BG News Food Blog

The Super Bowl is an easy out for any self-respecting food columnist. The only thing more synonymous with the Super Bowl than--duh--football is the marathon of stuffing one's face with wings, dip and a plethora of deep fried classics.

So, naturally, my column right before the big show should play to the tune of "Top 10 Ways to Give Your Friends Heart Attacks," or maybe, "44 Foods Shaped Like Drew Brees' Hair." Right?

Wrong-o.

Instead of following the path most travelled, I'm going to savagely take advantage of this platform allotted me to talk some major Super Bowl smack. Don't fret, though. I'll make it food related. Somehow.

Peyton Manning is the Man(wich)
Break out your favorite meat-product and chow down this Sunday while watching Peyton Manning be generally awesome. Aside from his unprecedented four MVP awards, his glimmering Super Bowl ring from '07, and his roguish good looks, the middle Manning is just plain hilarious. Remember when #18 was on "Saturday Night Live?" If his passes to Garcon are nearly as accurate as his throws that beam small children in the back/head, then the Colts have this one in the bag.

Reggie (Bruce) Wayne's Got Wings
Since Val Kilmer in "Batman Forever," there's been nothing that flies smoother into a party than buffalo wings in a variety of sauces. Chow down and sit back while Mr. Wayne dazzles the Saints' defensive secondary with his blazing speed and wits. So, according to my equation, Reggie = Batman and The Saints = The Joker. You, me and Heath Ledger all know how that equation pans out.

Reggie Bush Bakes Beans
Don't forget to adorn your dining room table with a piping hot crock pot of America's favorite sweet baked beans. Sure, Bush is talented. He's dangerous. He's elusive. But he's as inconsistent on the field as he was in Kim Kardashian's bedroom. I mean, why else would that relationship not have worked out? If elementary recess has taught me anything about beans, it's that "the more you eat, the more you toot," so to finish off my stretched metaphor, Reggie Bush is smelly.

The Saints are the Under (Mini Hot) Dogs
One thing we can all agree to celebrate is that, finally, yours truly can root for the team that's not coming into the game last place, far fetched and Bo-Sox-esque. If nothing else, the Colts are winners, which makes eating those crowd-pleasing, smile-winning mini hot dogs even more satisfying. And to all of you who don't have a team in the game Sunday and who naturally root for the underdogs, cut me a break. You're talking to the girl who's been an Indiana Pacers fan since birth. And I know that more than a few of you Browns fans out there feel my pain every time Brady Quinn steps into his uniform.

Let's play a game. I'll say a word, and you say the first word that pops into your brain.

Cat. (Meow). 

Carrot. (Top). 

Nancy Pelosi. (Miss Havisham).

Now let's try one that's a little harder. What do you think of when I say the word, "bachelor?" I asked this question to my buddy in class and he immediately said, "party." The kid next to him, whom I've never talked to before mind you, offered, "pad," and then an awkward giggle. Other popular responses were, "'s degree," "ette," and "the." 

I, on the other hand, immediately think of my dad's famous Bachelor's Special when the topic of unmarried males is brought up--and now that I think of it, perhaps that was my father's plan all along... 

The Bachelor Special is basically what McDonalds ripped off from my dad and called their "McGriddle." The only difference is that The Bachelor Special is heaven on earth instead of regret in stomach. A word of warning to those who attempt this recipe: a key ingredient is my dad's magic touch. So unless you are Kirby and can swallow my dad to gain his Copy Abilities, this blog is more informational than useful.

THE BACHELOR'S SPECIAL
This hangover-curing recipe begins with the making of pancakes. Either box or homemade versions will work--the only qualification is that the pancakes must be delicious and fluffy. An easy way to ensure that your pancakes don't get tough is to only flip them one time. No pressure or anything. Butter up the pancakes to your unhealthy liking.

This next part requires a certain je ne sais quoi, so practice really makes perfect. Brown your favorite brand of sausage and cut up into bite-sized pieces. While they are cooking, crack some eggs into a bowl and mix heartily with a splash of milk, a pinch of salt and a dash of pepper. Once the sausage is cooked or heated through, add the egg mixture. The goal is to get an egg and sausage patty that is about the size of a pancake and this is a lot more appetizing than the fast food counterpart.

