Stop, Thief.

You know my tomato plant? The one bestowed upon me by my mother? The five-foot-tall plant that, as yet, has produced one edible tomato? Welp, someone stole it.

I went to sit on our back porch to read and spy on my neighbors, er. And I recalled how I hadn't watered my tomato plant in ... a couple days. I looked down to the landing on our dangerously steep staircase and no tomato plant.

I suppose this isn't the worst thing that could happen in our Midtown neighborhood, and my Zen-y yoga instructor noted that perhaps the person who stole my tomatoes needed them more than I do.

I have my suspects. Chiefly, the neighbors who disappeared around the same time as my plant. I'm guessing they got evicted from the basement of the tenement house next door. Not to judge or anything. Hope they make some fine bruschetta.

Most Extreme Cooking Challenge 08.

I will take this moment to reminisce about a scene that happened in my life pre-blog (thus there is only one incriminating photo). It involved two of my best friends and a lot of rice.

Craig flew all the way from Atlantie to Omaha in August just to visit Megan and me (and Eric) for a most excellent four-day weekend. We didn't do any of the typical things I make people do when they visit me in Omaha (in my attempt to impress them that this town is cosmopolitan and not all about cows and Cornhuskers, even though it sort of is). So instead of going to the zoo or the Old Market or Dundee or a concert or or or something, we decided to have a cook-off, to be judged by Megan's (completely biased) boyfriend, Eric.

Let me give you a hint of how dangerous this idea could have been to our friendship: I am the least competitive of the three. Not exaggerating. Before we really started planning the meal and after we designated a course for each of us to cook (Craig drew dessert out of the hat), we had to set down rules. Rule 1: The dish had to be one we had never made before. Rule 2: In the vein of Iron Chef America, we would all use one ingredient in our dishes: rice. (Megan and I both broke rule number two).

Craig decided to make rice pudding. I made an orzo/tomato/ mozzarella salad. Megan made fish tacos. Technically orzo isn't rice, it's pasta. But it looks like rice, and I bet the Iron Chef peeps would let it slide. And we totally forgot to make the Spanish rice portion of Megan's meal. At any rate, Eric deemed Craig's "the most delicious." Craig was a gracious winner (for about 3 seconds) and was so excited about his new masterpiece that he made it the following night for Megan's family who was in town for her graduation.

He cooked the rice on the stove and then with the eggs and cream and whatever else in the oven. And really, his presentation was by far the best of the previous night's dishes. A small helping in a cute little ice cream bowl was topped with a dollop of whipped cream and (drum roll please) a cinnamon stick and nutmeg.

So Craig and Megan are taking orders and dolling out the dessert while Krista and I are talking about boys in the kitchen. Craig comes back to dish out his own rice pudding and picks up the nutmeg to discover that it's not nutmeg at all. It's chili powder. I almost fell off the counter I was sitting on, and Megan ran out into the living room shouting, in true Anne of Green Gables fashion, "Don't eat it! Don't eat the rice pudding!" (remember when Anne finds a dead mouse in the flour and doesn't tell anybody ... or maybe not, was I the only one raised on PBS in the 80s). It was too late. They had already devoured the rice pudding and hadn't even noticed the chili powder. Classic kitchen moment.

Photo credit: Food Network

More Mushrooms.

