I'm jumping forward a little bit and posting this ahead of some others I have in the wings because I just couldn't resist—look at that sunny yellow nugget! How can you resist?

I thought I was biased because I have a disproportionate love for every kind of sandwich, but it turns out they really do make for ideal weeknight dinners: fast, low-stress, and ever so happy in your tummy.

Despite my affinity for all manner of rich foods—primarily fried potatoes and melted cheese—I feel equally strongly that there has to be something to break up the heaviness (a vegetable, some shocking spiciness) so that you don't end a meal with a brick in your stomach and a vaguely queasy feeling.

I like fresh tomatoes on my pizza and spinach in my dips and happy, crunchy cabbage in my fried rice. I'm not going to eat an Alfredo sauce unless it has 17 tablespoons of dried crushed red pepper in it.

What you see before you is slightly odd, which I know is not what you've come to expect on the Woodside. 

Ahem.

LSis says I can't let the Woodside occupy this particular corner of the Internet with that as my last post. So I'm back! And I made a ridiculously unseasonable dish for September in Alabama!

Once upon a time I wrote a lovely, sincerely self-deprecating post about my frustration with my photography lately and my ambivalence about (but commitment to!) my unfailingly arbitrary November Challenge. And then Blogger went and deleted it. Profanity after the jump.

Last night's dinner was mostly an exercise in focused distraction, so I don't think we'll be winning any food photography awards here. Also, I'm suddenly concerned that my oven rests on a steep decline—what's with all the tomato migration?

I'm trying to get on a schedule of posting at night, so I know this comes dangerously close to spammy blogging. Ergo, I shall keep this one short. Or as short as a chronically verbose person can be.

So I got one of those wild hairs I sometimes get, one of those notions that I need to inject my life with some capital-C challenge, something that will make me more mindful, more healthy, more energized, more wise. In a word, less sleepy.

Hey, remember when I used to cook? Ah, those were the days ...

You're looking at two of my new favorite loves, there: panko and hiding vegetables in interesting ways. (Namely, under cheese.)

I'm not even trying to pretend this one is fancy, gourmet, complex, or anything other than what it is, which is delicious.

Me: I can't believe it took me until I was *ahem* years old before I started to understand what it means to crave something.
Little Sister: It sure does make eating more satisfying.

It's becoming something of a reigning philosophy 'round the Woodside that when in doubt, meat and potatoes.

One of these days I'm going to stop beginning every blog post with an apology for my absence. Like just before the next scheduled Rapture, or after this debt ceiling thing gets sorted out.

You might have to suspend disbelief on this one, though you're probably already in that habit given that I am the woman who extolled the virtues of cole slaw pizza.

People, this is not health food. Though at this rate, that probably should be the new name of this blog: thisisnothealthfood.com.

I have a particular talent for unsalading a salad, the sweet gift of turning something that is supposed to be healthfully holier-than-thou into a lovely mess of delicious calories. The Cobb salad is an ideal starting point for this sort of bastardization, in part because it doesn't do a very good job of masquerading as a salad in the first place. It's basically a deconstructed fatty sandwich. (I don't think I need to reiterate my love for the fatty sandwich.)

I have a soft spot for Cobb salad, too, standing out there yelling, "I'm a salad, I swear!" when it's really something you might make when you're in tears. Anyone who has ever thought that chicken and hard-boiled eggs are not enough without avocado and cheese and bacon on top is a) someone who has had some emotional wreckage and b) my kind of people.



Alas, my local market (once again) failed me, neglecting to stock half of the ingredients for a decent Cobb salad, and I was left trying to steer things in my favorite direction: south ... west ... ish?

I decided that if this salad was not—tragedy!—going to have the benefit of avocado, I'd replace it with a black bean/corn salsa. Having determined that beans + chicken + eggs + cheese was probably enough protein for my lithe form, I forwent the bacon.

(Or possibly, because I can't tolerate anything other than the apparently FANCY center-cut style, I'm just way too cheap to spend six bucks on bacon. True story. BaconIloveyou.)

After that, it was just a matter of gathering all my favorite South of the border flavors, or what I imagine them to be—red onion, cilantro, jalapeño—and after that ... well, things got a little crazy.

