Music Therapy and Lemon Pasta with Sausage and Broccoli

During the past spring and summer, while I was in my cancer treatment  -- what I fondly refer to as as my "confinement" -- I spent a lot of time in quiet activity, when I wasn't sleeping, that is.

I did a little bit of gardening, watched some TV (mindless stuff, like Law and Order reruns and sentimental Hallmark movies), read quite a few books (the whole Millenium series, all 1500+ pages), colored a bit and played too much a lot of Words with Friends.

But one of the things that gave me the most pleasure was music. Music kept me company, energized me, soothed me, made me smile -- all the good things.

I love all kinds of music (although I really haven't warmed up to hip-hop too much) but I tend to drift to listening to my favorite classic rock picks.  My sister and brother-in-law put together a couple of playlists for me that introduced me to new stuff.

This collection of theirs has everything -- the familiar, the classic, a little jazz, a little country, a quite eclectic collection. And they put all 150 songs on an Ipod Shuffle, complete with ear pods. I also got the music on two CDs, labeled "Rosie I" and "Rosie II."

As the songs played randomly, I'd be listening to the Beatles, then U2, then Bonnie Raitt, then Pink Floyd, back to the Beatles, then Fleetwood Mac, Coldplay, or Michael Jackson.  And I met new (to me) artists -- Good Old War, You+Me, Patty Griffin, Liz Longley, Jimmy Eat World, Allen Stone, and many more.

On a good day . . . my music had me dancing.--forgive the reflection of my phone in my sunglasses--

On my especially good days, that music had me dancing as I went for walk or tended to my flower beds.

My favorite new song on the collection was a song called "I Feel Good",  by Thomas Rhett. Like the Pharrell Williams "Happy" song, it's impossible not to feel good, or dance, while listening to the song.

I feel good, today

can't nobody bring me down

I just got paid, and I think I'm gonna hit the town

Yeah my problems can wait til tomorrow, 

cause I feel good today yeah,

can't nobody bring me down...

Give it a listen and you'll see what I mean.

Music therapy was a part of  my cancer center treatment, too. During chemo days, when I wasn't listening to my own music or reading or making new friends with the other patients, we were treated to music played by a volunteer, a certified music therapist, who played her harp while we happily ate lunch.  

Phyllis played a variety of music; I recognized some classical music, but I also heard "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" and a couple religious hymns, a nice variety. 

I got to chatting with Phyllis one day and learned that she got her certification through an online course. (I also had asked her what she called her little harp, thinking it must have a unique name. She told me, "It's a harp, although I call it my baby.")

Another therapy I relished was shopping therapy. One day, my sister Lynn was gracious enough to drive me to one of my many doctor appointments, and, of course, there was lunch and shopping to make the most of the  190+ mile round trip to Pittsburgh. A must stop (in addition to Home Goods) was Trader Joe's. 

I'm a little kid in Trader Joe's.  I want to thow everything into my cart.  I try and restrain myself but end up buying more than I should planned on.

My best purchase that day was a package of lemon pepper papardelle.

I love the wide pasta, but the flavoring of this was simply outstanding.  Sometimes, flavored pastas are more colored than they are flavored.  This pasta was definitely lemony, not overpowering, just obvious.  And the pepper was the perfect complement.

This was a "no recipe" night:

1. Put water on to boil for the pasta.  Cook (undercook!) according to package directions.
2. Cook a half head of fresh chopped broccoli with 2 tablespoons of water in the microwave for about 4 minutes. Drain.
3. Brown 1 pound of the loose, fresh sweet Italian sauage in a large non-stick pan on medium-high heat.
4. When no longer pink,turn down the heat to low.
5. Add the cooked pasta and cooked broccoli to the pan.
6. Add about 1/2 cup half-and-half and 1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese.
7. Toss gently and serve.
8. Wait for compliments.

Kale Pesto | Why Didn't I Think of That?

It was one of those heel-of-hand to forehead moments when I realized that I could make pesto from kale! Duh!  Didn't I make pesto from spinach years ago, when there wasn't enough of my own basil? Wasn't it pretty good? Hadn't I read about using cilantro in a pesto?

So I had a minor epiphany when I skimmed a magazine at the doctor's office and saw "kale pesto" featured. Genius, I thought. But then, as I looked for recipe variations, I found that it was not so genius, after all. Pretty common, in fact.

