Morsels of Megret

I am anti-frying. I hate the way it smokes up the house, and I don't appreciate getting up the next morning to the smell of stale fried food, either....not to mention that the scent also infiltrates my hair, clothes, and even the cat's fur. Yet last night, I turned to it as a last resort, and I'm glad I did. I finally pulled out my mandoline slicer and gave it a whirl (after two months of keeping it in its shiny new box). I successfully cut waffle fries from russet potatoes, and they looked wonderful (but kind of thin). I oiled them up with olive oil, salted them, and sent them to the oven to bake. Twenty minutes later, they emerged soggy and....gray. Yes, that's right. A weird, charcoal-colored gray, leading me to believe that the olive oil had smoked and become carcinogenic. I tossed them, and panicked since the fish was ready already. Ken came in and saved the day. Twenty more minutes and a hot skillet of oil later, we had lovely, scrumptious (yet not at all

I haven't given props yet on my blog to someone who inspires me culinarily more than most.... Paula Deen. It's not that she uses extra-technical savviness or know-how....it's just that she is a warm, Southern, hospitable lady who loves to cook for others. Though her recipes are not exactly on the list of the American Heart Association's "top ten" (by far), I turn to her sometimes....after all, what's life if you can't have a treat every now and then? I watch her show with enthusiasm....I look at her outfitted kitchen with a bit of envy....and I want so badly to crash through the television screen and get a hug from her cheery, grandma-self. I'd love to spend a day with her and just listen to her wisecracks and funny old sayings. And then, there's the food itself that she creates..... In honor of her, I am whipping up a batch of sausage balls this afternoon to serve at home group's "brunch" tonight. I am not the only home group

....but now I'm utterly exhausted. I created an early "Easter dinner" for my family tonight. I planned it so carefully, making sure I chose recipes from the book of all books, "Tastes of Georgia." True Southern comfort at its finest. One hot kitchen, one five-course Southern meal, and one 50s-era congealed blueberry salad later, this redheaded cook is "worn slap out." Hm. I think next week, Hamburger Helper will be calling my name?

I have come to realize that I am not a fan of French-style cooking. Whenever I see "herbes de provence" in a recipe (or bouquet d'garni, for that matter), I keep flipping the pages and pass it right by. I don't know what it is....the bland poultry, or the subtle spices that penetrate the entire house by day's end and make you sorry you even began cooking that dish. (I'm not a huge fan of thyme or rosemary.) Sunday is my day-before-grocery-shopping-day, so I haphazardly threw together all I had in the fridge and freezer and then went upstairs to browse the web for a recipe that would use them all (or most of them). I came up with a Rice-Chicken-Mushroom Casserole with true French-style seasonings. Ken gobbled it up....I pushed it around my plate with disdain. That will teach me to rearrange my menus in such a way that dishes like this one are all I have to lean back on come week's end. I think I would have rather had a McDonald's cheeseburger toda