Create a Signature Dish

I would like to take a second before I begin to apologize for the long absence. I signed up for that pesky thing called Grad School, and life has been a bit crazy. Still, no excuse. I hope you can forgive.

This one is for Jessie and Jinni.

I was kind of a weird kid. I am sure that doesn't shock most of you considering, if you haven't already noticed, I'm kind of a weird adult. My tastes, habits, actions, and goals in life have been, and probably always will be, a bit off-kilter. Listen to me ramble about my fear of mascots for a few seconds and you'll get a good idea of what I mean.

One of the best ways I can illustrate this for you, however, is through this week's thing-to-do-before-I'm-12. Create a signature dish? This one I actually had taken care of when the book assumed I would. My brother and I were quite the creative duo when it came to inventing new snacks. We'd take anything that looked, sounded, or smelled even the slightest bit delicious out of the pantry and combine it with any other good looking, sounding, or smelling dish that struck our fancy. The outcome was usually a dietary disaster that even the dog wouldn't touch. Mom, as expected, usually turned her nose up to our masterpieces, but David and I created, gobbled, and regobbled our culinary creations with a fiery and dedicated passion. My brother's favorite (which he still eats to this day) was a delicate combination of uncooked Ramen Noodles with seasoning and copious amounts of hot sauce. That's right, folks, Ramen Noodles and hot sauce. I never tried it, but he still insists that it is nothing less than euphoric.

My favorite, much to Mom's horror, was a little creation I called "Boogers on the Beach."

A little background: I was in 3rd grade and a new student to New Haven Elementary (Go Stars!). Each morning, we were all corralled into the large gymnasium for the morning assembly. We'd start out by singing happy, up-beat songs that encouraged sharing, positive attitudes, friendship, and all the other things you'd want a large group of annoyingly hyper kids to embody in their daily activities. This fateful morning, however, we skipped the song singing, and the teachers had a little "get to know you" segment where they shared something weird or funny about themselves. True to my ADD fashion, I didn't pay much attention (I wanted to sing, damn it!). One teacher's confessional, however, managed to get my attention. I was in the middle of humming my favorite part of "The Friendship Song," doodling on my shoes, when I registered that the words "pickles" and "peanut butter" had been spoken in sequence. Pickles and peanut butter? Um, gross. I started to listen a little more carefully:

"Now, I know what you're thinking," the teacher, who's name I have now forgotten, said brightly, "'pickles and peanut butter? On a sandwich? Gross,' right?" There was a ripple of faux barfing and gagging sounds throughout the audience. She had read my, and apparently everyone else's, mind perfectly. And yet, I was still intrigued. Boggled by the concept, I listened as she went on to explain her journey with and subsequent love for this seemingly horrible idea for a snack. Thoroughly disgusted, I couldn't get the combination out of my mind all day. Pickles and peanut butter? Pickles and peanut butter. Pickles and freaking peanut butter?!? Refusing to go the rest of my life without experiencing this concoction, I bee-lined it for the pantry the second I hopped off the bus that afternoon and recreated the pickle-and-peanut-butter sandwich.

I tentatively took my first bite, having no clue what I was in for. It took a few chews before the taste caught up with me. And you know what? I'll be damned if I didn't love the thing. It was the perfect combination of sweet and savory, crunchy and smooth, weird and awesome. I was hooked. Not only did it taste amazing, we had a connection, that sandwich and I. It was weird, I was weird, I loved it, it loved me, and we were going to be best friends. Forever.

After I attempted, and failed, to get my entire household to try it, I gobbled up the rest of the sandwich and began to preach the word of pickles-and-peanut-butter to any and every person who would listen. It was a hard sell, and to make the already hopeless situation worse, I named the sandwich "Boogers on the Beach," after my astute observations on the color of my powerful ingredients. I'm pretty sure I couldn't even get my noodles-and-hot-sauce-loving brother to try it. "Oh well," I thought, "more for me."

It's been a hot minute since I've tried to recreate this fondly remembered dish. I'm pretty sure I gave it up around the 4th grade when granola bars and Surge were the hip snacks of the day. And, I am happy to report, the preferences of my pallet have improved significantly since then. As a mostly independent adult, I have learned the beauty of cooking my own food. And not in the "throw random shit together and try it" kind of way. I am actually starting to take the time to assess my nutritional needs, seek out a yummy sounding recipe, and make myself a good meal. Sure, I still love a good trip to Subway or Chipotle like any self-respecting 24-year-old, but I get a deep-seeded sense of satisfaction anytime I throw together a batch of ingredients in an attempt to make myself dinner. It's like potions class at Hogwarts, except much more practical and a smidgen more real. And when I fail, I won't explode (except for that time with the chicken and the cooking oil. I almost died. Not eeeeven joking).

Last Christmas, my mother wrote out by hand all of my grandma's recipes and I have been trying to recreate them in the time since. Along with that, my friend Jessie and my roommate Jinni have joined me on the cooking bandwagon, and we frequently bring recipes to each other to share. Minus the resulting mound of dishes, cooking has become one of my favorite activities. It is something I wish I had done more of with my Grandmother when I had the chance (her food was fracking ah-mazing) and that I hope to do often with my future children someday. Until then, however, I share my new favorite recipe with you all (got this one from Jessie):

Cream Cheese Stuffed Chicken

-1/2 small onion

-A strip of bacon

-1 Chicken Breast

-1 oz of Cream Cheese
-A chuck of pastry dough that will cover the chicken

-1 Egg

-Salt and pepper

*Pre-heat your oven to 375 degrees

*Cook one strip of bacon to your liking (I like it crispy)

*Chop up the onion into tiny pieces

*Mix chunks of bacon, the onion pieces, the cream cheese, and salt in pepper in a small bowl.

*Cut down the length of the breast, creating a place to stuff the cream cheese (imagine the chicken breast is your hands in prayer, cutting along between the pinkies). Do NOT cut all the way to the bottom, separating the breast in half. This will be disastrous.

*Stuff the cream cheese into the chicken.

*Wrap the chicken in the pastry dough, pinching the edges together to create a seal.

*Whisk the egg around in a bowl until it is liquefied. Coat the pastry dough lightly with the egg, re-pinching the edges to ensure the chicken is sealed.

*Place the chicken on a baking sheet and place in the oven.

*Cook for 30min or until the pastry dough is a golden brown.

*Serve with your favorite vegetable (I prefer lemon pepper green beans).

Hope you all enjoy! If you have a signature dish you'd like to share, leave it in comments!

-Atticus