I must have been living under a rock.

Still, and even though kale has lost its luster as the #1 super food, I have been looking for more ways to make kale a part of my meal planning.  And I'm lucky that Mr. Rosemary likes it.

My favorite way to use kale is to saute it in garlic and oil and then add cooked brown rice to it, dressing it up with pieces of roasted red pepper and a bit of feta. I've made kale chips and even convinced a few finicky teenagers to eat them. And I love massaged kale salads. Just plain, though, kale's a bit much.

But kale pesto? That made it a whole lot more versatile. Now that I've woken up, I've added kale pesto to mayonnaise to spread on sandwiches and added it to spaghetti sauce and soups. Just like traditional pesto. (Duh!)

Isn't it funny that pesto has gone mainstream and become almost ordinary, like marinara or mayonnaise. One of these days, McDonald's will be using pesto!

Pesto -- in its original form of basil, Parmesan, garlic and pine nuts -- didn't enjoy widespread popularity until the 80's. It used to be considered "gourmet" before then.

But when food processors invaded every day kitchens, pesto was catapulted to universal popularity, a popularity that doesn't look like its going to end anytime soon. (Just like kale.) It certainly makes sense that kale could easily substitute for basil.  So could mint. So could cilantro, although I have a few friends who wouldn't go for that, no matter how much cheese and garlic was in it.

The first time I veered off the traditional pesto path, I used spinach and walnuts. And, to be honest, the difference between the basil and pine nuts version and this one was minimal. 

So why did it take me a few years to use kale? Slow learner? Late bloomer? 

Whatever the reason, I'm now sold on kale pesto. It was wonderful in this pasta dish with mushrooms, using pipette rigate, a pasta shape that's not just fun to eat, but allowed the pesto to sneak into all those ridges.

Kale & Walnut Pesto with Mushrooms and Pipette Rigate
adapted from Real Simple

1 bunch kale, thick stems discarded and leaves torn (about 12 cups)
1/2 cup chopped walnuts
1 cup grated Parmesan cheese
2 cloves garlic
1/2 cup olive oil
1 pound pipette rigate, or any other small shaped pasta
2 tablespoons butter
1 pound button mushrooms, quartered

Bring a large pot of  water to a boil. Add the kale and cook until it's bright green; doesn't take long, half a minute. Using tongs, move the kale to a colander, reserving the cooking water. Squeeze dry when cool enough to handle.

In a food processor, combine the kale, Parmesan, garlic, and the walnuts. Process until finely chopped. With the machine running, add the oil through the feed tube in a steady stream.
Bring the reserved cooking water to a boil and cook the pasta according to the package directions.

Meanwhile, melt the butter in a saute pan over medium heat. Add the mushrooms, and saute until lightly brown. Remove from the heat.

Drain the pasta when done, reserving 1/2 cup of the cooking water. Return the pasta to the pot. Add the pesto and ¼ cup of the reserved cooking water and toss to coat. Add the mushrooms, adding more cooking water if the pasta seems dry. Serve the pasta and feel noble that you're eating kale.

A Secret -- and Cannelloni

I've been keeping a secret for a few months . . . . not a really big secret  (Like my book is coming out next month! --  I wish!)

It's just a little secret . . . . I've been teaching a neighbor boy how to cook.  He just turned 8, but he was 7 when we started last summer. Every two weeks, he comes to my house after school and we cook together for a couple hours in my little kitchen.  And we have a ball.

At first, we were both a little tentative, but before long we were acting every bit the grandmother and grandkid we looked like together. We joke some, I nod approvingly when he measures correctly, he teases. We cook good stuff and we have good fun.

Wyatt  loves to bake. And although baking's not my strongest suit in the kitchen, I can definitely handle the basics. (We won't be making puff pastry anytime soon.) The biggest plus about baking with a child, for me anyhow,  is that, for the most part, knives aren't involved  Soon enough for that. For now, if we need to chop something -- like onions for meatballs -- we use my mini-chopper.

We have made a variety of great food -- cupcakes, cookies, meatballs, breaded chicken, pizza, Oreo truffles. Our goal is usually to make something he can take home for dinner that he made as well as a dessert or a treat he can share with friends at school the next day. And something that's manageable in under two hours.

