Lentil Apricot Casserole

A warning:  your kids are going to stare at this and say, "It looks like goat barf."

And another warning:  you're going to agree with them.

So okay:  this recipe doesn't win any awards for presentation.  It looks like hurl.  I can give no stronger recommendation for this dish, though, than the fact that Jamie--Jamie, by far my fussiest eater these days--took seconds of this dish on his own accord.  And then took thirds.

I'm not sure what makes it work.  Obviously, dried apricots are awesome.  And the bulgar wheat gives a nice texture to the dish.  I've never been a friend of lentils--they taste like dirt, if you ask me--but I like them in this dish.  This recipe is actually Ellen's discovery, coming from Michele Urvater's Monday to Friday Cookbook.  This is generally a great book, though a lot of the recipes require a pressure cooker.

Be sure to serve with low-fat yogurt or sour cream.

Lentil Apricot Casserole

1 tablespoon olive oil
1.5 teaspoons curry powder
1 cup bulgar wheat (also known as millet)
1 cup dried lentils
4 cups chicken broth (water will work if you're a vegetarian)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 cup dried apricots, cut in half
Plain low-fat yogurt or sour cream

1. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.  
2. Heat the oil in a 4-quart ovenproof pan over medium heat. 
3. Add the curry powder and the bulgar wheat/millet.  Saute about 1 minute.  
4. Add the lentils and the broth.  Bring to a low boil and season to taste with salt and pepper. 
5. Cover and bake until the grain and lentils are tender, about 25 minutes.  
6. Remove from oven (dur!), stir in the apricots, add a 1/2 cup more broth if the dish is starting to seem dry.   
7. Re-cover and bake for 10 more minutes.  
8. Adjust seasoning and serve with yogurt/sour cream.  

Family Ratings

Will, who's kind of proud of no longer being the fussiest eater in the family:  9.5

Lucy, who would probably eat this even if it included dirt instead of lentils:  10

Jamie, who's kind of proud of now being the fussiest eater in the family: 10

Ellen, who's been trying to get us to eat less meat for year:  10

Paul, who can actually tolerate the lentils when they're with dried fruit:  9

Mediterranean Pasta with Feta and Other Stuff That Kids Are Supposed to Hate

This recipe doesn't look like much on paper: some noodles, some red peppers, some Italian sausage (made from chicken, no less). But put it all together and it tastes great. The key, I think, is that the feta melts when mixed with the cooking liquid from the pasta.

This is also a good dish for kids who pick bits and pieces from their plates: those who like sausage can eat the sausage, those who like noodles can eat the noodles, and so on. I know this is supposed to a bad approach to raising kids--"Eat everything on your plate, damn it!"--but I actually find that it works: they may think they're getting just what they like, but because everything blends, they're getting more flavors than they know. Will used to really resist this dish, but now he eats pretty much everything but the red peppers (which, I'll admit, I sometimes pick out myself . . . ).

Two things to keep in mind: first, start the pasta right away, even before you chop the vegetables, as the dish itself goes pretty quickly. Second, be sure to reserve a half-cup of liquid as you drain the pasta. I usually stick my measuring cup in the colander ahead of time just so I don't forget. That said, if you do slip up, just use any old half-cup of semi-dirty water. (Just kidding--but yes, regular water will work.)

This recipe originally came from an old issue of Cooking Light--or as my friend Jacqui calls it: Cooking "Light." It's become one of our family favorites, the sort of dish that's so easy and tasty, you have to force yourself to not cook it every week.

Mediterranean Pasta with Feta and Sausage

12 ounces uncooked pasta (rigatoni, ziti, bow ties, that kind of thing)

1 TB olive oil

1 red bell pepper, cut into slices which are then cut in half

1/2 ts salt, divided

8 ounces chicken or turkey Italian sausage, skin removed

1 ts dried oregano

1 garlic clove, crushed and minced

3/4 cup crumbled feta

8 kalamata olives, sliced

Ground pepper to taste

1. Cook the pasta. Reserve 1/2 cup of cooking liquid when you drain.
2. Heat the oil in a good sized pan (eventually, everything, including the pasta, will end up in this pot--so make sure it's big enough; I sometimes use a dutch oven.)
3. Saute the bell pepper and 1/4 teaspoon of salt for two minutes.
4. Slice the skin off the sausages; add them, the oregano, and the garlic to the pan. Cook for 3-4 minutes, crumbling the sausage.
5. Add the pasta, the reserved liquid, 1/4 ts of salt, the cheese, the olives, and a dash or two of black pepper and cook for another two minutes, stirring frequently.
6. Just as the feta begins to melt, remove from heat and serve.

