The Pork Boys Do Autumn

Your Head Trucker is delighted to report that cool weather has finally arrived in Texas, after a sweltering summer of 100-plus-degree days. For a few hours on Saturday morning, the outside temperature was down to 35 degrees here, though it has since warmed back up and is settling into the fall pattern of 70s during the day and 50s at night. By happy coincidence, M.P. had a Friday and Monday off from work, making a long, leisurely weekend in which he was able to create some luscious meals, and we were finally able to bring out the autumn tableware, including autumn-leaf plates, chargers, goblets, and damask.

On Friday, M.P. whipped up a couple of off-the cuff ideas for a simple dinner. First was a skilletful of frittata, that is to say, a simple quiche-like egg-and-cheese mixture loaded with bits of ham, mushrooms, and black olives. Yummy.  The second item was a new creation, chicken breasts slowly baked in a sweet marinara sauce and covered with three cheeses:  Asiago, Swiss, and Parmesan.  The picture does not do justice to the luscious taste and moist, toothsome texture of this dish.  Mmmmm good!  Triangles of simple garlic toast rounded out the menu nicely.

We decided to name our three-cheese entree Chicken Trevi since we ate it while watching Three Coins in the Fountain (1954), which neither of us had seen before, and which we enjoyed very much.  It's a romantic comedy about three youngish women in Rome, and their three prospective husbands:  a chick flick filled with lots of gorgeous fashions and eye-popping CinemaScope backgrounds shot in Rome, Venice, and the Italian hill country that make you want to jump on a jet and go there right now!  Clifton Webb as a rich, peevish expat author gets off some hilarious wisecracks, too.

Not the greatest movie ever made, but a simple story with a happy ending that pleases the heart, along with the lush, romantic title theme repeated numerous times.  You know, there really is nothing at all wrong with that; no fighting, no killing, no cussing, no orgies, and no psychopathic madmen running wild.  Why should any of those things be necessary in a light, romantic movie, anyway?

But back to cuisine.  On the Saturday, after waking to chilly temperatures, M.P. - who dearly loves all the rich, hearty autumnal foods, up to and including Thanksgiving dinner - at long last got to make his first big cold-weather dish:  a huge pot of beef and barley stew, including cubes of chuck steak, pearl onions, potatoes, carrots, and a splash of Guinness Extra Stout in a rich, dark-brown roux, simmered all day on the back of the stove.  (Mick started cooking at 3 p.m., and we sat down to dinner at 11.)  Oh my, my, my, my, my!  It's some kind of good, I tell you what, boys.  We are still eating on it, and loving it.

For a side dish, M.P. dreamed up a little tomato-and-onion casserole made with cream cheese and topped with buttered breadcrumbs.  He carmelized the onions in a skillet, and when they were ready, he added in the cream cheese and layered the onion mix alternating with blanched, peeled sliced tomatoes and breadcrumbs before baking the whole thing in the oven.  Delish!

Along with that, we had enormous homemade muffins, made from unbleached flour, that came out very light and fluffy, almost cake-like, with a nutty sprinkle of crushed sunflower and sesame seeds on top: a perfect accompaniment to the other two items, and altogether a thoroughly scrumptious, belly-warming meal with which to celebrate the arrival of autumn.  I don't care what the calendar says:  our summer lasts from May to October, and autumn comes to Texas only when summer decides to mosey on out.  Of course when it does, you must change from your white straw to your black felt; but then everybody knows that.

For dessert, M.P. conjured up his famous Granny in a Blanket, a delightful invention from the first days of our acquaintance:  to wit, Granny Smith apples individually wrapped in pastry dough and baked in the oven, with a sprinkling of cinnamon sugar.  The blanket of dough makes them come out meltingly soft and sweet - absolutely luxurious with a helping of vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce, as shown here.  You can take my word it, boys - you ain't never tasted anything so good in all yore life.

I have to report that this wonderful dinner did us in for the rest of the long weekend - we both slept a lot and only got up to get another bowl or two of that marvelous beef stew, which we hadn't had in ages.  We slept very soundly, too, as you might imagine.

At last, on Monday evening, M.P. decided to belly up to the stove once more for a quick little supper, and with his thinking cooking cap on devised a rather different taste treat:  Tortillas de Sobras, accompanied by Baked-Potato Chips.

The tortillas de sobras were simply a way to use up some leftover brisket that someone gave us last week, along with some leftover chicken bits:  these were mixed with some Ro-Tel and sauteed a few minutes, then drained and rolled up in flour tortillas topped with cheddar cheese and broiled a few minutes until just beginning to crisp.  Very tasty.

Now the baked-potato chips are a sensation you fellas really should try at home.  The recipe is simplicity itself:  take a leftover, already-baked potato or two, cut them in thin slices like silver dollars, and lay them on a cookie sheet; M.P. likes to put parchment paper down instead of spraying the pan with oil, but either way is fine.  Shake salt and pepper and a liberal dusting of Parmesan cheese and bacon bits over the potato slices, give them a quick spray or dribble of cooking oil, and bake for 15-20 minutes at 350 degrees.  Utterly scrumptious.  I added a dollop of sour cream to mine.

And that, along with our usual White Zin, was our little Welcome-to-Autumn festival.  Hope you fellas had some good weekend eating too.