I don't think I could have custom ordered a more gorgeous day than today. 74 degrees, sunny, and not a whisper of wind in the air. For once, I can go to the show in the morning and smile at Jason. Who wants snow when you have this to look forward to? Also, the week off that I so desperately need is right around the corner, in the form of Spring Break. Obviously, I won't be teaching at "the W" that week, but I also will be taking that time off from the show. Please understand that I, too, get worn out, and my heart, mind and soul need a well deserved rest. I probably already told y'all all of this sometime last week (I am more than a little excited about the idea of a week off that doesn't involve someone being sick, having surgery, an official holiday, or traveling to see relatives), but I feel it bears repeating, because every time I miss a show or two, I get emails from viewers worried that I have quit, skipped town, or have some odd disease.

As my countdown to Spring Break begins, I officially have two shows and two classes to go. Show one, today. I had a viewer comment that she wished I would make breakfast every now and then. Apparently, the sight of the Sunrise gang chow down on enchiladas, chili, and casseroles at five a.m. turn her tummy. While I like doing breakfast items, and regular viewers are well familiar with Bill's love of all things sausage, there are only so many breakfast and brunch items out there to prepare. I've thinned the list out considerably after almost three years of appearing on the show. Today's dish is sort of brunchy. We are preparing Garlic Cheese Grits. They are so far removed from heart-healthy and diet healthy that I fully expect some form of nutritional police to confiscate my dish on the way to the show (I am well familiar with blue lights at four in the morning).

I gave this recipe to my Cajun and Creole cuisine class last Saturday as an intended side dish to bacon wrapped grilled venison and served with a tomato jam topping. I was so proud of my student that volunteered to make these. They turned out fantastic, and she had never made or tasted grits in her life. I did have to pick on her a little bit, considering she is from Memphis and grits are a Southern staple, I found it hard to believe that she had bypassed grits for over eighteen years. As my class gathered around for our lunch and review, one of the most common comments I heard was, "I don't even like grits, but I like these!"

I hope you give these a try. Feel free to half the recipe or make two smaller dishes and freeze the one you don't eat. They aren't just for breakfast and brunch. Try them as a dinner side dish as we did with the venison.

Happy Cooking,

Shannon

Every now and then, I get caught up on life, or I just get so fed up with being behind that I abandon everything and disappear into the kitchen to prepare a meal. It soothes my brain. I can honestly say I chose the right profession. The study of food is not just the central focus of my career; it is also pure joy and my escape. Sometimes when I escape, I just gather up what I can find and create a recipe that is so delicious that I feel the need to share. Last night, I ran away from papers needing grades, classes needing recipes, and posting midterm grades to my kitchen. I had a flank steak that needed cooking, so I placed it on a large piece of foil, seasoned it, topped it with sliced onions, poured a dark beer over it, and sealed the foil. That got slow cooked at 250 degrees for about 4 hours, and then I went in search of a vegetable. We love broccoli, but it is difficult to get it down Jack's throat without something coating it, so I made a cheesy casserole with some of this and a little of that. I had extra sauce and some chicken and rice hanging around, so I decided that my little broccoli casserole wasn't living up to its full potential. A fantastic, weeknight meal was soon born that is worthy of plate licking and a little TV time, too.

No special tricks today, just some stuff thrown together to make a little culinary magic. If you buy the big bags of frozen chicken breasts, three large or four small will be plenty for this casserole. If you don't buy the big bags of breasts, I strongly suggest that you do. They are convenient and quick, as long as the chicken is destined for shredding or chopping. They are very thin and aren't the best for dishes that call for the breasts being served whole. The bags are zip-top, so if you are cooking for yourself or two, you can just get what you want out and stick the bag back in the freezer for later. This is very handy when you are trying to halve a recipe that calls for an entire package of chicken breasts.

I would share some fun, witty stories, but I have papers to grade. Midterms are already upon us, which means spring break is soon, and I hope you all understand, I am taking the week off. No school, no shows. I am ready for a break! Maybe I will just sleep all week….

I will see you in the morning, and have a great day!

My poor brother. He got a puppy. He named it Daisy. Don't worry; the dog doesn't die at the end of this story. Anyway, he was so excited. It took thirty years of life before he became a proud dog owner. Unfortunately, he called to brag about his new family member to me (his normally loving, sane big sister) on Friday, or as I will fondly remember it "the day my lack of sleep finally caught up with me and made me a demonic being." Last week was so busy, that while trying to balance family, house, kids, school and the show, I sort of forgot to sleep… a lot. Last I counted; I slept 17 hours between Sunday and Saturday, and not at all between Tuesday and Wednesday. That was my fun, up over 24 hour marathon. By Friday, I was grumpy and opinionated. Boy, did I have a great deal to say about that dog. Topher's joy was squashed and I felt terrible about it. The thing is, I knew I was being extremely ugly, I tried to stop and be friendly and happy, but every word still came out wrong. It was quite similar to watching someone drunk try to act sober. You still know they are drunk, but you play along just to see where it is going.