We're already aware of my affinity towards mushrooms. (I still can't believe I refused to eat these things as a child). The fungi is to me one of the quintessential fall ingredients. It's so hearty and earthy. This meal is certainly that. The recipe is from Food and Wine, the source of much inspiration for fall for me (more to come next week). Though I must boast that I one-upped the gourmet cooking magazine by substituting the called-for gnocchi with some homemade ravioli still in my freezer. Take that Food and Wine!! I know I've already talked about it, but HyVee only had two kinds of fresh mushrooms (portobello and cremini). They didn't even have shiitake when I went yesterday. So I had to buy dried oyster mushrooms and reconstitute them, which was fine because then I used the water to boil my ravioli in and my kitchen smelled like dirt all evening. At first, I wasn't really crazy about this dish. (I probably should have used real cream instead of buttermilk, as it did go a bit chunky). But at the end, I was literally spooning the sauce from the skillet into my mouth. Megan came home and I couldn't lick the plate. Ravioli with Wild (sort of) Mushrooms: (serves 6) 2 tablespoons olive oil 2 tablespoons butter 2 pounds mixed mushrooms, coarsely chopped 1/2 cup onion, chopped 1/4 cup marsala cooking wine 3/4 cup chicken stock 1/2 cup cream 1 teaspoon thyme salt and pepper to taste 2 pounds stuffed pasta 6 tablespoons parmasan cheese Heat olive oil with butter in skillet. Add mushrooms and onions, cook until mushrooms are browned. Add marsala and cook until evaporated. Add the stock, cream and thyme, season with salt and pepper and bring to a boil Meanwhile boil a pot of salted water and cook pasta until the ravioli floats to the surface. Drain. Add the pasta to the mushrooms and simmer, stirring for one minute. Stir in parmasan cheese.

Chili Is for Fall.

I knew it was coming. The outer leaves on oak trees are starting to fade to orange and then red, and there's finally got that "crisp" fall feeling when you step outside. So it is definitely chili weather. This is the chili recipe I grew up loving, straight out of a Better Homes and Gardens cookbook published back in 1975. Classic. I did have a couple issues making this ridiculously simple meal. One, I found a pound of ground beef at HyVee for a whopping $1.99. Woah! That's way less than a gallon of gas. You may be asking, What's the issue here? Well all I could think when I picked up the meat was: "This cow was abused and shot with loads of hormones, this cow was abused, this cow was abused." I felt bad. For a second. But come on, we are in an economic crisis (or so evidenced by the quarterly report on my 401k--down 20 percent for the year!!!!). Issue number two occurred while lettting the chili simmer for the allotted hour. I left it on the stove with the burner as low as I (thought I) could and settled down to watch Friends reruns. I went back to check on it after 45 minutes, and it was almost burned and parts of it were singed to the bottom of the pot. It's the stove, I tell you. I thought these burners were supposed to be the preferred choice of chefs because it's easier to control the heat. But our not-so-cutting-edge stovetop has two settings: high and off. Not to worry, I still ate the chili and it was/is still good. Megan also made chili. As she is a vegetarian, she's not going to be eating my stew laced with neglected cow meat (I don't blame her). I would argue that Megan's chili had more flavor and more kick than mine. As spices, she added a packet of taco seasoning and a packet of dry ranch mix. Good. And guilt free (unless you're talking about sodium levels). So I ate two bowls of chili on the perfect fall night. Not a bad life. Chili Con Carne: 1 pound ground beef 1/2 cup chopped green pepper 1/4 cup chopped onion 1 14.5-ounce can diced tomatoes 1 14.5-ounce can kidney beans, rinsed 1 8-ounce can tomato sauce 1 4-ounce can diced black olives 1 bay leaf 2 teaspoons chili powder salt and pepper to taste Brown meat. Saute onion and green pepper until soft. Add the rest of the ingredients. Bring to a boil and simmer for one hour, covered. The olives are optional. They're my mom's addition to this recipe.

Maria and Garlic.

Maria is one of the first of my friends to get her own house. So she made this dish in a kitchen that she owns. Inferiority complexes aside (it's a bad market anyway, right?), I admit a bit of mouth watering over the dish. It's chicken and veggies in a garlic marinade. Surprised? Anyone who knows Maria understands her love (obsession) with garlic. She puts it in everything. It was sort of a joke back at the house on Florence and Jefferson in Kirksville. She even got one of this metal "bar of soap" thingy that washes off weird odors (like garlic and fish).

My other comment about this to note how healthy my friends/two-of-five faithful readers (doesn't anyone make cookies?). Also how much they seem to like alcohol (note the bottle of beer).

Again, send me some lovely, mouth-watering photos of your food, and I'll do a nice, complimentary post about you (even you, dad, gravy, gravy, gravy). lrseyler at hotmail dot com. Thanks.

Amsterdam Falafel (or What Happens When the Seylers Eat Out).