Stack all of the delicious layers and douse in syrup. The Bachelor's Special is best if eaten in conjunction with the biggest glass of orange juice you can muster.

he men who have impacted my life are as varied as the phases I went through in high school (the Capri pants and tall sock phase was by far the worst). My dad taught me not to take people's crap; my fiancé taught me that people really can be perverted all the time; Reggie Miller taught me to feign injuries to get what I want.

I learned to take on the man when Jimmy Stewart went to Washington, and I learned how to forgive and forget when Harry Potter named his son Severus. 

But the best lesson I ever learned was to laugh at myself (at least as much as I laugh at others). I owe this education to one giant, fiery-haired, spaghetti noodle of a man -- Mr. Conan O'Brien.

To honor the funny man turned corporate punching bag, I've compiled a menu of all of my favorite Conan-inspired things. Consider it a menu to be enjoyed at the funeral of late night.

In the Year 3000 Island Dressing: In the year 3000, this dressing will still look like the gagged-up combo of mayo, ketchup, Tobasco sauce and pickles that it is made of.

The Max Weinburg Special: Just try eating a chicken breast or Heinz's spotted dick without feeling awkward.

Triumph the Insult Corn Dog: Making inappropriate comments to women becomes much easier while chomping on an apropos prop.

Conando Supreme: Todo es mejor en español. Bailé con el pepino. ¿Vea?

Masturbating bear claws: Perfect for those times you just want to enjoy a little solo satisfaction.

"Pride and Prejudice" is basically synonymous with every 13-year-old girl's (and 20-year-old food columnist's) dramatized view of her high school world. 

Longing looks past his locker. A knowing glance in Geometry. And when he says he doesn't date bookworm losers, what he really means is that he is kind of guarded and living with a huge burden of honor and duty.

Good old Jane might as well have told us Santa exists all over again. We're already leaving milk and cookies out for when Mr. Darcy shimmies down our chimneys.

The only remedy I can see is to expose the dark underbelly of Jane's world--the world of dowries, arranged marriages and women having to constantly wear dresses. The dark, non-indoor-plumbing world as our depressing friend Charles Dickens might see it.

So, in honor of marriages of convenience and other dashed dreams, I've compiled my favorite hot dog wrap recipes. Just because Mr. Darcy won't wrap up his dog for you doesn't mean you can't enjoy this tasty symbolism, 19th century realism-style.

Dear Santa, 
I've got a problem. 

No, not the kind of problem that makes Mom and Dad so flustered they resort to spelling in front of you even though you're twenty years old. My problem is more Christmas related and a lot less awkward. 

I want to get presents for all of my friends this year and I want to make sure they know I care about them. The only small pittance I can afford is those free Bibles the Gideons passed out at the beginning of the school year. And I'm not sure what my humbly-wrapped New Testament will say exactly to my Jewish friend. 

Tell Mrs. Claus, "Hey." She really doesn't get enough credit for living with you at home 364 days a year. 

Lots of love, 
Taylor 

For Your Secret Crush 
Mint has been playing double agent for the Holiday Camp and the Love Team for ages, being both a mild aphrodisiac and jolly childhood memory all at the same time. I love the idea of a glass jar filled with hot cocoa mix, wrapped together with some marshmallows (sprinkled with mint extract for subtle sexiness) and a giant peppermint stick (which is much less subtle). Just try to keep your memory of opening that first bike and the memory of your first kiss separate, or we'll have another awkward "George Costanza and his corned beef during sex" incident. 

For Your Dude-Bro Amigo 
Brownies don't have to be filled with pot to be addictive. Make any standard box brownie. I like to cook them just a few minutes short of done to get the perfectly moist square. But instead of frosting in the plain old way, melt down a few Butterfinger bars in the microwave. Pour the peanut-buttery mixture all over the top of the warm brownies, crumpling another of the candy bars over the top for good measure. Once they cool, the brownies will be gooey on the inside and crunchy on the outside. 

For Your Oddball Buddy 
Popcorn is the perfect canvas on which you can paint all sorts of weird and disturbingly good flavors. And if Yves Klein can paint blue squares and call it art, then you can convince that artistic, Etsy-loving, thrift-shop-wearing friend that this culinary gift is a frickin' Van Gogh. Start with a standard popcorn in a big bowl. Over low to medium heat, warm butter and brown sugar to get your standard caramel corn taste. From here, you can get creative. I've had awesome caramel corn seasoned with some leftover bacon grease that is just delicious. You could even try a little bit of peanut butter and jelly melted into the butter and brown sugar to get that great elementary school flavor without the glue.