Because I was intoxicated by hunger while I was at the grocery store, I was too under the influence of my weaker brain cells to pass by the Snyder's buttermilk ranch pretzel pieces. But no matter; I'm confidently reassured that calories don't stick when you're suffering the effects of rabid starvation.

But as I was staring at the little nuggets of yum in the bowl I'd poured half the bag into (portion control, people), I got a wild hair to crush some of them up with a mortar and pestle and crust the chicken in the crumbs.

I am nothing if not resourceful, and also determined to cover everything in my life with ranch. (Those of you who look REALLY REALLY closely will note that I had less than zero patience and/or attention span for the crushing, and mostly just slapped some gigantic pieces of pretzel all over the chicken.)

To be honest, I wasn't as thrilled with the results as I'd hoped. Yes, the pretzels gave the chicken a pleasantly crispety crunchy crust, but most of the salty buttermilky ranchy potential got lost in the cooking. I see absolutely no reason why you shouldn't have pretzel-crusted chicken on your path of salad destruction, but it's probably not ultimately worth the effort.

My advice? Just pour some ranch on top before eating. NO ONE HAS TO KNOW.



Composed Southwestern Cobb Salad with Pretzel-crusted Chicken
½ cup low-fat sour cream
1 jalapeño, seeded and diced
Salt, to taste
Pinch of granulated sugar
Hot sauce, to taste
½ cup coarsely chopped fresh cilantro leaves, divided
1 lime, divided
¼ (15-ounce) can low-sodium black beans, drained and rinsed
¼ cup frozen corn kernels, thawed
¼ cup diced red onion
Pinch of ground cumin
1 teaspoon garlic powder
½ chicken breast, pounded to an even thickness
½ cup Snyder's buttermilk ranch pretzel pieces, crushed
2 tablespoons olive oil
¼ head iceberg lettuce, chopped
¼ pint grape tomatoes, halved
1 ounce Monterey Jack cheese, grated
1 hard-boiled egg, sliced
Garnish: lime wedges

1. Combine first 5 ingredients, ¼ cup cilantro, and juice of ½ lime in a small bowl. Set aside.

2. Combine black beans, corn, onion, cumin, garlic powder, and juice of remaining ½ lime in a medium bowl. Set aside.

3. Dredge chicken breast in pretzel pieces. Heat oil in skillet over medium heat; cook chicken about 4 minutes on each side or until browned and cooked through.

4. Combine lettuce and remaining ¼ cup cilantro on a plate; top with reserved sour cream mixture. Arrange black bean mixture, tomatoes, cheese, egg, and chicken alongside lettuce. Garnish, if desired. Makes 1 serving.

There are only a handful of Vietnamese restaurants in my municipality, but I credit one of them with introducing me to the concept of pho, which I believe is Vietnamese for "noodle soup."

This isn't pho (I admit I don't know much about the various incarnations of this across the Asian continent—I'm sure there are many, and I beg forgiveness for the many ways I've destroyed their authenticity in my own kitchen), but the overriding factor in my adoration is depth. There just seems to be this bottomless layering of flavors that seems beautifully endless: starchy noodles, spicy broth, hearty chicken, crisp onion, bright lime, soft egg, and, in this case, chicken broth, curry paste, fish sauce, soy, coconut milk, sriracha ... Every bite is the definition of satisfaction.

It's without doubt the best cure for a cold—all that warm comfort and gentle heat are soothing, while the protein and carbohydrates (hello, lover) restore your energy. I'm not ill, thankfully, but last night proved surprisingly cold in the Deep South, and it felt like the perfect excuse to make one last bowl of soup for the season.

I've made this a few times now, adapted each time more and more from a recipe I found at When East Meets West. I'm a bit flummoxed by it—the components seem to be there, but there's still some missing chromosome that's keeping it from being all it can be. The first time I made it, I attempted to correct its flatness by stirring in a king's ransom of sriracha, and while it was delicious, it was still missing something. This time I added curry paste, a step in the right direction, but it's still not all the way there.

