps.

Back to the cooking. After all the little jalapenos are snuggled into little bacon blankets, bust out your favorite barbecue sauce. Stubb's was a signature item at 1803B:

Smother the poppers with the barbecue sauce. We were suppose to use a fancy basting brush, but we chose to just pour it all over and then spread it around with our fingers instead. You can use a brush if you think you are fancier than Lizzard and I.

Then cook them. I recommend going to another room while these are cooking. I have never had the urge to eat raw bacon before, but these smelled so good it took all my restraint to not grab one right of the oven and pop it in my mouth. Luckily, the raw bacon deterred me. If raw bacon doesn't totally gross you out, you'll want to leave the room. Better yet, leave the house. These smell that delicious while they are cooking.

Give it an hour or so, then prepare to wow party guests with these little babies:

 Speaking of party... meet the guest of honor for our little party:

Aren't they smiley and happy? Congratulations on your engagement, Lizzard and Tyler! After all the cooking, we had a wonderful party to celebrate Tyler putting that pretty ring on Lizzard's finger.

Despite a handful of other people in the same room, we chose to use the self-portrait timer to take our picture again. It was a 20-minute ordeal full of giggling and silliness that could have been shortened and simplified by just saying, "Hey, push this camera button for us."

But simplicity just wasn't the style in 1803.

Confessions of a compulsive baker

Welcome to my kitchen.

Well, this is actually my old kitchen, taken the last time my compulsive baking got out of control. I started off making a couple dozen Christmas cookies to force myself into a holiday spirit. Before I knew it, I had thumbprint cookies, chocolate cookies, peppermint cookies, chocolate striped/peppermint cookies and every sprinkle known to man stacked in my little Kansan kitchen. And a crock pot feast stewing in the background. 

 

This is totally a healthy way to deal with holidays away from home.

Fast forward four months -- another holiday nears, and another kitchen falls victim to an all-day baking marathon. My intentions were innocent enough. I just wanted to make something nice to take to [D]'s house for Easter brunch.

I started scouring my library of cookbooks... as I've previously mentioned, decision making isn't my strong suit. How could I make just one tasty treat when I have a whole cabinet full of delicious recipes?

It started by wanting to try something new. I found a "Celebrations Made Easy" cookbook in a bargain bin at Big Lots a few weeks ago and couldn't help myself. It turned out to be a fantastic find, if for nothing more than this recipe:

It had fresh blueberries in it, so I considered it a health food. Until I doused it with a nice coating of sugar.

The batter was amazing delicious, but I'm always nervous about debuting a new recipe to a large crowd. Just in case this mess of blueberries and sugar turned into a pan full of trolls, I figured I better make a tried and true treat as well.

Hello, Best-Ever Apple Cake. It is so adequately named.

With the blueberry shortbread in the oven, I started peeling apples. Don't apples look funny naked?

Add a good coating of sugar and cinnamon to make them look a lot less funny and a lot more tasty.  

Make a couple layers of cake batter and apples:

 And sha-zam! The Best-Ever Apple Cake is ready to start baking, too.

In the meantime, the blueberry shortbread has formed the perfect golden crust.

Think about how exponentially better the top of a blueberry muffin is compared to the plain ol' bottom. This is pretty much like a whole pan of blueberry muffin tops. Hot diggity.

Since my Christmas cookie spree, I've added a new element of awesomeness to an all-day baking binge.

I finally stopped mooching off my office during the week and driving to gas stations five times a day during weekends and bought a coffee maker when I moved to Ohio. Just another excuse to never leave my house between Friday at 5 p.m. and Monday at 8 a.m.... er, 8:30 a.m.

Somewhere between the first and second pot of coffee, my little apple cake came out of the oven. 

 Oh, and then there were scones.

I really just like the word, scone. It makes me think of sconces, which is another very cool word. Someday, when HGTV comes to re-decorate my house, there will be a lot of sconces involved.  

Do you feel smarter for reading my blog yet? 

Or do you just want me to shut up and bring you scones?

Big, fluffy, maple and cinnamon-y scones.

Another pot of coffee, a heap of cheesy potatoes fixed up in the crock pot, a major kitchen cleaning and a Netflix season of The Office later, and my day was complete. Sometimes it's just hard being me.

Blackberry + beef recipes = true Love

*That's saying a lot. I've been accused of being averse to the L word a time or two*

But I do love beef recipes delivered directly to my Blackberry phone. I also love lists. Particularly shopping lists. You find me a fella who will look up delicious recipes based on beef cuts within seconds, then organize a shopping list categorized by grocery section... then we might talk.

