Baked Sweet Potato with Lime and Cilantro II

I suggested my delectable super simple sweet potato recipe to my coworker several months ago, and she loved it. Last week, I discovered that I communicate badly- even when if comes to describing recipes. She's been lightly oiling a shallow pan, slicing a couple of sweet potatoes into rings, squeezing a couple of limes over them, and baking them at 350 degrees until done. Then she sprinkles them with salt and cilantro. I figured it's one extra pan to wash, but worth an attempt- so I tried it. It was about as good as the unsliced one the first day, but on the second day the pan sauce mutated into some sort of miraculous dressing- like those honey mustard dressings but good. Very very good. So try making sweet potatoes this way if you like sweet mustard dressings or elves wash your pots. Make lots.

Moros y Cristianos

I tripled this recipe, because I have poor judgement. Two days later it has all been eaten. So yes, it is very tasty. And while this recipe will comfortably serve two for dinner and then breakfast, why not double it?

Take one and one half cups dry turtle beans and pick them over. I have opinions about dry beans which will probably be explained on some dreary day. For now, remember that it is important that the beans be fresh, or they will never get soft. Also, do not add acid or salt until they are cooked or the skins will become tough. Simmer the beans in a heavy pot over low heat with 4 cups water for about an hour- until the beans are tender. (You could be slow roasting some pork with lime and orange and cumin in a low oven, in which case the beans will be happy to hang out there.)

Rinse 1 cup brown rice and add it to the softened beans with two more cups of water or stock. Return pot to heat. Chop one medium onion, one bell pepper (Red is better, but green is fine. Lord knows I can't afford red.) and two handfuls of cilantro. Saute these ingredients with a little oil until the onion is nicely browned. Add the mire poix to the beans and rice, and taste to see if the rice is done. Cook cautiously until the resulting pottage is something you want to eat.

Good with salsa fresca, or (gasp) a fried egg.

This is the tastiest thing I have ever eaten in the name of multiculturalism.

Avocado Salsa

The second salsa in as many days! It is as the legends foretold!

Take a perfectly ripe avocado. Slice it in half and remove the seed. Dice the flesh inside the peel and scoop it out with a spoon. Add the juice of 1/2 lime, a half handful of chopped cilantro, and one finely diced jalapeño, without the seeds. (Or with them, fine.) Señor C may be sad, but jalapeños are essential to this salsa. My father sometimes uses canned jalapeños- which allow for greater regulation of capsaicin content.

Mango Salsa

Earlier, I indicated that there was a huge range of salsa besides tomato. I have *two* kinds of Solanaceae free salsa for you this coming week, to prove my wild-eyed allegations.

Take some mangoes. If you've got Tommy Atkins (what a problematic imperialist name for a fruit variety) mangoes, two will be sufficient. If you have Manila mangoes, four will be necessary. If you have another variety of mango, I will assume you are familiar enough with the first two varieties to draw your own conclusions. (I can also come to where you live and test these mangoes extensively.) Cutting mangoes is a bit difficult- there is a line of rough bilateral symmetry which indicates the location of the seed. One can remove large ovals of mango flesh from either side of this line- and then peel off the slightly toxic skin and dice the fruit into a bowl. The remaining flesh on the mango disc could be conscientiously sliced into the bowl, in theory. This has never actually happened. Instead, remove the last bits of skin, gnaw on the pit like the primate you are, floss your teeth, and get on with the rest of the salsa. (This involves repeating the process with at least one more mango. Other people might point out that you can share the mango pits, but you should point out that you are both making the salsa and holding a very sharp knife.)

Dice 1/4 medium onion very finely and add to the mango bowl. Dice 1/2 bell pepper(inessential), one handful cilantro, and one handful mint. (Mint is actually pretty important, but don't let the lack of mint combined with a surfeit of mangoes prevent making mango salsa.) Put these things in the bowl. Add the juice of 1.5 limes and a sprinkle of salt. Stir. If I'm making this for my Midwestern father, I chop in a couple of chiles. If I make this for my Chilean husband, I add a little more lime and mock him.

My entire family pretends that only I know this recipe so they will not have to chop all of these things. Now it is on the Internet, and they have no excuse.

My Last At Least I Wasn't That Desperate: Saddest Kale Salad

Unlike some people, I take my commitment to kale seriously.

Sometimes one is halfway through the morning routine, dressed in slacker business casual, and the sun rises revealing a beautiful cloudless sky. One curses the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration for its lies about definite precipitation. One now has about 15 minutes to remove the frost from the car windshield, possibly gas up the car, change into field clothing, and stuff 800 calories into a box before driving to the marina. It's days like these that engender the saddest kale salad.

Grab some kale. Pull it off of the stems and put it into tupperware until the tupperware is full. Add some vinegar and some oil. Close the tupperware. It's worth taking an extra second to make sure there's a fork in the lunchbox, because eating sad kale salad with fingers is not pleasant.

People will tell you that raw kale is inedible, but you'd be surprised at what seems edible when there's nothing else in your lunchbox but almonds.

At Least I Wasn't That Desperate: Cider and Fizzy Water

I am not a big fan of adult beverages. I mean, I like R's mai tais, and about three sips of good champagne. Everything else I drink is so that I can hang with the cool kids. I am merely flotsam in the tides of peer pressure.

So there it is: sparkling cider for those of us who keep picking up sulphur tones in the Martinelli's.

At Least I Wasn't That Desperate: Mashed Avocados on Toast

I told myself I'd post every single day in November. (I did it too, because I am reliable and trustworthy and not inherently flaky at all.) I built up a little backlog of photos for when my back was up against the wall. Although the situation was never dire enough for me to roll out the truly pathetic recipes, I see no reason not to burn through them now, while I think of things to do with persimmons and additional bad ideas.