The family (minus Emily) went out for dinner for my sister's (Al) birthday last Friday. Selecting a restaurant is always an interesting interaction, particularly when Al gets to make a decision as she is probably the biggest of all the people-pleasing children in the Seyler household--and everybody knows it. She initially says, "Let's go to Taste," (a favorite of all the Seyler ladies). Dad immediately quips that it will take too long, and we won't make 9:15 movie. So he suggests ... Jason's Deli. What?! While I do enjoy Jason's Deli (for lunch), it is not at all comparable to Al's first choice. I scoff. Then comes, "Well you pick a place, you're the restaurant reviewer." Ack! The pressure. I have lately been updating The Reader's database of all the restaurants in the metropolitan area, and it is freaking ridiculous. Fortunately, I rallied and made what was certainly the best choice (if I do say so myself). Amsterdam Falafel on 50th and Underwood is local and delicious (thus pacifying me), has good-to-decent design (pacifying Allison), is cheap (Dad) and is cool (Mom)--Emily doesn't care and had better things to do. But Dad remained a skeptic until he paid and had eaten his food. Upon entering the tiny establishment, Dad is baffled. There are three to five things on the menu, only one of which he understands (fries). He is whispering to me, "What is a falafel? What's on a kebab? Is there meat? Does it come with tomatoes?" I can feel his anxiety-level rising at the thought of getting something without meat and with those horrid, juicy red things. He must not have seen the giant spit of lamb meat in the open kitchen. The restaurant is small enough that our family of four practically overwhelmed it. Fortunately, the proprietor was happy to explain the process for making the more-than-sufficiently meat-stuffed (and tomato-less) kebab with a choice of garlic, herb and spicy sauces. Meals for four with two orders of fries and sodas all-around cost $26. And everyone more than enjoyed their enormous kebabs. These guys come stuffed with chickpeas, a red cabbage relish sort of thing, an herby tzatziki sauce and a grip of meat. We should have shared.

I love this establishment not just for it's food, but because it reminds me of the kind of place that would be in New York's West Village or, I don't know, Paris' Latin Quarter (which I have been to, and they do have Greek/Turkish food galore, so I'm not just saying this). It's small, and like New York dining establishments where space is a commodity, there is no lobby. And if you haven't experienced the late-night European scene, kebab stands stay open well after the bars close, serving hungry drunk people on their way home from the bars.

So the reason why I like this place is because it doesn't seem like the kind of restaurant Omaha would have (and they employ one particularly attractive fellow, and I mean particularly attractive, as in extremely). Yes, it's a lame reason to like a place, but I don't care.

Photo Credit: UNO Gateway

Jenny's Tilapia.

Jenny (photographic genious) sent me this in an email--not the food (unfortunately) just the photo. Tilapia with baked veggies. I have noticed the green beans are really delish this year (maybe they are every year and I just don't notice), plus mushrooms, hello, haven't I already posted at least once about my obsession with the fungi? My only question was if she drank that entire bottle of gewurtz in the background. She definitely should have invited me over to help out (too bad she lives in St. Louis). Send me photos and/or recipes of your food and I will totally post it--that way I won't have to cook as much, and you'll get the spotlight (we all win!). Send to lrseyler at hotmail dot com.

Homemade Pasta.

