Mmmm!

This took life as an e-mail, but at 1400+ words, I figured "why not?"

I do a lot of crock pot cookery, and the squash ratatouille is pretty simple.

I start with 4-6 yellow squash, a couple of zucchinis, and at least one Vidalia onion. (I love onions, so this frequently expands to 2 onions.) The squash get sliced thinner than the onions. Two cloves of garlic, at least, minced. One can of stewed tomatoes for color, or any cherry tomatoes you have left over in the fridge. A liberal dousing of white vinegar, a few shots of Worcestershire sauce, a dusting of garlic salt, and about six shakes of Tabasco™ sauce. (The cooking will kill the heat in the Tabasco. I like spicy, not hot. Tabasco sauce cooks out well in most things, and tastes great.) The onions should go in first, followed by the squash, the garlic, the salt, and the tomatoes and liquids will distribute the salt evenly.

I have two crock pots, a small one and a larger one. The small one cooks faster, so I use it for the veggies. A high setting for an hour or a low setting for two will probably get you there. Unlike my grandma, I don't believe in cooking veggies to mush, so you'll have to monitor the process and pull the plug when it reaches the desired crispness.

When you de-crock the veggies, keep the broth simmering. I always add an appropriate amount of brown rice, turn the setting to high, and check it in about and hour and a half.

I have a better recipe for rice, though. It takes some work and planning, but people beg me for my pilaf if I'll undertake it.

An experienced cook knows the expansion properties of rice, so start by setting up a kettle that will hold the amount you want: boiling water, and I use the garlic salt to hasten the process. You also want to be pre-heating the oven to 450° before you start. While the oven is heating, take a flat baking pan with sides, pour your rice in, and spread it out. Then pour a liberal quantity of liquid or melted butter over the rice, and work it into every grain by hand. (This is so sensual and tactile!) Once the butter is assimilated, make sure the rice forms a nice, even bed in the pan, and pop it into the oven. (I don't use precise measurements or exact times; I cook by feel and the seat of my pants.) In about 45 minutes, the rice should be browning on top. This means the butter has been absorbed by the grains. Take the pan out of the oven and dump it into the boiling water, which you then bring down to a low simmer. Put a top on the kettle and wait at least 45 minutes without peeking.

The oven bakes the butter into the rice. As the hot water enters the grains, it displaces the butter. What you'll have is totally un-gummy pilaf. No rice balls; every grain a delight. You just have to know when it's ready, though. This makes a great foundation for the squash ratatouille, or you can blanch some shrimp quickly and serve them on top.

Cooking a crepe on the bottom of an omelet pan is more a circus trick than anything else. You start with a basic roux of flour, eggs, milk, and salt. The consistency should be slightly thinner than what you'd use to make waffles or pancakes, but not too much so.

You need a dedicated, virgin omelet pan with a rounded bottom to pull this off. To prep the pan, dip a damp cloth into the cheapest regular salt you can find. (Morton's works fine.) Scrub the bottom and sides of the pan vigorously with the salty rag, re-dipping often. The salt scores the surface, and this will be important when the time comes. When the pan is suitably scrubbed down, rub melted butter over the bottom, and place it upside down on a burner at medium heat until the butter is crusty and beginning to smoke. (You only have to prep the pan once this way; that's why it's a dedicated utensil.) Let the pan cool, scrub the butter crust off, and repeat a couple more times. Pan prep is the key to success versus a huge mess. (Never clean the pan with hot water or detergent; wash it by hand under cold water and air-dry to preserve its integrity.)

When the pan is prepped, take a large dinner plate, a clean towel, and a sturdy rubber band. Secure the towel over the plate so you have a smooth surface on top. Using either melted or liquid butter, saturate the towel. Hint: it's kind of like fueling a Zippo lighter; you don't want the butter gooshing over the top of the towel, but you want it good and soaked.

Set the plate beside the stove, and turn a burner up halfway. Beside the plate, pour some of the roux into a flat container that'll accommodate the width of your omelette pan. Set the pan on the flame, "cooking [top] side" down, bottom up. Wait a minute, then pick the pan up. There's no way to describe it, but when you hold the bottom of the pan near the side of your face, you'll know by the heat emanating off it that the pan is hot enough.

With a swirling motion of your wrist, rub the bottom and sides of the pan on the butter-soaked towel you've set up. Quickly, as it's losing heat! Then gently glide the pan into the roux. You'll hear a sizzle as you do so. Lift the pan straight up, keeping the bottom level. A string of roux will fall off, hopefully in the exact center of the pan. Turn the pan over and put it on the burner. When the edges of the crepe show a light brown crust--1 minute is the optimum time--take the pan off, turn it over, and gently deposit your crepe onto a plate. (All that prep work you did with the salt and butter on the pan should ensure it's absorbed a lot of butter into the scoring, and will release the crepe willingly.)

Rub, dip, repeat; depending on how many crepes you want. If this is done right, you'll have the thinnest, crispiest crepes you ever ate. If it goes wrong, you'll be up to your ass in alligators, rapidly deteriorating roux, and aborted crepes floating in the dip pan. Learning this trick is really a hands-on process; there is no way to demonstrate the correct temperature of the pan, or the consistency of the roux. It's trial-and-error, but it can be done. I'm so good at it that I flip and spin the pans like drumsticks when I'm cooking, and sometimes use two or more pans and burners at the same time.

Crepes are all-purpose. Greek fishermen used to wrap ratatouille in them and take them out on the water for lunch. You can use strawberries and whipped cream as filling for an outstanding dessert. Beef chunks and baby onions in a bourginon sauce make an excellent entree, as does cubed chicken breast, broccoli, and green peppers in a white wine gravy.

The broccoli is a no-brainer. I blanch it in a chef's pot for ten minutes or less, until it has the right consistency. Then I drain it, set it on a plate, and cover it with slices of pepperjack cheese. A minute or less in the microwave melts the cheese, which is then sprinkled with finely-minced fresh garlic to taste.

Yeah, I should have a cooking show on TV, but I'll leave that to people with personalities like Rachel Ray and Paula Deen. It's been an absolute rule for nearly thirty years that if I undertake a cooking project, I am to be left absolutely alone in the kitchen. I also refuse to clean up in the aftermath.

The chef who taught me a lot of this was graduate of the Cordon Bleu school in Paris, and a crazy SOB. He always kept a pan of oily, boiling water on a back burner where he was working; not to cook with, but to toss on any unruly waiters who gave him grief, and he let that be known to all who placed food orders with him. I've seen homosexual waiters tuned up on coke, and they can be a rowdy bunch. I do the same thing with a pot of water in my kitchen before falling into the Zen trance that dedicated cooking induces. ("Not now!" usually suffices.)

Happy cooking! I ain't scared of no cholesterol, and calories, like veggies, are my buddies.

"Living well is the best revenge."