In the meanwhile, meet Beef For Dinner mobile.

caliAGchick and I were contemplating dinner plans this evening over a nice, brisk walk in the park. We had some pre-cut skirt steak thawing in the fridge: perfect for fajitas. Normally, I would marinate fajita meat overnight, or at least a couple hours before cooking. But we needed fajitas, pronto, and I was not interesting in running home to ask Sandra Lee or the Crook County CowBelles (my two favorite cookbooks) for advice.

Oh, wait... let me introduce you again... this is Beef for Dinner Mobile. He's full of great advice. Just type "beef for dinner" into your mobile web browser, and you'll be BFF in no time.

I typed in fajitas; it gave me ten options. I picked Classic Beef Fajitas with Galic & Lime; it made me a shopping list. It told me what to get in the fresh produce isle, what to look for in bread & baked goods, the condiments section and the meat case. Why, thank you, Beef for Dinner Mobile! I was in and out of the store in ten minutes.

I saved the recipe (for free, of course), to be brought back up once I was home.

Then I used all the muscles I had to squeeze fresh lime juice. Unfortunately, neither my Blackberry nor the Beef for Dinner site was helpful in that. After some strenuous effort, I managed to miss the counter enough times to splash nearly two tablespoons in the dish.

 I poured the lime juice, some fresh minced garlic, and pepper over the steak strips. Then I cheated and dumped my pre-cut peppers and onions in the skillet. I added a fun sprinkle of Chugwater Chili seasoning -- just a little taste of Wyoming, compliments of one of my dearest college roomies.

The beef got a similar dash of Chugwater Chili love and started sizzlin'.

I whipped it all together with some fresh cilantro, and there you have it:

Dinner was done and served just as caliAGchick got home. She suggested I quit my job and become a full-time nanny. I reminded her how slightly irresponsible I've been known to be, and we agreed it was best I stuck to cooking for her.

Topped off with some tortilla strips, cheese and avacado slices, it was the perfect little feast.

I asked caliAGchick if it was odd I've started taking pictures of all my meals before eating lately, and she assured me that was normal... as long as I didn't expect her to wait until the photo session was done to dig in. Deal.

Move over, Kraft.

The blue box just got its mac & cheese butt kicked.

Last weekend while [D] and I were driving home from the Sugar Shack, we had a long talk about our personal fitness and wellness goals while chowing down maple chocolate coconut haystacks. She told me a little saying I'd never heard before: "Nothing tastes as good as the feeling of being skinny." We both laughed, although there are times I think that might be right. Last night was NOT one of those times.

caliAGchick's mom sent us a recipe for Chipolte Mac & Cheese last week. I've been dying to try it since the second it arrived in my e-mail inbox. Last night we prepared a cheesy little feast.

It started with this:

Buttery, garlic bread crumbs.

Then I chopped up some of these:

Meanwhile, caliAGchick started cooking up the noodles and was working on the delicious meatloaf she whipped together to go with it.

This is where it starts tasting better than a hot beach bod:

We're dumping the noodles in a mixture of heavy whipping cream, milk and butter. Nearly six cups of it in all.

Then comes the first pound of cheese. Yes, I said the first pound. As in, there is more than one pound of cheese in this.

Freshly grated, extra-sharp cheddar cheese. It was all suppose to be white cheddar, but I like a little variety. The next full pound of cheese was extra-sharp yellow cheddar.

Once that melted into a oohey-gooey-cheesy slurry, we added in the chilies and poured it into the baking dish. We smothered it in the bread crumbs and popped this little baby in the oven.

Meanwhile, Bobcat put together three little wedge salads that could have passed as artwork. Really tasty artwork. 

Then the cheese and meatloaf sauce started bubbling in the oven. We pulled it out and gathered around the stove, staring... waiting... wanting to disregard the fact that putting the macaroni in our little mouths right out of the oven would have burned our tongues to a crisp.

When the steam cleared, we finally dug in.

For one night, that was better than being skinny. Well, it was better than being skinny this morning at breakfast, too. And I bet my feelings don't change by tonight either.

I think you'll agree. Give it a try. Next time I don't feel like being skinny ever again and make this, I think I'll cut the bread crumb topping in half so it gets a little crispier. And I'll probably wear elastic pants.

Enjoy!