As a personal preference, I don't adore poached chicken. I think next time the chicken might get sautéed. Maybe less broth? More lime? It's a testament to how good this is that I keep making it, but I'm going to continue to tinker with it.

If you want to be a little bit bad, I suggest eating the good stuff and then throwing a bit of hot cooked rice in to soak up the broth. Or maybe you could just put the rice and noodles on a pizza crust between two slices of bread. Carbs are your friend.

I'd love for someone to make this and tell me what it needs to reach its full potential. No chicken noodle soup left behind!



Chicken Coconut Noodle Soup
1 large sweet onion, halved and cut into thin crescents
3 tablespoons fish sauce
3 tablespoons soy sauce
3 tablespoons red curry paste
3 garlic cloves, chopped
1 (2-inch) piece fresh ginger, peeled and minced
2 teaspoons ground turmeric
2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1-inch cubes
¼ cup vegetable oil
1 large yellow onion, chopped
2 teaspoons ground paprika
3 (13.5-ounce) cans lite coconut milk
7 cups chicken stock
½ cup cornstarch
16 ounces dried Chinese egg noodles
6 hard-boiled eggs, peeled and sliced
Sriracha, to taste
2 green onions, white and green parts, chopped
1 cup chopped fresh cilantro
3 limes, quartered

1. Place sweet onions slices in a small bowl, and cover with cold water. Set aside.

2. Combine fish sauce and next 5 ingredient; add chicken, and stir well. Set aside.

3. Heat oil in a Dutch oven over medium heat until it becomes runny and starts to shimmer. Stir in yellow onion, and cook 3 to 4 minutes or until soft and translucent. Add paprika, and mix until onions are well coated.

4. Add chicken and marinade; raise the heat to medium-high, and cook, stirring, 5 minutes. Add coconut milk and stock, and bring to a gentle boil, stirring occasionally. Reduce the heat to medium-low, cover, and simmer 20 minutes.

5. Whisk together cornstarch and ½ cup warm water; stir into soup, and return to a boil. Simmer over medium-low heat 10 minutes or until the soup thickens slightly. Reduce heat to low, and keep warm until ready to serve.

6. Cook noodles according to package directions. Divide among individual soup bowls, and ladle over each about 1½ cups soup. Top with reserved sweet onion slices, eggs, sriracha, green onions, and cilantro. Serve with limes. Makes 6 servings.

SHH! I was never here.

But I really, really, really hope to be back soon.



Cheddar Grits with Black Beans, Lentils, Sausage, and a Poached Egg
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, diced
1 large jalapeño chile, diced
Kosher salt, to taste
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
¼ teaspoon dried crushed red pepper
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 packet taco seasoning mix
3 cups low-sodium beef broth
1 (14.5-ounce) can crushed tomatoes
2 (15-ounce) cans black beans, drained and rinsed
1 cup dried brown lentils, rinsed
10 ounces hot smoked sausage, cut into bite-size pieces
Instant grits
6 to 8 ounces freshly grated Cheddar cheese
White wine vinegar
4 large eggs
Garnish: Chopped green onion

1. Heat olive oil over medium-high heat in a stockpot; add onion, jalapeño, and red pepper. Season with salt and pepper, and sauté 5 minutes or until onions become translucent. Stir in garlic and taco seasoning mix, and cook 2 more minutes.

2. Add beef broth, tomatoes, beans, and lentils; bring to a boil. Cover, reduce heat, and simmer 1 hour or until lentils are tender.

3. Sauté sausage in a dry pan until browned. Stir into cooked lentils. Cover pot, and keep warm over low heat.

4. Prepare 4 servings instant grits according to package directions. Stir in cheese. Cover pot, and keep warm over low heat.

5. In a small saucepan, bring water to a gentle boil. Add a splash of vinegar. Crack 1 egg into a small bowl. Stir boiling water vigorously with a spoon to create a small well in the center, and carefully add egg to center of pan. Cook 1 to 2 minutes or until whites are set but yolks are still very runny. Remove from pot with a slotted spoon. Repeat with remaining 3 eggs.

6. Divide grits among 4 serving bowls; top with lentil-sausage mixture and poached eggs. (There will be lots of lentils left over.) Garnish, if desired. Makes 4 servings.