I had to teach a Saturday class, so I really didn't have a chance to make up for the lost rest until Sunday. Eighteen hours later, I was a new woman. I don't care what the doctors say with their sleep studies. I believe that one can catch up on rest. The AMA strongly disagrees. After my comatose state, I got a ton of stuff done. Heck, it is only 5:08 p.m. and I am typing this, so I must be doing something right! Jack and I did a "clutter smack down for charity" and bagged up five contractor bags of stuff that we don't want, need, have outgrown, or have duplicates of. Decluttering is soul cleansing for me. Sleep and neatness went a long way for me today. I even called Topher and apologized for the insomnia demon that he spoke with on Friday, and his only reply was, "I was wondering when it was all going to catch up with you." We traded puppy tales, and I got a positive report on my new little canine niece, Daisy.

Also done for the night is the wonderful cake, Hawaiian Dream Cake, which I am sharing with you in the morning (or this morning, depending on when you read this). It is an adaptation of a cake recipe called "Elvis Cake"… yeah, I refuse to call it that. One, I respect the King, and hat's off to you Tupelo folks for being able to claim his birthplace (I'm from Kosciusko, we will see your Elvis and raise you an Oprah), but I absolutely refuse to call anything I make Elvis _________. Be it pie, cake, grits, or banana bread that fills in that blank, his moniker shall not be the descriptive term. Why? Two words… Fat Elvis. No one wants to remember the not so lean years of the King. We proved that when we had to choose between "young, sexy Elvis" or "old, 'fry me up somethin' with peanut butter in it' Elvis" to don a US postage stamp. Sweet, young thing won by a landslide. Think about it; there is a reason.

One hint about this cake: I originally wanted to use a pineapple cake mix. However, one pineapple upside down cake mixes only fills one, 8 inch pan, and they are expensive. If you have two sitting around, use them, and save the included pineapple and strudel mixture for another time. If not, use a butter or yellow cake mix. Everything else is self explanatory, and you should have no issues. I am now off to plan a lecture and get in bed at a decent hour! See you again Thursday.

Happy Cooking,

Shannon

Once again, I lost a day this week. This time it was to that stinking, no good, rotten computer virus. I knew that I depended heavily on my laptop, but until I lost it from Sunday to Tuesday evening, I had no clue how much I relied upon my electronic brain. I was so mad, I sent an expletive heavy email to the company on the fake "antivirus software" contact us form. I NEVER send things like that. However, you must understand that every facet of my life, other than housework, needs the computer. My recipes, website, blogs, lectures, power points for lectures, grading sheets, cookbook invoices, and not to mention email, it is all stored in Daisy (yes, that is the computer's name). So when I lost all computer function, it was like a big stick was shoved into the gears of my life. I was irate. So, here are some warnings for you guys: one, have a good antivirus software. Two, don't turn off software when it insists it would like to do a long overdue scan. Three, beware of sneaky pop-ups that want you to confirm after closing the window with the X. This one had the "ok" button (which usually confirms closing) and "cancel" backwards. OK meant I didn't want to close the window. I wasn't paying attention to that. That one click did me in. Warning number four: Antivirus Vista 2010 (or XP or Windows 7) is not a product. Stay away, or else be stuck in the Dos prompt trenches of your computer. I was up 24 hours yesterday. No, wait…Tuesday? I woke up at 3:15 on Tuesday morning and went to sleep at the same time Wednesday morning. I lost a big chunk of work and had to get it done.

Due to lack of sleep, I am a little afraid to go to sleep. I can grab five hours if I pass out now. I think I will. Enjoy the Maque Choux. It is actually a recipe I am sharing my Cajun and Creole cooking class that meets this Saturday. It is spicy, but oh so yummy. Goes great with hamburger steaks!

Good night!

Argh! Me ship's been boarded and we are under attack! Man your Battle stations!

Why the pirate speak? I have no clue. I am angry. I was tapping merrily along, preparing for tomorrow's show and class when a window popped up on my computer screen. Looking like a normal Vista "Are you sure?" window, I clicked cancel, and I apparently failed to notice that it was one of those sneaky pop-ups that cancel means open and yes means no. Well, I am paying for it now. The darn thing is infected to the gills. Poor Daisy. That's my computer's name, Daisy. Don't ask why. I just love naming things. My past computers were named Spanky, Boo Boo, and Sam. Prior to Sam, they didn't get names that are worth typing. The dial-up days prompted more language of the seas, but not the fun loving pirate speak, the language associated with inebriated sailors. I hate dial-up. Prior to dial-up, we could talk about my Commodore 64, which proves to be a quite lyrical computer name when sung in the song, "Back to the 80's". It is such a fun tune. Makes me smile every single time I hear it.

