honey likker

The somnolence of summer has arrived in its full, drenching glory here in Texas. The trees are heavy with leaves, the air has stopped breathing, and the days are long and woozy.

And even though your armpits soak and mosquitoes suck like starving babies, the back porch begs you to sit a spell. The only thing that makes the heat more like a blanket than a slap in the face is a tall glass of some sweet Southern drink, slick with condensation and floating with chunks of ice.

Here are my two favorites:

Sweet Tea Martini

1 part sweet tea vodka
1 part sweet tea
Slice of lemon

Mix in a shaker and pour into a chilled martini glass. Or, in a pinch, pour all ingredients over a glass of ice.


Bourbon & Coke

1 part bourbon (I love Maker's Mark)
2-3 parts Coca-Cola

This is no time for Diet. Get the real stuff. Pour over ice.

potato lust

The following are ten things I would do because of/with gratin dauphinoise, the greatest, creamiest, saltiest, perfectest dish EVER.

1. rub it on my feet in place of lotion. fragrant, buttery lotion.
2. eat it every single day for the rest of my life
3. make it into a candle for my bathroom
4. petition the FDA to sanction it as one of the necessary 5 daily fruits/vegetables
5. bury my face in it. scream because it's hot and i just burned my face. lick my lips. re-dunk my face in it.
6. buy a $40 mandoline just so i can make it more often (this I actually did)
7. find it strangely more attractive than leonardo dicaprio in 'the departed'
8. become sexier than a victoria's secret model to leonardo dicaprio by seducing him with a plate of it
9. imagine that heaven is comprised of diamond roads, wine rivers, and buildings made of potatoes
10. grow morbidly obese with it, like at least 417 pounds

Oh yeah, and here's the recipe.

Gratin Dauphinoise

8-10 red potatoes, peeled and thinly sliced
1 stick butter at room temperature
s&p
1 cup heavy cream
1 garlic clove

Cut the garlic in half, and rub the cut sides all over a large casserole dish. Discard the cloves. Peel and slice the potatoes, then rinse them with cold water and pat them dry with paper towels (removes all starch and makes the texture divine).

Arrange a single layer of potato slices in the dish. Heavily salt and pepper them. Dot them with butter. Repeat until all the potatoes are used. Dump the cream over the whole mess. Stick it in the oven for an hour at 325 degrees. Devour.

death to bisquick

With five words, my hopes were dashed. My heart began beating erratically, my palms broke out in a sweat, and I was suddenly, irrevocably gripped with a fear so great, I considered chaining myself to the couch to physically prevent the terror from becoming true. And yet, my courtesy-drippin' Southern blood prohibited me from backing out on an RSVP. All day, the five words hovered like some gut-grinding harbinger of nausea... the five words promised with pride by the hostess of a church dinner I'd agreed to attend:

"Tuna Ring with Cheese Sauce."

What was this fearsome beast? What onerous textures and tastes awaited any who partook of such a revoltingly named creation? A TUNA RING. My stomach, so open and accepting of the vast quantities of food I feed it, closes its mouth in fury. A TUNA RING. It sounds like a dolphin's vomit. A jello-molded fishy circlet. The punchline for an inappropriate joke. For heaven's sake, the primary ingredient is Bisquick.

I suppressed my disgust, put on a dress, and carried my dish of gratin dauphinoise (recipe to come... a decadent success!) to the church dinner so I could count on SOMETHING edible. And an hour later, I was mechanically putting a slice (yes, a slice) of tuna ring on my plate and spooning something that looked an awful lot like paste over it. Ironically, the paste was the most delicious part.

Tuna Ring is a mysterious concoction involving tuna salad stuffed into a circular shape, covered in a tasteless dough, and drenched in gluey cheese sauce (which also has Bisquick in it. My gosh.) It is served warm and sliced like a horrifying fishy Bundt cake. Here's the recipe...

(Psyche.)