The breaded chicken was different to me.  I learned his mother was gluten-free and we tried something she steered me to: using crushed rice Chex cereal as the coating. It was great!

We've had a couple minor accidents: He dropped an egg on the floor;  I dropped a tray of just baked cookies. Once, while cleaning up, he pretty much sprayed my window above the sink as much as the dishes.

I wasn't looking for a cooking student. It was his mother's idea. She knew I had been a teacher, that I wrote a food column for the local paper, and that I had this blog. And I was nearby.

And her son likes to cook.  She reasoned that her older son was taking music lessons and golf lessons. Why not find a teacher for what her middle son liked to do? Makes perfect sense. Although she herself likes to cook, she has a job, two other kids and this little arrangement provides her son something that's just for him. I'm impressed by her original thinking.

One of the main dishes we made was stuffed shells.  We stuffed the shells with a sausage and cheese fiilling using a recipe from Sticky, Gooey, Creamy.

There was plenty of filling for two dozen stuffed shells. And we didn't scrimp on stuffing them either. So I was left with filling and no shells. So the next day, I made crepes and we had cannelloni instead.  Same filling, different container.

Sausage and Cheese Cannelloni
adapted from Sticky, Gooey, Creamy

1 dozen crepes* (click here for my recipe)

1 pound sweet or hot Italian sausage, casings removed

2 tablespoons olive oil

16-ounces whole milk ricotta

2 cups shredded mozzarella, divided

1 cup grated Parmesan cheese, divided

2 large eggs, lightly beaten

2 tablespoons minced, fresh, flat-leaf parsley

Salt and ground black pepper to taste

4 cups prepared marinara sauce, homemade or jarred

Preheat oven to 375 F.  

Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium-high heat.  Crumble the sausage into the skillet and fry until lightly browned.  Using a wooden spoon, break the meat into small bits as it cooks.  

Combine cooked sausage, ricotta, 1 cup mozzarella, 1/2 cup Parmesan, eggs, parsley, salt and pepper together in a large bowl and mix well.

Pour enough marinara sauce in a 9×13 baking dish to cover the bottom of the dish, about 1 1/2 cups.  Place about 2 tablespoons of filling down the middle of each crepe. Fold the side over and place, seam side down, on top of the sauce.  Ladle the rest of the marinara on top.  Sprinkle with the rest of the mozzarella and Parmesan, cover with foil and bake until bubbly, about 30-35 minutes.  Remove the foil and continue to bake for another 10-15 minutes, until the cheese is gooey and melted and begins to brown.  Remove and let stand about 10 minutes before serving.

* Crepes are time consuming and are a definite "do-ahead" in my book. You can make them the day before, keep them separated by squares of waxed paper, and place in the fridge. Or you can stack them and store them (again, separated by waxed paper) in the freezer for up to 3 months. Just thaw some before using.

“Go To” Sausage Pasta Toss for a Down in the Dumps Day

Everyone has a dependable dish you can always go to when things seem like they’re just not going your way, when everything seems to be piling up against you, when there’s no time to play in the kitchen and all you want is something tasty and comforting and that you can eat with a fork, not your hand.  (I'm not against sandwiches at all, but when I'm feeling frumpy, I want fork food.) 

This is mine. 

A simple sausage and pasta dish, made fresher with a bag of baby spinach and a little fresh basil, fun shaped pasta, a couple scrapes of fresh nutmeg and a great handful of freshly grated cheese.  Twenty minutes go by and the world looks better.

It’s been a helluva week.  We just got back from a week long fishing trip.  Great fun, great food, horrible bugs.  And as lovely as it is to get away, it’s even better to come home.   But in addition to the usual unpacking and laundry stuff, fate had thrown a few extras our way.    My petunias were dying.  Some critter trampled trough the freshly planted vegetable garden (and apparently hastily eschewed the onions,) the barn bridge is starting to collapse, begging for repair, the nine acres of yard needs to be mowed (and the lawn tractor has become testy) and it’s time to make hay.

So making this go-to meal, as simple as it is, as warm as it is outside, was still just what I needed to assure me that all's right with the world. Oh, did I mention that my computer is on the fritz?  That’s what really has me bummed because how am I going to blog about all the ways we cooked our walleye?  How am I going to share with you the absolutely delightful dinner my sister hosted this past weekend?  How am I going to share all the new things I’m going to do with my blog, my reading list, my description of my family, my favorite cookbooks?  It will all just have to wait a bit.

