Tag: cooking

SpaghettiWestern Nachos

These nachos are actually kind of really good as long as you do not look them in the eye. These are to be eaten in a dark room with people who can stand the smell or who are also partaking in the massacre of nachos. There is absolutely no claim to cultural knowledge in this recipe WHAT SO EVER. I am lucky I can make pasta without obliterating it, but this was birthed from my inability to follow the instructions on a Texas Toast box. Prepare yourself for the farts that will ensue, it’s best to eat this at the witching hour or later and sleep off the repercussions. These nachos are a college student’s wet dream, and a cowboy has probably never thought of this.

This recipe is an original creation, no corners cut, inspired by one episode of iCarly from when I was 12 (the spaghetti tacos episode) and the desperate scramble to save brick hard Texas Toast. I am jealous and also sympathetic for those who decide to make this, but like shaving your head, everyone should make a monstrous bastardization of food at some point in their lives and enjoy it without regret.

 

Ingredients:

  1. Spaghetti (a whole box)
  2. Salt (for the noodle water)
  3. Pasta sauce, I used off brand cheapest on the shelf pasta sauce (not the meat kind, that stuff is disgusting)
  4. Santitas white corn tortilla chips
  5. Tostitos Salsa Con Queso (you will use the whole jar, accept it)
  6. Small can of jalapeño slices
  7. Texas Toast (I prefer the garlic and 4 cheese kind, but different strokes)
  8. Black beans (canned)
  9. Hot sauce (but god not sriracha you tasteless dirt eaters)
  10. Lettuce
  11. Tomatos (diced)
  12. Onions (sautéed)
  13. Bbq jackfruit (I recommend not this one. It was almost insufferable but enough cheese and distraction helped. If vegan/vegetarian, the morning star steak strips would be much better. If you eat meat, throw whatever you want in there it can handle it.)

 

Directions:

  1. Put the Texas toast in the oven on a sheet for whatever time and heat the box says.
  2. Leave the toast in for like 3 extra minutes or something because it is sensitive and will give the slight char that leads to the necessary use of all other ingredients.
  3. Bring salted water to an aggressive boil.
  4. Add pasta to boiling water, I recommend breaking the noodles. This means they will not be as satisfying to twirl on a fork but they wont light on fire over the edge of the pot.
  5. In 5-8 minutes the spaghetti should be easy to cut with a fork, drain.
  6. Dump spaghetti onto large plate on top of the toast.
  7. Pour on spaghetti sauce and queso.
  8. Add diced tomatoes, sautéed onions, beans, lettuce, and drained jalapeño slices.
  9.  Heat the jackfruit in a greased pan or in the microwave and add on top (not much cooking required), or just throw this part away it kind of sucks.
  10. Stab the tortilla chips into the mixture that will now look like the bottom of a dumpster.
  11. Add as much hot sauce as desired.
  12. Pray for your soul and maybe your butthole then eat.

Brickcakes

These are hangover pancakes. Not because they are super greasy and sweet, a large amount of carbs to satisfy the raging hangover demands, but because when the room is spinning and the slow creep of nausea threatens projectile vomiting these pancakes act as a brick in your stomach that absolutely will not allow hangover puking. This pancake rock is the intestinal glue, your bowels will not move for days. When I was vegan I tried to follow fads, including the buckwheat protein pancakes that frequented annoying fitblr vegan accounts. I am sure these over packed aesthetically rustic with a blueish filter pancakes are fine when made by someone who is proficient at pancake making… but more than likely they smiled through the pain and constipation and thicc floor-tile-bread-pancakes. If someone tells you that it is a Good Idea to make pancakes with buckwheat and bananas from scratch, ask how their blog is from over your shoulder as you run far away.

The only way to make this recipe more tragic is by adding peanut butter as the mortar to the bricks. Please, just make some Bisquick box pancakes. Forget the social media subcultures crying out for their iron to be pumped, their Get Big Stay Big, and their brickcakes to be Totally Protein Packed to Rebuild That Temple of a body after totally waking up at 5am to run a 5k. No buddy.

Ingredients:

1/2 Cup of Buckwheat Flour (run away now)

2 very ripe bananas (one of the only decent things I learned from fad health trends)

Almond or soy milk (Don’t ask me how much, just nervously splash it in until you think you’re a little screwed.)

2 TBSP coconut oil

Some (? I don’t know, feel it out) ground flax seed meal

Chia seeds, as much as you can stand

1 TSP ground cinnamon

Some vanilla extract

Brown sugar? Nutmeg? Blueberries? Whatever, pancakes are pretty versatile but you have the freedom of knowing these will already suck.

 

Directions:

*** If anyone tells you to BAKE pancakes look at their quality of character and determine if you REALLY want this type of negative influence in your life.***

  1. Mash the 2 bananas well, no chunks should be in the baby food.
  2. Mix all of those things together.
  3. Let sit for 5 minutes, you can pretend this will make them fluffy.
  4. Heat a pan with oil in it (but not TOO hot, I don’t know your stove, but half way turned knob?).
  5. Scoop (or pour, if you want frisbees) in the batter.
  6. Let one side cook until there are holes in the surface of the top of the pancake and its not as gushy.
  7. Flip.
  8. Wait a while, but make sure it doesn’t smoke or anything. I don’t know y’all are competent adults just nervous check the underside frequently.
  9. Continue until all batter is used.
  10. Please do not use sugar free maple syrup to top with, you deserve better.

