The Second Day Of Lent. And Then, There Were Brownies.

Fact: Darling Daughter has given up sweets for Lent. 

Fact: Regardless of Lent, neither of my children eats homemade baked goods that have been out of oven for more than 48 hours – and usually, only 24. 

Fact: I baked brownies for Valentines Day. 

Fact: As of 7 a.m. this morning 10 brownies remained. 

Fact: Now there are seven.

What was I thinking? I’ve already given up chai tea lattes and Sauvignon Blanc for the next 38 days. So that leaves me with -- you guessed it-- brownies.

Seven of them.

Seven chocolate squares of perfect happiness. Delicately crispy on top, decadently moist and dense inside, and then, because the pan was parchment-lined, a fine layer of crust on the bottom. Kissed with cinnamon.

Make that six.

Somebody stop me. I’m begging.  To fend off the craving this evening, I’ve already crunched my way through a handful of raw broccoli, half a bag of baby carrots, a seedless cucumber (sliced and dressed with sour cream) and three ribs of celery (doused in ranch dressing). I’ve downed a liter of mandarin orange seltzer water, a hunk of cheddar cheese, several handfuls of whole grain Wheat Thins, and six prosciutto palmiers.  And to wash it all down? A brownie. Natch.

The only reason my mouth isn’t currently encircled in chocolate crumbs is because I have a fetish about scrupulously clean computer keyboards.

But if I wrap this up soon, I can get back to those brownies. They're in the kitchen, taunting me.  Or maybe – just maybe -- I’ll sprout a spine and will have the willpower to steer clear of them. At least until breakfast tomorrow morning. But first, let me share the recipe – adapted from one I found on The Food Network site.

Did anyone else hear that?  I think I hear something calling to me.  From the kitchen.  And I doubt it's the remaining half of bag of carrots.

No Glaze, No Nuts, No Goo – Brownies

8 ounces semi-sweet chocolate chips
4 ounces unsweetened chocolate, broken into squares
1 stick butter
1 ½ cups flour
1 ½ teaspoons baking powder
¼ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 cups sugar
4 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350. Prepare 13” x 9” pan by lining with parchment paper and spraying the paper with nonstick spray. Melt together chocolate and butter in the microwave, by heating on high for one minute, and then, allowing the mixture to rest for one minute before stirring. Whisk together flour, baking powder, salt and cinnamon. In a separate large bowl, whisk together the eggs, sugar and vanilla. Stir in melted chocolate mixture and then, fold in dry ingredients, taking care not to over mix. Spread batter (which will be thick) in prepared pan. Bake 30 minutes, then, allow to cool in pan on a rack. When completely cooled, cut into squares and serve. 

It's Lent Chez Wiles. No Sodas, Sweets or Starbucks. Game On.

Life is a tad bit competitive Chez Wiles. 

Not when it comes to anything life-affirming or character-building, mind you.  We’re not into competing for good grades or good health or good deeds.  We’re more into racing for control over the car radio.   “Who would be a better driver” is another ongoing debate.  OK.  “Debate” is probably too civilized a word.  What I’m looking for is a word that describes a competition where the loudest and most persistent person wins.  “Argument” comes to mind.

“Name that artist” (musical artist, that is -- we’re not all that aesthetically informed) is another favorite and is in play 24/7.  To get the game rolling, all any one of us has to do – whether we’re in Starbucks, or the car, or a restaurant with a half dozen uninitiated friends – is blurt out “REO Speedwagon,” and we’re off to the races.

So you can imagine how we treat the holy season of Lent.  Last night, as we feasted on the traditional Shrove Tuesday dinner of pancakes and sausage and bacon and then, because it was so very good, more sausage, we boasted about what we intended to “give up” for Lent.  (Of course I’ve got a great pancake recipe.  Click here.)

Although I’m pretty sure the Church wouldn’t approve of our attitude, I ventured forth first, boldly vowing to set aside my beloved venti-nonfat-no-foam-chai-tea-latte for 40 days.  Which is all to say that if you hold any Starbucks stock, be forewarned that the next few weeks could be a little bleak as my considerable support is withheld.

As expected, Darling Daughter upped the ante.  Not only is she giving up a lifelong habit of nail-gnawing, she and a girlfriend have also decided to give up sweets.  Believe me, of the three of us Chez Wiles, she is taking the toughest route.  And is also most likely to succeed.

After some thought, and -- to be honest – after itemizing all of the habits he would never abandon, Son decided to forego soft drinks.  I don’t mean to be a doubter, but suffice to say I am considering purchasing a chain and padlock to assist in his efforts.  And, perhaps, a taser.

Darling Daughter, however, had no qualms about voicing her doubts about me.  There was no way, she insisted, I could go without chai.

Oh really?  OH REALLY?  Well how about no chai AND no alcoholic beverages? 

Dang.  Did I say that out loud?  'Cause what I meant, of course, was no wine.  Um.  No red wine.  On weeknights.  Unless I’m out with friends.  Or at home.  With clean glasses.

Sigh.  Let’s give it a shot.  Last Lenten season, I used the dregs of a bottle of white wine to make a wonderfully savory pan roasted chicken with pancetta.  Tonight, I poured out the last of a bottle of Kim Crawford Sauvignon Blanc to create a new chicken dish.  And it was really tasty (two thumbs up from the kids) – with red bell peppers and mushrooms (which neither kid touched).

I think I’ll try it again soon – and next time, in the slow cooker. 