I'm fairly certain all my professors are in cahoots, much like Digger Phelps' tie and high lighter are in cahoots to match in color on College Basketball Gameday. Between final projects, speeches, papers and schmoozing, I'm finding myself on my last proverbial nerve (because as we all know, no one can literally be on his or her last nerve). 

Needless to say, students are about as ready to come back to school after Thanksgiving break as Uncle Henry's pants were willing to stay buttoned after he finished his dinner. While the fading smell of pumpkin pie is still intermingling with the memory of Mom's face when you showed her your new tattoo, you are now realizing that one of the best culinary moments of the year is sadly over. 

Not only do you have to get through one more week and exams, but also you're now loaded up with armfuls of crusty stuffing and mushy potatoes that your family couldn't let you leave home without. But before you try to get back into those yoga pants and reach for the Special K and plain oatmeal, live Thanksgiving just a little while longer, and put those leftovers to good use. 

STUFFED CAKES (NO FROSTING REQUIRED) 
The worst feeling in the world is when you open up day old stuffing and it's all mushy from the condensation inside of the Tupperware. My microwave seems to get a kick out of this and only makes the situation worse when it turns my shmushy stuffing into warm shmushy stuffing. Instead of nuking your leftovers, try pan-frying the stuffing. Pack it tight into little cakes, and the end result is buttery, crunchy-on-the-outside, soft-on-the-inside awesomeness. 

MORNING-AFTER OMELETS 
Sauté your favorite breakfast veggies and meats in a large, buttered skillet pan until they are fully cooked and have taken on some color. Some of my never-fails are green peppers, mushrooms, ham and onions. In a bowl, whisk together eight eggs and three cups of leftover mashed potatoes. Once your fixins' are cooked the way you like them, pour the egg and potato soup over the top. Cook until right before the egg is completely done and top with as much cheese as you can manage. A quick trip under the broiler melts all the cheese and finishes the egg. Serve like you would a pie. Eat with as much fervor, also. 

IT'S CHICKEN SALAD, ONLY WITH TURKEY 
Shred up cold leftover turkey with your fingers until the pieces are bite sized and rustic looking. Next, cut up a fresh, juicy apple (I like pie apples for this) and put all the shreds and apple pieces into a bowl. Top with some mayo, but not so much that the mixture becomes like pudding with lumps. You want the mayo to bind the turkey and apple, not dominate them. Salt and pepper until your heart's content, adding nuts or vinegar for an extra splash of flavor.

Feeding yourself off campus for the first time is a lot like eating a Warhead (which, ironically, is a lot like going through the stages of grieving). 

First, there's denial. 
You hold that Warhead in your hand, chuckle at the silly cartoon man on the front and let the image of you, straight-faced and unaffected, dance in your mind as you pop the candy into your mouth. You say, "I'm bigger than this Warhead. I can handle this." Right, chief. 

Second comes anger. 
Your saliva glands burst in protest as the sour taste coats every part of your mouth. Some shout or throw things at this point. My brother has been known to give noogies in response to the Warhead's vicious lash. 

Third is bargaining. 
I also like to call this stage "begging." Surrounded by a gaggle of laughing friends, you beg for relief from this self-inflicted pain. You wonder, "Why didn't I just go with the Snickers?" Your friends are happy you didn't. 

The following stage is depression.
This is the stage where your tongue is just too tired to fight back and your brain is unable to come up with any probable reason why your hands would have put this horrid candy in your mouth in the first place. 

But, just as you slide into the final stage of acceptance, the Warhead rewards you with a sweet wave that washes over your yearning taste buds. Being separated from the safety of your always-there, fully prepared dorm food can be a tricky situation -- no matter how much you're looking forward to moving from Harshman to Scott Hamilton. One way to go through the off-campus grieving cycle faster is to be armed with a culinary backup plan. It's a lot harder to miss the odd snoring of a roommate who's five feet from you when you have a full stomach.