In the meantime,  I cooked up this favorite dish and relaxed a bit.  A glass of wine helps a lot, too.  Tomorrow's another day and I'll be ready to tackle the world -- and plant my begonias.

Sausage Pasta Toss
makes about 4 to 6 servings
1/2 pound small-sized pasta (like shells, mini-penne rigate, bow ties)
1 pound sweet Italian sausage
1 can (15 ounces) diced tomatoes with juice
1 teaspoon dried Italian seasoning
1/2 bag fresh baby spinach
1/4 cup fresh basil leaves
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg, or couple scrapes of a fresh nutmeg
1/4 to 1/2 cup fresh Parmesan, depending on how bad your day/week was

Get the pasta going and while it's cooking, crumble and brown the sausage in a big skillet. When it's browned, add the undrained can of tomatoes.  Add the Italian seasoning -- or a mixture of dried basil, oregano and thyme.  Drain the pasta and add it to the pan.  Add the spinach and stir until just wilted.  Add the nutmeg.  Add the cheese. Mange.

Chicken Tetrazzini -- Scaled Down

If the title of this post has led you to believe that this is a low calorie version of said tetrazzini, I apologize. It’s scaled down in size only, so that Mr. Rosemary and I wouldn’t completely gorge ourselves on one of our all-time favorite meals. As it was, I still had to freeze a couple portions, which will probably end up as the base for a frittata one night next week, as we’re scrambling to get ready for the annual walleye fishing trip to Ontario. (Or maybe that’s something I’ll look forward to after seven nights of cooking fish!)

The first time I made tetrazzini was years ago after one Thanksgiving, to use leftover turkey. Since then, I’ve looked forward to post-Thanksgiving meals more than the real deal, just for this casserole.  And although it is a great way to use leftover turkey, I find I like it better with chicken.  I have that around much more often.  This time, though, I used rotisserie chicken from the supermarket.  I like to mix both white and dark meat, too. I probably make this just a couple times a year, it’s that rich. But for some reason, it beckoned the other evening. Perfect to go with the roasted asparagus.

(I know it doesn’t look like asparagus in the picture. Your eyes are not deceiving you. That is indeed broccoli. The asparagus was completely consumed, the whole pound, by two people. That’s what roasting does to asparagus. Forces one to substitute another vegetable for blog picture taking the day after.)

Giada makes a great chicken tetrazzini dish, but this one is different from hers – she uses peas, no Swiss cheese, adds onions, cooks the mushrooms -- and for the life of me, I can’t recall exactly where I first got this recipe. I copied it onto an index card, gave no credit to its originator and keep it in a little box, where I keep all the old stand-bys. It’s actually one of like sixteen places where I store recipes. Organization and I have a love-hate relationship.

And I’ve tweaked the original recipe many times over, as my little notes and scratch outs and other hieroglyphics on the well-used card will attest, so maybe it’s morphed into my own after all. Actually, I don’t need the card anymore. I can make this blindfolded.

Did you know that tetrazzini is someone’s name? I didn’t. It’s the last name of Luisa Tetrazzini, a famous early twentieth century Italian opera singer. Apparently, the dish was created by a chef to honor her, a common practice back then. Like Eggs Benedict.  Tetrazzini has come to mean any cream sauce, cheesed-up or not, over chicken and pasta.
But enough rambling. Here’s the recipe. Tweaked and re-tweaked. Buon appetito.

Chicken Tetrazzini

½ pound angel hair pasta
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons flour
½ cup chicken broth
½ cup half-and-half
1 cup shredded Swiss cheese
1 tablespoon Marsala
¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg, or 3-4 scrapes of a fresh nutmeg
2 cups cooked chicken, or turkey, broken into bite size chunks
1 cup sliced mushrooms
¼ cup grated Parmesan cheese
¼ cup seasoned, bread crumbs
1 tablespoon melted butter

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Start boiling water for the pasta. Cook pasta al dente – won’t take long – and drain. (It will keep okay in the colander until you mix it with everything else.) Melt the butter in a large saucepan over low heat. Blend in the flour. Add the broth and the half-and-half, increase the heat and cook stirring constantly until thickened. Lower heat.  Add the cheese and stir until melted. Add the nutmeg and the sherry and blend. Remove from heat. Add the cooked pasta, chicken and mushrooms. Fold together until well mixed and then turn into a casserole that’s been buttered or sprayed with vegetable spray. Mix together the Parmesan and bread crumbs with the melted butter and sprinkle over the casserole top. Bake uncovered for 25 to 30 minutes. Makes about six generous servings.