There’s only one other thing that might make it a little better – a lovely chilled glass of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc.  I’ll have to let you know.

After Easter.

Drunken Chicken With Peppers, Potatoes and Mushrooms

8 chicken thighs, well-seasoned with kosher salt and pepper

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 red bell pepper, sliced in strips, strips then halved

4 large shallots, peeled and sliced thin

8 ounces mushrooms, sliced

2 lbs small red potatoes

1 1/2 cups (more or less) dry white wine

2 tablespoons whole grain mustard

2-3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

1 teaspoon dried thyme leaves

In a large, lidded, nonstick skillet, quickly brown chicken over high heat (3-4 minutes each side).  Remove chicken.  Reduce heat to medium high and stir in olive oil.  When heated through, sauté bell pepper, shallots and mushrooms until slightly soft and browned on the edges.  Stir in potatoes (cut in half, if too large).  Pour in wine, balsamic vinegar, mustard and thyme.  Heat to boiling.  Return chicken to pan.  Season with salt and pepper, place lid on, lower heat to low, and simmer until chicken is very tender – about one hour.

After Three Decades, A Mac 'n' Cheese To Love.

When I was a kid in Charleston County's public school system, one of the mainstays of our lunches was macaroni and cheese. 

To be honest, I can’t attest to whether it was, indeed, "gross and raunchy," although I can testify to the fact that most servings returned, untouched, to the kitchen.  I can’t say the pasta was overcooked, although I can say I never identified a single, unbroken piece of macaroni.  I can’t say it was under-seasoned, but puh-leaze – it was served on a institutional green divided tray.  Need I say more?

Not one morsel of that thick-skinned, rubbery, squared-up hockey puck crossed my lips.  Not once.  Instead, I set off on a course of avoiding macaroni and cheese for over 30 years.  This, despite being born and raised in the South, where the ubiquitous casserole graces most everyone’s holiday dinner table, church potlucks, work picnics and post-funeral home visitations.

I’m not saying we never had mac and cheese growing up.  The Winn-Dixie on Harborview Road often had that familiar blue box (their generic version, not Kraft) on sale, four for a dollar.  Prepared with milk and Parkay margarine, it was a predictable sidedish (along with canned green beans) to canned Hostess ham.

However, as soon as I was old enough to get away with saying “no thank you,” which, honestly, wasn't until I was old enough to vote, I never let the stuff  -- blue-boxed or otherwise -- touch my plate.

Imagine my surprise, then, when my own Darling Daughter became a mac and cheese aficionado, frequently ordering it for dinner when we're out, and, based on friend’s recommendations, suggesting restaurants serving superior mac and cheese.

Adding to the pressure, Son recently told me he was assigned to bring mac and cheese (for 16) to Room In The Inn (a church-based program providing food and shelter to the homeless).  OK.  Maybe it wasn't exactly a sign from God, but it was plainly time to give the homely dish another try.

It took some work, though.  I didn’t know what I liked – custard-based (with eggs) or roux-based (with flour).  I just knew I didn’t want what I’d had.

Lucky for me, I had a partner in eating.  Darling Daughter was more than willing to explain what makes a good mac and cheese.  The pasta has to be “loose” – which meant a roux-based, not egg-based, sauce.  It can’t taste like too much cheese – which mean 100% extra sharp cheddar was out.  And it couldn’t be too brown on top – which is easily resolved with a bread crumb topping.

After a couple of attempts, though, we’ve come up with what we think is a pretty darned good mac and cheese.  So good, I’ve even had it for breakfast.  Twice.

And suddenly, I’m looking forward to the next church potluck.  Sign me up.

Darling Daughter’s Macaroni & Cheese

2 tablespoons flour

2 tablespoons butter

1/8 teaspoon red pepper flakes

1 teaspoon kosher salt

1 ½ cups milk

½ cup heavy cream

1 teaspoon whole grain Dijon mustard

½ lb. cheddar cheese (not extra sharp), grated

¼ lb. fontina or gouda cheese, grated

¾ lb. macaroni (about three cups)

¼ cup breadcrumbs

2 tablespoons butter, melted

¼ lb. pancetta, diced (optional)

Make sauce.  In medium saucepan, melt 2 tablespoons butter and flour together over medium heat, stirring constantly.  (You’re making a “roux.”)  When well-combined and somewhat thickened, flour will have lost its “raw” taste.  Stir in red pepper flakes and 1 teaspoon kosher salt.  Using a whisk, very gradually stir in milk, whisking constantly.  Stir in cream and mustard.  Cook over medium heat, stirring frequently, for about 5 minutes, or until well-thickened and velvety.  Whisk in grated cheese, stir until smooth, and remove from heat.

Cook pasta.  In a large pot of well-salted (about 1/4 cup salt to 8 cups of water) boiling water, cook macaroni until barely done (“al dente”).  Before draining, reserve about 1 cup of hot pasta water.  Quickly drain (for this dish, it’s best if the pasta is not drained very well), and stir into cheese sauce.  Use your judgment here.  If the pasta mixture isn't "loose" enough, stir in some of the reserved pasta cooking water.  The resulting mixture should be loose, not too sticky.

Assemble. Stir together topping ingredients – breadcrumbs, melted butter and pancetta (if using).  Pour macaroni and cheese into casserole dish (or 6 to 8 individual ramekins).  Use fingers to sprinkle topping over.  Bake in preheated 400 degree oven until hot and bubbling – about 30 minutes.