Okay. . . I'll admit it. I don't cook as much as I should or would like to. . . but right now, at this exact moment, I actually have an excuse. My new kitchen is an absolute wreck (see image at left). This photo is actually from moving day one. I can not tell you how much more disastrous it looks at this point, after a week or so of moving things in and trying to find a happy home for everything in a kitchen which has surprisingly much less drawer space than the old apartment did.

Also of note, I am now having to become accustomed to cooking on a dreaded ELECTRIC stove. Who ever thought of electric stoves? Can anything really replace an open flame underneath your pot?

That being said, I have made my first attempt at cooking something in the house other than microwave lasagna or ham sandwiches. It was, of course, a classic. . . Sauce Piquante. There are, sadly, no pictures of the food - because who knows where the camera is now? It's probably buried under the lawnmower in the middle of the living room floor. . .

Anyhow, here's my recipe for Sauce Piquante, passed down from mom. She adds sausage to hers now, but I left that out since I am no huge fan of sausage. I've seen other recipes that are much more complicated. . . but why bother when this is so good and so simple?

Sauce Piquante
2 lbs. beef stew meat
2 cans Rotel
1/2 onion, diced
1 T. Vegetable oil
1 small (8 oz? 6 oz?) can of tomato sauce

Heat the vegetable oil (or butter if you've stupidly left the oil at the old apartment) and toss in the onion. Sauté the onion until it starts to wilt. . . turns translucent. That's it. Then, toss in the stew meat, and I always sprinkle some Tony Chachere's on it, but not too much, otherwise it'll all be too salty. Brown the meat, then lower the fire (or pretend fire if you have an electric stove) to low. Add the Rotel, and tomato sauce and mix well. Cover the pot and let it simmer for about two hours. Spoon over rice.

This is one of my comfort foods, and always reminds me of home. It's also one of the few dishes that my dad cooked when I was growing up. . . Sauce Piquante, roast, brisket, and bbq. I guess it has enough meat in it to count as man food.

So, I'm going to cheat and not include a recipe here at all. If you're so inclined to cook this mystery dish, you can haul out your copy (or check one out at your local public library where there are tons of librarians just WAITING to help you) of Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking Volume One. . . then turn to page 407. There, on that very page, you will find. . . are you ready for this? Foie de veau a la moutarde. . . aka Liver with Mustard, Herbs and Bread Crumbs.

I have to confess, I've owned my copy of Julia's cookbook (and Louisette and Simone) for over a year and haven't cooked any of the recipes. I had decided when I first acquired the book (through nefarious means) that I needed to eat better - like a FRENCH person. I was going to live off of recipes from the book. And then I actually started to look at the recipes and quickly changed my mind. I think that's why I was so fascinated when I began to read Julie and Julia. Julie had made the same decision and followed through with it. In a way I envy her, and in a way I'm glad that she did it, so I know in advance that I'm better off cooking a Julia Child recipe once every two years or so.

When I was reading Julie and Julia, there were a couple of recipes that she mentioned that really caught my attention and stood out to me. I'm sure that this is a fairly common experience. . . Miss Powell is an entertaining storyteller after all. So, this recipe was one of those that really caught my attention. . . and since there are no lobsters writhing around in tanks in Donaldsonville. . .

Okay, I'm going to be honest here. My dad fries beef liver about once a year. My mom always refuses to be in the house when this happens and rarely eats it herself, always in a gravy, never fried. I've never been able to handle liver or do the cooking myself because the texture of it raw really freaks me out. However, I would always eat a piece when dad fried it up (although I won't go near it in a gravy). Since I've been out of my parents house for a little over ten years, and fried liver isn't always that easy to find in restaurants. . . . okay, there's no real justification for craving liver. However, that IS the one recipe that I really wanted to try. I don't know how many people that I've told that I was cooking a Julia Child liver recipe tonight. I've sent Sarah at least six e-mails trying to convince her to come and visit me in my lonely apartment and to experience this with me. . . Alex has even run away across the entire state. . . I can't imagine why, but no one wanted to be here. . . which leads me to my question. . . what did Julie and what's his name do with all of their leftovers? Imagine this. . . she was cooking every day. Most of these recipes serve 6-8 people. . . and sure your friends come over. . . when you're cooking lobster. . . but what do you do with all of the leftover liver?

That is for me to know, and you to find out. . . ha ha ha ha ha. . .

(Actually, it came out quite tasty, if you were wondering.)

When it comes down to it, you can group recipes into a very few amount of categories. There are the recipes that you keep telling yourself that you're going to try. There are recipes that you look at and think that you would never take the time to make or would never want to eat. There are the recipes that you've tried once or twice and remember fondly. . . and there are the recipes that you absolutely can not live without. This is one of those recipes that I absolutely can not live without. . . not because it blew my mind the first time that I made it. . . just because it's good. It's real food, the kind of food that my mom would have made when I was growing up - if she had cooked more, and if my dad would have been willing to eat stew.

The recipe actually comes from a cookbook that my elementary school compiled when I was in third grade, courtesy of Mrs. Norma Nix. (Her son was a year above me and a real jerk - which did not keep Maria from having a huge crush on him in high school.) I never got around to making it, though, until a few years ago. . . when I was going through this phase of romanticising life on the prairie and wishing that I had been a pioneer. . . spending long days outside and evenings in a flannel nightgown by the fire. . . with a garden out back, a cold cellar, and thirteen children running around barefoot and dirty with the puppy dogs in the back yard.

Chuck Wagon Stew
1 tsp. sugar
1/4 c. flour
2 lb. cubed beef
2 Tbsp. shortening
2 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. pepper
1 tsp. chili powder
1 bay leaf
2 tomatoes, peeled and quartered
1 (10.5 oz.) can beef broth
6 small potatoes
6 small carrots
6 small onions
3 or 4 stalks celery (I never use this because celery is gross)
1 c. frozen peas (And I have never once remembered to buy peas, so this always gets omitted too)

Combine sugar and flour. Coat beef and brown in shortening. Add seasonings, tomatoes, and broth to meat. Cover and simmer 1 to 1 1/2 hours or until tender. Stir in vegetables, omitting the peas. Cover and cook about 30 minutes. Add peas. Cover and cook about 15 minutes.

Aside from the time that it takes to cook, this is a really EASY recipe - translation, you don't have to chop the veggies which equals awesome in my book. Ha. I'm such a lazy cook.