A little post script:  The gorgeous red plate was part of my Mother's Day goodies from Amy. There's more to come!  Thanks, honey!

Lemon Pasta with Shrimp – No Lenten Dissent

Growing up Catholic, we were subjected to a rather meager menu of Friday Lenten meals. There was tuna fish salad, my mom’s tomato-ed version of mac 'n cheese, grilled cheese sandwiches, and fish fry at the local Knights of Columbus Hall. Very little variety. I never really knew that real fish was ever cooked at home. That wasn’t my mother’s fault: That was just growing up in a small town in the sixties, where there just wasn’t much variety available. (Of course, sacrifice is supposed to be the name of the game, isn’t it.)

Occasionally we did have blocks of frozen some-kind-of-fish but that did little to stir any craving in me. But when I got to out (aside from the K of C) I immediately gravitated towards shrimp, Lent or not, and that’s one childhood love I’ve held onto to tightly. Shrimp in any form.

I made this lemon sauced pasta last week and it was so darn lip-smacking good, I think I’ll make it again this Friday. (So much for variety, huh?) I was inspired by Indigo’s Sugar Spectrum, who was inspired by Smitten Kitchen. I adapted the recipe, though. I used half and half instead of cream, fresh spinach instead of basil or arugula or chives and I added shrimp. The pasta was delectable on its own, but the addition of shrimp was a perfect complement. The lemony sauce is nicely tart but sweetened by the half-and-half.

I just steamed the shrimp but next time (that will be this Friday) I’m going to roast the shrimp first. Can’t believe that as much as I love roasted vegetables I didn’t think of this myself.

Before taking a look at the recipe, a very simple one, read this delightful little poem. I found this a couple weeks ago on my daily newsletter The Writers Almanac and the author was kind enough to give me permission to use it here. Get a chuckle.

Lenten Dissent

by Cherie Lashway

There once was a logger, named Paddy O'Connell,
Who at lunch during Lent, found himself at McDonalds,
And had just settled down to his Big Mac and fries,
When along came his priest, much to both their surprise.

The priest said to Paddy, "Just what are you eating?
In this season of Lent, I sure hope you're not cheating."
Paddy said to the Father, "I'll tell you no lies.
I'm enjoying a Big Mac, along with some fries."

The priest said to Paddy, "I see no repentance.
Because of this sin, you will have to do penance.

"By Friday or sooner, I say that you should,
For our fireplace, deliver a cord of chopped wood."

Now our timberman, Paddy, an overworked man,
Did think to himself, "I don't think that I can."

But early on Friday, our priest, he heard shoveling,
And looked out the window at Paddy not groveling.
And saw with confusion, dismay and disgust,
That the wood bin was now almost filled with saw dust.

He called down below, barely hiding his ire:
"Hey Paddy, your penance was wood for the fire!"

To which Paddy said, rising up from his work,
While wiping his brow and concealing a smirk:

"I've brought you a cord, like you said that I should,
But if burger be meat, well then sawdust be wood!"

"Lenten Dissent" by Cherie Lashway, used with permission of the author

Now for the recipe . . .

Lemon and Spinach Pasta with Shrimp
Adapted from Indigo’s Sugar Spectrum and Smitten Kitchen

1 pound spaghetti or linguine
3 lemons
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/4 cup half and half
½ cup of Parmesan, plus more for serving
4 cups baby spinach
1 pound steamed shrimp

Zest and juice the lemons – you’ll need a good tablespoon of zest and 1/2 cup of juice. Cook and drain pasta, reserving 1-1/2 cups of pasta cooking water. Dry out your pot, then boil the olive oil, half and half, zest and 1 cup of the reserved pasta water together for two minutes over high heat. Return pasta to pot and stir until coated. Add the cheese and 1/4 cup lemon juice and toss everything together. Add more pasta water, 1/4 cup at a time, until the noodles are nice and loose. Add remaining lemon juice, then toss in spinach leaves until wilted.  Add the shrimp and toss again.

Have more cheese on hand to sprinkle on the served plates.