So, I can't update my website. Part of Daisy's illness is to warn me about every webpage and its malicious content, even if I click the "accept the danger" button, it refuses. I am hoping to backdoor my blog in, since it feeds through Word, and no webpage is required to open during the process. If I get my virus eradicated before midnight, I will update my site. If not, you can cut and paste the awesome Crab Quiche recipe below. Hopefully this virus will be a nice, bad memory come morning.

Happy Cooking,

Shannon

Crab Quiche

3 eggs, beaten

1/2 C. mayonnaise

2 T. all-purpose flour

1/2 C. milk

1 tsp. Old Bay

1 tsp. garlic powder

1 tsp. hot sauce

1/8 tsp. pepper

2 (6 oz) cans crab meat

1 C. shredded cheddar, divided

1 bunch green onions (sliced)

1 (9 inch) unbaked pie crust

Open cans of crabmeat and drain out the liquid (also do a quick check for any small shell pieces that may have snuck into the can). Once drained, set aside. In a medium mixing bowl, use a whisk to beat together the eggs, mayonnaise, flour, milk, Old Bay, garlic powder, hot sauce, and pepper. Once egg mixture is well blended, fold in crabmeat, 3/4 cup cheddar cheese, and green onions. Spread into unbaked pie shell. Sprinkle remaining cup of cheese over the top. Bake for 40 to 45 minutes, or until the top is golden brown and a knife inserted in the center comes out clean.

Warning: You must use real, whole-fat mayonnaise in this recipe. Light and fat-free versions prevent the filling from setting up. To cut the calories, you may use an equal amount of plain yogurt in place of the mayo and it will still set beautifully.

I lost a day. It was Monday. Mondays and Wednesdays are my catch all days. Errands, laundry, housekeeping, show and lecture preparation all are priorities. If I get enough done on Mondays, Wednesdays are much easier, too. Well, this week's Monday had an extra event planned. Phil had to have a little outpatient surgery. Things were running a little slow that day and though we were told we would be done by ten that morning, we did not escape until four. That pretty much flushed all of my Monday down the toilet. So, I have been behind for days. I don't have a set schedule, but I do loosely plan my week out on Sunday. Loosing Monday erased all of that. I will be honest, being behind unnerves me. I get stressed, and when I get stressed, I get extremely hard to live with. My husband, parents, and former teachers will all attest to this fact. Stressed Shannon is so not fun.

It is no secret that since beginning instructing three days a week at the culinary school back in January, I have a jam packed weekly schedule. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I usually am awake for about twenty hours in a row. Up at three for the show, home at 6:30, plan lecture, pass kids off to Supernanny, leave at 8:30, teach, home at noon, and if I am really lucky, Phil might get home early so a nap will happen sometime between one and five. After five, normal Mommy nighttime duties dominate. It is exhausting at times, but I do enjoy all that I do, and at this point, it works for me.

I have been doing a lot of recipes from my cookbook lately. It really isn't a marketing ploy; I just planned ahead when writing it and included some recipes from collection of those that I felt would make good future shows. This planning has really helped me during stressful moments, when I just can't for the life of me think of something to cook on the show. Today's recipe, Orange Fan Biscuits, is one of those from the cookbook. Facts: super simple, just four ingredients, and incredibly hard to screw up. Even if your fans fall over in the muffin cups, they still look good. When I do sweet treats on the show, I do it for everyone else. I have mentioned many times that I don't really have a sweet tooth. These little biscuits are not very sweet. The end product carries just a hint of citrus, though if you would like them to be sweeter, just make a glaze by mixing up some milk and confectioner's sugar and drizzle over the biscuits while they are still warm from the oven. Only two hints for getting the best results. Work quickly with your biscuits, opening the can as soon as it is pulled from the fridge, and getting started right away. Once they get warm, they tend to flop over in the muffin cups. . As stated earlier, this isn't a big problem. They are still cute. If you feel threatened by a time limit, either get two small cans of biscuits, and keep one in the fridge as you work with the other. Other hint, you don't have to use an electric mixer to beat the butter mixture, you can do it by hand. Just make sure your butter is softened or use tub margarine. These are a great item to take to a brunch gathering or to serve for breakfast with some sausage and sliced fresh fruit.

That's it. I have a few other things to get caught up on, and then off to bed I go. See you all in the morning.

Happy Cooking,

Shannon

"Oh, it was just unbelievable! Can you believe it? Five inches! I don't think we've had this much snow since your brother was two. You remember we stood him up in the snow and down he went, falling face first into it. That was that. He decided he hated it, and Daddy took him back in."