Total time: 25 min
Makes: 4-6 servings
Ingredients:
1 lb small shell pasta
2 tbsp olive oil
3 large cloves of garlic (minced if you want)
1/2 small onion
28 oz crushed Italian tomatoes
1/2 cup fresh basil leaves (torn in small pieces)
1 cup basil pesto sauce
1 cup ricotta cheese
1/2 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano


1. Bring a large pot of water to a boil and salt the water. Add small shell pasta and cook for about nine or 10 minutes. The pasta will be a little chewy. The pasta will soak up more juice and keep on cooking after we drain it, so we need it to be a little under cooked. 

2. Preheat a deep, big skillet or a medium saucepot over medium heat. Oil up the pot and add the onion and garlic. 

3. Cook, stirring a lot, for about five minutes or until the onions are mushy and look yellowish-clear. Add the tomatoes and stir. When the tomatoes come to a bubble, reduce the heat under the sauce to low. Stir in basil pieces to make them wilty. Season the sauce with salt and pepper, to your taste. 

4. Preheat your broiler to high. 

5. Drain your pasta shells and add them to a casserole dish with pesto sauce, the ricotta cheese and a handful of grated Parmigiano. 

6. Pour the hot tomato and basil sauce over the pasta. Pour as much as you like. 

7. Sprinkle mozzarella cheese over the pasta. You can add a final sprinkle of Parmigiano to the mozzarella as well. 

8. Place the casserole under the broiler in the middle of the oven until the cheese melts and bubbles on top. It will be all ready to go in three to five minutes.

Today I feel like that guy who stood still instead of stepping backwards with the rest of the line when someone asked the line for a volunteer. And what is it that I was volunteered for? All day with my head slammed up in a clamp. Translation -- I'm sick. 

 No, it's not the swine, everyone. So settle down. Granted, it would be awesomely ironic if The BG News food columnist contracted the swine flu. 

 Anyway, one of the worst things about being sick at school is that the blurry view from your futon normally only holds yesterday's half-eaten Five Dollar Holla, fruit gummies and a stack of Oreo cookies with the cream licked off of them. Not exactly the food momma makes that cures everything. In honor of my runny nose, I've compiled two of my favorite get-better-quicker remedies, all of which can be found on campus or bought with a meal plan.

Lemon, honey and love 
If 1990s Nickelodeon's "All That" were a get-well recipe, it would no doubt be this tasty combination of warm lemon and honey. Start out with a mug of water filled about 4/5 of the way to the top. Heat it in the microwave as hot as you can handle and then add a few squirts of lemon juice to taste. Finally, stir in a few teaspoons of honey to take a bit of the sour edge off. Don't be surprised if when you take a sip you immediately look around for your grandmother. It's just a mild side effect of this back-home goody. 

Grilled Cheese and Tomato Soup (plus an egg-cellent surprise) 
One of the best things about having sandwich shops on campus is that you can have them make you grilled cheese. Little known fact: grilled cheese at the University is just a vegetarian panini. And if you bat your eyes (or look pathetic enough sniffling into your tissue), I bet you could a few extra slices of gooeyness free of charge. Tomato soup can be found all over campus. The best stuff is in the Union and always at Outakes. When you get back to your room, cook an egg in the microwave and, once salted and peppered, add to the top of your grilled cheese. Enjoy while watching reruns of "The Golden Girls" to see the full healing effect. 

Jeni's Mom's Secret Recipe 
Whenever I'm sick, I always seem to crave weird foods. Odd combinations of Gatorades, sodas and bubbly waters are normally how I satisfy my wacked-out taste buds. Today, my friend Jeni told me about her mom's weirdest, yet most soul-soothing, recipe that fits right into this category. Heat a cup of milk in the microwave until it's just a little hotter than your preference. Melt a pat of butter (about a tablespoon) into the milk and serve with a dash of pepper.

There is only one thing related to s'mores that I really won't have any s'more of (and ironically, the use of "s'more" replacing "some more" isn't it). People, we need to stop referring to the "grahams" and the "mallows" when engaged in s'more speak. It isn't Smalls who's killing me when I think of this terrible verbal tick of a trend. 

But other than that, there's not much to dislike about that chocolately, ooey, gooey, burn-your-mouth, accidentally leafy campfire classic. They're cheap; they're easy; they're starting to sound like "that" girl at a party I was at last weekend. 

So let's go ahead and move on. It's easy to get caught up in the nostalgia that is the perfect s'more, so with camping season coming to a close and a bright new year just around the corner, I say we don't focus on the past, but on the exciting future of s'moredom that awaits us.