Channeling grandma noni, I embarked on making my own stuffed pasta. I have done this recipe once before, so I knew it was possible and tasty. It's a Giada di Laurentiis dish--seriously, everything made by that woman is amazing. I want to be her and her cute wardrobe, plunging neckline, big hair/head, delicious food and staff of assistants. I imagine she has fantastic dinner parties five nights a week with 20 of her closest friends constantly reminding her how fabulous she is. I own two of her cookbooks, and everything I have made from them is exceptional. The dough recipe is too easy. Really, too easy. It's only flour and hot water. I knew from the first time I made this I would want the dough to be as thin as it could be without ripping. But let me tell you, rolling dough is a workout. And I think because this dough was so easy, it really tougher the more I worked with it. I think I was rolling the dough for half an hour, and I just kept getting hungier and more tired, so I added more stuffing to finish it off. It was nearing seven o'clock when I finally threw some ravioli in a pot of boiling water, and I kept thinking, "Gossip Girl is starting in seven minutes, Gossip Girl is starting in seven minutes. I wonder if Nate will be on this episode? Maybe Chuck and Blair will finally make up, and Serena will stop being a bitch." I finished just in time to leave an enormous mess in the kitchen and to realize that GG was a rerun this week. And it took me about 10 minutes to finish eating my pasta. I do have a lot leftover now sitting in my freezer, and I know it will only take 10 minutes to boil water to have another good meal. But it all seemed a bit anticlimactic. This is not a mom-friendly meal. I do not know how grandma noni did this--kids were probably better behaved back in the good ol' days, right? But I must admit, I would make a great stay-at-homer. *sigh* If only I were a wife *sigh* I felt like a real adult last night, making dinner, doing laundry, cleaning dishes and taking out the trash, aside from the whole working and paying bills part of adulthood. (Cooking is way more fun.) (I'm going to send you all to the Food Network site for the recipe, since I've already digress here enough).

I Could Live On Salad Alone.

Oh man, I did not feel like cooking last night. For the first time I felt the pressure: "I started this cooking blog and I have got to update it, I need to make something good." But I didn't even feel like eating anything. Pasta? Had that this weekend--three times. Chicken? Too heavy. Soup? I wanted instant gratification last night; I did not want to wait for something to simmer on my moody stovetop. The only thing I wanted to eat was mushrooms. I used to loathe mushrooms. I thought they were creepy. Fungus? Edible fungus? I found them kind of slimy when sauteed, versus the almost starchy consistency of raw shrooms. You can't trust something like that, right? And I swear even the smell of them caused a gag reflex at age 10. But as with tomatoes, olives, eggplant, squash, garbanzo beans, beans in general, scallops, mussels, tofu, wine and other superior food (can you believe I didn't eat these at one point), I gained an appreciation for them from traveling. In Thailand, my chef/friend/adopted-mother would make me this all-vegetable dish with like seven different kinds of mushrooms: shittake (I love that word), those long and skinny ones, the ones with the lacy edges, probably button mushrooms. I die. There are only like three kinds of mushrooms available at HyVee. Alas, another meal I can never recreate. I finally gave in to my lazy, tired, whiny, I-don't-feel-like-it attitude and bought a rotisserie chicken for $5 at HyVee, feta cheese, portabello mushrooms (because that was all they had), bell peppers and Annie's Naturals Shittake and Sesame dressing (sort of expensive, but the freaking best dressing I have ever had). I made a salad. It took about 5 minutes, and it was awesome. I'm planning on using the rest of the rotisserie chicken to make a homemade stuffed pasta of sorts (or on a salad tonight). Disaster waiting just around the corner.

Saturday Basghetti.

Friday I went to this old neighborhood Italian restaurant for a review for The Reader. Best thing I can say about them: superb, sweet, silky red sauce. I wrote how it was as good as my mother's. True. Sort of. Mostly it's just completely different. My mom's sauce isn't smooth. It's chunky, with chopped onions, diced tomatoes and meat.

Bailey came over after we volunteered at the Hope Center. Spaghetti seemed the simplest option for a quick dinner. One thing my version lacked, however, was the Italian sausage. My mom always adds this to give the meal a kick. This is the thing that makes this recipe a favorite of Craig's. We made it for that first Valentine's Day dinner in 2004 at the guys' Riggan House (on their one functioning burner), Craig has been subtly requesting it ever since. (Here you go Craig, in case you lost the last recipe I gave you).

Spaghetti and Meat Sauce:

3/4 cup chopped onion

1 clove garlic, minced

3 tablespoons olive oil

2 14.5-ounce cans diced tomatoes

2 6-ounce cans tomato paste

2 cups water

1 teaspoon sugar

1 1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon pepper

1 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano

1 bay leaf

cooked spaghetti

1 pound ground beef, cooked

Cook onion and garlic in oil until tender. Stir in next 8 ingredients. Add meat. Simmer uncovered 30 minutes; remove bay leaf. Serve over spaghetti.