Family ratings, on a scale of 1-10:

Ellen: 10

Will, who hates food when it's all mixed together: 7

Lucy, who looooooooves sausage: 10

Jamie, who usually insists on being fed by an adult: 10 (he actually feeds this to himself, and always asks for seconds).

Paul, who thinks that feta is an essential ingredient in every household: 10

Chicken Fajitas

Years ago when I first started cooking, my mother cleaned out her cupboards and gave me all of the cookbooks she never used. One of them was a church book from western Pennsylvania, one of those collections where everyone throws in their favorite recipes. Hidden amongst the tater-tot salads and the slow cooker pot roasts was a recipe for chicken fajitas. I love that: 1963, steel country PA, and someone's cooking chicken friggin' fajitas. And guess what? They're awesome.

A few tips:

• I use kitchen scissors to cut up the chicken. Buy yourself a good pair: Chicago Cutlery, or Wusthof, one of those brands. My friend Eileen gave me a set of these 20 years ago when I got married, and they're still going strong. So's the marriage, which may be unrelated. But then again, maybe not . . .
• Grate your own cheese. That pre-grated stuff from the grocery store will ruin any dish, especially if the cheese is uncooked, as it is here.
• I use six- or eight-inch tortillas, and I warm them up in the microwave wrapped in paper towel, just to keep life easy.
• Cook the onions separately. That way you can use tons of hot peppers and not have to worry about taking the kids to the emergency room.
• Let the kids make their own fajitas. A little control goes a long way.

CHICKEN FAJITAS

Marinade:

1/4 cup lime juice (the store bought stuff will do just fine)

2 Tb soy sauce

2 Tb Worcheshire sauce

1.5 teaspoons ground cumin

2 TB olive oil

1-1.5 lbs. boneless skinless chicken breast

10 Tortillas

1.5 cups grated cheddar cheese

2 small tomatoes, diced

2 cups chopped lettuce

1 onion, sliced

Sour Cream

1. Mix together the marinade.
2. Cut the chicken up into bite-sized pieces and toss them in the marinade. Let sit.
3. Chop the tomatoes and the lettuce, grate the cheese and slice (don't chop!) the onions. Wrap the tortillas in paper towel, but don't put them in the microwave, yet. By the time you're done with all of this, the chicken should have marinated long enough.
4. In a small saute pan, heat a tablespoon of olive oil, and toss in the onions, plus 1-2 tablespoons of dried red pepper flakes. Saute as you're cooking the chicken (below).
5. Heat up a wok or a large frying pan. (Because there's oil in the marinade, I don't use any here, but you might have to if the chicken seems to stick.)
6. Using a slotted spoon, put the chicken in the pan and cook on high or medium-high.
7. Pour most of the run-off juices from the chicken pan into the onion pan so that they can soak up the flavor. If there isn't any juice, use some of the left-over marinade.
8. Add more hot pepper flakes to the onions.
9. Put your tortillas in the microwave; cook for 1-1.5 minutes.
10. Stir-fry the chicken for five or so minutes, until it's done, but not over-done. (Don't be afraid to pour more juices into the onions. You're not making a stew here, and the onions will only get tastier and tastier. )
11. Add more hot pepper flakes to the onions. Give them another good stir, then turn off the heat.
12. Set everything (including the sour cream) up on the table in separate dishes and let everyone make their own, using their own proportions and omitting whatever they choose.

Family Ratings, on a scale of 1-10:

Will, who generally hates everything: 10

Lucy, who's loathe to like her brother's favorite food: 7

Jamie, who really digs sour cream: 10

Paul, who usually adds still more red pepper flakes to the onions: 10