The Katy Perry 
Hot and cold gotogether like Sic-Sic and creepy, but in a good, I-like-to-be-scared kind of way. Replace boring chocolate with a swipe of your favorite Ben and Jerry's creation. Be prepared for the violent onset of memories of that really cool ice cream cake that Billy down the street had for his ninth birthday.
 
"Who turns down a Junior Mint?"
Thanks to Seinfeld, we know exactly what happens when you deny a Junior Mint. Add some of these mini chocolate mints to your warm marshmallow when you particularly don't want a surgery patient's well being on your conscience.
 
We're gonna party like it's ya birthday
Take a page out of Fiddy Cent's book and find any reason to celebrate Shorty's birthday. Smother one graham cracker with chocolate or vanilla frosting, and then top with sprinkles. The melted marshmallow warms the frosting/sprinkle combo to perfection.

Peepshow 
Swap a toasted marshmallow for a perfectly browned and (insert color in the past tense here) Peep. The extra shot of sugar and the subtle addition of color instantly ups the sex-factor of this s'more. 
 
S'moreos
Carefully unscrew your favorite version of Oreo, and smoosh the cooked marshmallow between its perfectly chocolate wafer layers. If you're really daring, dip in milk before devouring.

Your name doesn't have to be Reese
A quick fix for the action-craving taste buds is to replace your standard Hershey's Milk Chocolate with a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. Bob, the campus UPS man highly recommends this. And he's basically Santa, but more fit and in a snappier uniform.

Johnny "Cougar" Mellencamp topped the nation's music charts when he wrote the song that tried to explain the thin line between kissing someone's face off and pummeling them in the stomach. "Sometimes love don't feel like it should," kids, and if the Coug has taught us anything, we should learn to embrace it. These are my top ten favorite flavors that shouldn't belong together, but somehow continue to send me to foodie heaven.  

10. A slice of turkey on a blueberry muffin: It's breakfast. It's lunch. Let's not call it brunch because that's what all the grandparents call it. How about we go with Lunchfast? Or Lunch Break? Fine, "brunch" it is.  

9. Fritos dipped in caramel: A classic born at my lunch table in high school. And it's much more appetizing than the weird Milk + Italian Dippers (which were just yesterday's hotdog buns with melted cheese on them, for the record) combo that was created at the boys' table.  

8. Cold pizza sprinkled with garlic salt: I like this better than fresh-from-the-microwave pizza. Next time you go to nuke that piece of Papa John's, just say no. It's gross. And we're all judging you.  

7. French fries dipped in vanilla soft serve: Another one of those don't-mess-with-em classics. I feel like if Jenny and Forrest were food, this is the form they would take. Although, I don't know how much I like my vanilla soft serve all sexed up and tripping on acid. 

6. Pumpkin seeds covered in buttery brown sugar and salt: I made this Wednesday night after carving a pumpkin at the Union. The only thing better than the looks I got while walking home with a plate full of pumpkin guts was the sweet and salty double punch from these delicious seeds.  

5. Mint gum and beer: Yes, I'm one of those college students who doesn't like beer. Sorry. I know there are more of you out there like me in hiding, so I offer this tiny bit of advice. Next time you get harassed into a game of beer pong, pop a piece of Orbit. It curbs that delicious "tin can" flavor that lives in most people's kegs.  

4. M&M's in movie-buttered popcorn: This shouldn't-be combo makes me feel just the right amount of bad. You know, coming in 10 minutes after curfew, feeding a stranger's expired meter kind of bad.  

3. Bacon dipped in maple syrup: My butt and thighs scream no, but my tongue and tummy disagree. Winner, winner chicken dinner, tongue and tummy. Or, I guess it'd be "winner, winner pork dinner." But that doesn't have the same ring to it.  

2. A slice of cheese on warm apple pie: Whoopi Goldberg and company said it best in the movie Sister Act. "This is better than ice cream! It's better than springtime! It's better than sex! (Awkward Pause) No, I mean - I've heard."  

1. Eggs in Purgatory: Day old mashed potatoes. Marinara sauce. Fried eggs. Put them into the metaphorical blender, and where three separates existed, only one dreamy piece of culinary mastery emerges. Add an egg and a handful of pancake mix to the leftover taters. Pan fry into a potato pancake. Finally, top with a butter-fried egg and a dollop of warm spaghetti sauce.