Would you, could you, in the rain?

Angela's parents came over to visit this past weekend and I went into a bit of a panic - she thought it was no big deal: just clean to parentally-acceptable levels (which aren't that far from the everyday anyway) and make sure we have seltzer in the fridge. Sounds great in theory, but I started worrying about the menu.

Visits to my family revolve around food - before I've even got my bag off of my shoulder after walking through the door to my parents' apartment, my father starts talking about what's in the freezer, or marinating, or left over from last nights' dinner. For me to show up at a family member's house without there being food (or at the very least, beer) on the table is unthinkably foreign.

All sorts of equivocating on my part went into the thing, but the long and the short of it was, we ended up getting an eight-pound ham and went out to a diner for breakfast anyway. The diner was the plan from the beginning (I had missed that part) and the ham was on sale.

Even when you discount the bone, eight pounds is a lot of ham. The bone will go into split pea soup but the trimmed meat is going to be making its way into pretty much everything this week - sandwiches, pasta sauces, mac 'n cheese, but the most satisfying addition to me is to scrambled eggs.
I don't want to annoy the bacon lovers in the audience but eggs and ham, green or not, match better on a plate than bacon and eggs do - the ham negates the need for both salt and pepper at the table, melds better with onions and cheese, and can be fried in butter without going over the top. Plus, you can cube it; try that with a slab of bacon.


Ingredients:

• 1 1/2 cups cubed ham
• 3 eggs
• 1/4 cup shredded american or cheddar cheese
• 1/4 cup chopped onion
• 2 tbsp cream or milk
• 2 tsp butter
• Splash of hot sauce (Tabasco or Louisiana Hot)
  

• Green onions to garnish

The Gist:

Melt the butter in a pan over medium heat. Add onions and ham and fry until both are lightly browned.

Scramble the eggs in a bowl with the milk or cream; add to the pan. Tip the pan back towards you and scrape the egg away from you so it keeps moving over the heat, cooking slowly. Be patient. Add hot sauce and cheese as you cook the eggs. Keep it moving until the eggs are almost but not quite cooked through and plate immediately - they'll finish cooking on the plate. Top with green onions.

Serve with toast, orange juice and coffee or, if you're like us, just plop the thing down on a table and stick a couple of forks in it. Serves 2 if you feel like sharing.

Thatsa Spicy Meataball

At the risk of giving up every Italian grandmother's secret, I need to tell you: there's nothing magical about pasta sauce. The memories associated with it, sure, I know the drill: giant copper pots, wooden spoons, big bunches of herbs, clouds of steam whenever lids are lifted, but the ingredients themselves are almost always the same no matter who you ask. The food is secondary.

Just because it isn't magical, though, doesn't mean that there isn't a trick to it. I admit that there's a trick to my pasta sauce just like everybody else's but it's something more fundamental than a pinch of sugar, a dash of hot sauce or using sweet basil instead of regular basil: instead of using large amounts of different kinds of ground meats, I use a combination of lean beef, fresh spinach - tomatoes are nice by themselves and all, but a real meal needs vegetables in it, preferably green ones - and mushrooms: there's something about a spinach-mushroom combination that satisfies my stomach almost exactly the same way meat does. It's textural, definitely, but beyond that I can't say.

I should probably warn you before you start clearing out space in your freezer that I don't make sauce by the gallon, either - I used to do that until I realized two things: that, not having an Italian grandmother's genes coursing through my veins, I just don't eat that much pasta and sauce and that, while this sauce is great on pasta it's awful on pizza - pizza sauce is a base not a main attraction, and needs to be salty, finely textured and mostly ignorable. Pasta sauce, on the other hand, needs to weigh down your fork and doesn't need to be spread over much.
This recipe will feed 3-4 depending on if anybody wants seconds. It's also horribly imprecise because grandma did get one thing right - you need to be adding spices a bit at a time until it tastes right, and it's a pain to measure. I've made it as easy as I can.

Oh, and making this vegetarian is a snap: just replace the beef with another handful of spinach. It tastes fantastic either way.

Ingredients:

• 1 small yellow onion, diced
• 2 cloves garlic, coarsely chopped
• 1 tbsp olive oil
  

• 1 small can tomato paste
• 1 regular-sized can diced tomatoes
• 1 cup water
• 6-8 oz. 93% lean ground beef
• 2 big handfuls fresh leaf spinach, stems removed
• 1 big handful sliced mushrooms
• 1 tsp white sugar

spices:

Largest amounts of:

• oregano
• thyme
• garlic salt
• paprika
• parsley

Smaller amounts of:

• red pepper flakes
• cumin
• celery salt
• cayenne pepper
• basil
  

The Gist:

You'll need two medium saucepans. In the one, combine the tomato paste, the diced tomatoes, the water, the sugar and the spices. put over low heat to simmer. In the other, saute the onions and garlic in the olive oil until translucent. Add the beef and cook through. There shouldn't be much grease in the pan; add the contents to the sauce pot and stir to combine.

Steam the spinach with water and a little bit of olive oil in the pot that used to have the beef in it over medium heat until it has halved in size, about 5 minutes. Add it to the sauce pot.

Saute the mushrooms in a little bit of olive oil in the same pot over medium heat until they give up their moisture, about 5 minutes. Add them to the sauce pot.

Cook the sauce over low heat, stirring occasionally, until you're ready to serve. Spoon over pasta and top with grated Parmesan cheese.