The Devil You Know

I didn't think I liked deviled eggs. I didn't have a reason really, except that they had been categorized in my head next to the other foods that seemed to surface at holiday parties my grandparents threw when I was a kid that I refused to eat - pickled beets in particular. There was something about the consistency of the eggs, slimy whites and chalky yolks, ice cold and impossible to pick up, let alone eat, that didn't do much for me.

That was 20 years ago, and I figured not long ago that I should give the things one last shot. I'm glad I did, because in the process I found yet another use for one of my favorite things: pastrami.

When I broached the idea of putting meat into deviled eggs to some friends at a get-together I threw a few weeks ago, they reacted with universal...let's call it suspicion, though it might've been closer to disgust. It isn't that weird an idea, though - hard-boiled eggs have been intrinsically paired with ham for years and years and pastrami, though not a pork product, shares a lot of the same characteristics with ham while being a little subtler, a little spicier and slightly less versatile.
This recipe is perfectly tasty without the pastrami though, so leave it out if you must. Keep in mind, though, that you might have to increase the quantity of salt to compensate.

Ingredients:

• 6 Eggs
• 1 heavy pinch of salt
  

• 3-4 slices deli pastrami, chopped
• 1/2 tbsp butter
  

• 1/2 handful Green Onions, chopped
• 1 tbsp Mayo
• 1 tsp Dijon Mustard
• 1/4 tsp Lemon Juice
• 1 tsp Tabasco
• Salt and Pepper to taste
• Paprika
  

The Gist:

Hard-boil the eggs. There are as many ways to this as there are people who make them, but I actually like Emeril's method - cover the eggs with water in a pan, bring them to a boil over medium heat, boil for 2 minutes, remove from heat, cover, and let sit for 11 minutes before cooling and peeling.

Fry the chopped pastrami in a pan with the butter until crispy while your eggs are cooling.

Cut the hard boiled eggs in half lengthwise and remove and reserve the yolks in a bowl. You can use a spoon for this but if you're careful and if the eggs are cooked just right, you can pop the yolks out of the egg halves with your fingers without damaging the whites.

Mash the clumps out of the yolks with a fork. Add the rest of the ingredients and mix well. Spoon the yolk / mayo mixture back into the yolk shells, dust with paprika and chill in the fridge until serving.

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.