Soggy Bottom Blueberry Cobbler

Soggy Bottom Blueberry Cobbler is how you get pity from your once future in-laws. This is how to make people look at you like your dog just died. This is how your dog dies. This recipe summons the ancient gods to protect your cobbler in the oven and (spoiler) they fail. Soggy Bottom Blueberry Cobbler is the first attempt and first ugly public failure I have performed in my career of sub-par cooking. This soup doesn’t even taste good. There are no golden brown flaky criss-crossed crusts that steam beautiful golden ambrosia aromas to your family on Thanksgiving. The crusts will without a doubt sink to the bottom of the cobbler, you will cry, and there will be a 3/4 lake of blueberry pie filling left over.

This recipe embarrassed me so badly that I closed the lid on the uncleaned, mostly filled glass dish, zipped that baby up in the insulated travel bag, and left her on my kitchen shelf for exactly a year. Turn back now. Buy a Walmart pie, throw the box away, pop that sucker in the oven for a couple minutes and lie. Lie because it’s easier than presenting this monstrosity of a cobbler.

I used a recipe from my mom that was a pretty easy blackberry cobbler recipe and tried to make it vegan last minute on Thanksgiving day three hours before a family lunch. Do not take this to any serious family event. Or do, if you want to prank yourself.

 

Ingredients:

1 Cup all-purpose flour

1/2 Cup sugar (In this house we use bleached sugar none of that fancy bone-free sugar)

1 TBSP of baking powder (I stole this from my roommate)

1 Cup Almond milk (or whatever you got)

1/3 Cup of vegan butter melted  (this is gonna be what kills your bank since its like $5 per 1/4 cup)

1 Can of blueberry pie filling. (Whatever size you can get your hands on and maybe an extra can just incase because I got scared and didn’t measure.)

 

Directions: Oven

  1. Grease up a glass dish. I know there are specifics about depth and whatnot but it will suck anyways so just pick your favorite.
  2. Preheat to 350 degrees.
  3. Mix dry ingredients, warm milk.
  4. Add milk. Get nervous because its probably clumpy so add more. Once you mess that up, add the butter for a good ‘ol greasy blob.
  5. Empty one can of pie filling into glass dish, maybe part of another. Eat whatever is left of the second can. Its probably fine I don’t think vegans get salmonella so the batter is probably fine too. (I am not a doctor, this is not medically accurate.) It’ll all be fine, have faith.
  6. Pour the batter on top, try to make it an even coating. This is frivolous, but allows the maintenance of the delusion that you’re a good baker.
  7. Bake for 35-40 minutes but since you’ll be rushing because you did not plan for this make sure you keep opening the oven to make sure its baking. I promise, letting all the heat out will help.
  8. Once taken out of the oven, the cobbler is supposed to cool a little before serving, but make sure before it gets the chance you smack a travel lid on that bad boy and zip her up in a carrying case.
  9. Store in the floor board of the car.
  10. Drive 45 minutes.
  11. Present to your significant other’s family. The crust will be floating under all of the pie filling and you will have a delicious blueberry moat that tastes like fake pie and not actually good at all.
  12. Do not cry when your partner’s grandpa eats the soggy bottom cobbler and says its some good blueberry soup.
  13. When you get home, zip it up and never open the container again for at least a year to let the bacteria fester in your shame.
  14. Once a year has passed, when you are ready, remove dish from the zipper and velcro casket and burry in the back yard for the worms to finish off your black mold shame.
  15. Enjoy!

Jambalaya From A Box

This recipe is a bastardization of any form of jambalaya my mom made for a family meal. There is no way on god’s green Earth would I let this be fed to family members, lest I be cast into the pits of gnashing teeth and writhing souls of the women who could not cook for their husbands. This was one attempt of many I made in trying to show my boyfriend the type of food I grew up on, but a college student income is just enough for the mix-box-with-water-ignore-for-30-minutes-on-stove type of meal, not that good stuff my mama made for us.

Box Jambalaya is not the pretty summer aesthetic green grass bright sunshine turquoise blue bowls and glass dish ware on a yellow quilt recipe. I had one turquoise blue bowl in the whole house, it was my roommate’s and I burned a hole through the bottom. Only serve this dish in a dark room at 12am (or later) when your partner has not eaten all day, with a good episode of The Simpsons on. Paired best with stinky feet on the couch and the batteries from the fire alarm on the table.

This will not change your life and is only a recipe I swear by if you like ruined pans.

 

Ingredients:

1 Box of Jambalaya mix (I used Zatarain’s)

2.5 Cups of water

1 TBSP vegetable oil (unless you really love the crispy inch thick tar-like substance on the bottom of your pan like I sure do)

2 Vegetarian Sausages (I used something that tasted like dog food)

 

Directions: Stovetop

  1. Slice the vegetarian weenies in that long oval way that makes beanieweenies so fancy.
  2. Pan-fry the weenie disks. Take as long as you feel necessary, and if its real meat take as long as needed for the worms to die.
  3. Remove from pan, put it somewhere like a bowl or your hands if they’re calloused enough to handle it. Hands not recommended.
  4. Mix all ingredients into whatever pot will hold ’em, I recommend eyeballing it. If it boils over you wont know anyways.
  5. Bring to boil. Lower heat but keep the flame just a little too angry.
  6. Walk away for 25 minutes. Don’t look back. Whatever you do, do not stir. Maybe set a timer, or use whatever point in the Simpsons episode as a time marker. Maybe 40 minutes.
  7. At some point after the fire alarm reminds you that you have other obligations, turn the heat off and remove pot from burner.
  8. Use your strongest utensil to scrape the thick, blackened char and tasteless rice from the pot into a bowl. This may take a while, as charcoal rice tends to be rock solid and glued in a block of hateful positive space from the pot interior. The worms will be dead by now.
  9. Drown the char and bland rice/dog food weenie mixture in as much salt, hot sauce, pepper, and cajun seasoning that you can stand.
  10. Serve. Make sure the lighting is low and tastebuds are looking the other way. Enjoy!