I remembered quite well my first big snow. We lived just outside of Vicksburg, at Flower's Exit. Actually, the exit was some fourteen miles away, accessed only by some treacherous backwoods driving, made only more hazardous by rain, deer, the Bigfoot many family members swear to have seen, oh and a mysterious black panther. All these were child's play compared to snow. I was five then, and I clearly remember that I was light enough to run on top of the deep fluff without sinking like my older, cooler cousins. It was a day of freedom. I could do something that they couldn't do!

You see, those same cousins saw me as an insufferable little brat infused with desperation for playmates. That obvious desperation prompted them to rid themselves of me by sticking me with odd tasks, then having me repeat them over and over. Apparently, they once built a tree house that I was keen on visiting. Entrance was promised if I moved a small log about ten feet to the left, so I did. Family dinners always bring up the story of Shannon and the Log. My lack of recollection makes it all the more entertaining to them. The story goes that they had me moving the log all afternoon, my stubborn little hands lugging it to the new desired location each time, never questioning my cousins. They were my heroes. I wanted to be them. To this day, I have no idea if I was allowed in their tree house. My rather loud family gets so tickled at the vision of my red, sweaty face scrunched up in determination, that the roaring laughter carries us into another hilarious tale from days gone by.

As I listened to my mother ramble on about her snow, I remembered to tell her about last week's blog, "I meant to tell you to get Daddy to print off last Thursday's blog for you to read. I don't know if you remember it happening, but you may. I think Topher was five and we got a terrible ice storm…"

She quickly interrupted, "Oh God, your daddy and I were laughing about that last night. We got so tickled when we talked about you in that plastic tub. Daddy kept saying, 'You know she could have died,' and then we were just rolling thinking of you flying through the Krogh's yard."

I was confused, "So you did read it?"

"No," she replied.

"That is so funny! That is exactly what I wrote about! My journey from hell in that stupid hospital tub!"

"We just couldn't get ourselves to stop laughing once Daddy said he could have killed you. If you hadn't been stopped by that car, you may have slid straight up the Trace to French Camp. We had no idea how fast you would be." She got another chuckle from the memory.

Later on, I thought about them repeatedly laughing at me cheating death. Man, they are sick people … and I am just like them. Because, like it or not, a bony child with a terrible perm going 50 mph in a yellow hospital tub being chased by a demonic death poodle is funny. If that last sentence made absolutely no sense, go to last week's Thursday entry.

Happy Cooking,

Shannon

PS: I wrote nothing about my macaroni and cheese because it is perfect. Follow the recipe and you will be happy. Also, if you put canned tomatoes or hot dogs in it, I will be very displeased.

Several times this chilly winter, our dear, Sunrise meteorologist Jason Dunning, has mentioned snow. I think in all, I have seen eight flakes. Now, we all know it has been cold enough to have some fluffy stuff on the ground, but the skies have yet to cooperate. I am not seeking blizzard conditions, just an inch or two so I can get some nice shots of the kids playing in it. If any of my Delawarean in-laws are reading this, they are probably thinking I am nuts for wanting snow. They have gotten about four feet of snow in the past week. Photos of my nephew, happily crawling through snow tunnels crafted by his Daddy's hands, found their way to my email inbox, and I couldn't bear to show Jack. Four-year olds don't care about geography. Snow to Jack is something everyone deserves, no matter where they live, and I tend to agree.

Some of you remember the ice storms that seemed to come every other winter back in the eighties. One of my family's favorite ice storm stories happened when my brother was about five years old. He had terrible asthma, and wintertime meant he would be in the hospital sooner or later. After each stay, he would come home with the usual load of stuffed animals, cards, and coloring books, all carefully packed by his favorite nurse into what we called "the yellow tub". You know the tub…it is the plastic, all-purpose basin that hospitals give you. Anyway, the winter when he was five and I was nine, we had a terrible ice storm. My dad, Mr. Handyman himself, fashioned a sled out of plywood with two-by-four runners. Those with snow (ice) experience see the problem with that design. Wood doesn't really glide well (especially when you throw your wife and two kids onto it).

Since the wooden sled was an epic failure, Topher and I searched the house for things to use as snow toys. I grabbed one of the yellow hospital tubs, and met my dad at the top of a steep hill at the back of our lot that overlooked the entire neighborhood. I was a skinny, little thing, so I wiggled my scrawny buns down into the plastic tub, and Daddy gave me a big, dramatic push, thinking I wouldn't go three feet. That was an incorrect assumption, to say the least.

Have you ever seen Chevy Chase's Christmas Vacation movie? Think back to Chevy and the sled scene. Now put my head on his body. Yep, that is a pretty accurate visual. Our lot was close to five acres. I crossed that in a flash. Our neighbor's yard also passed in a blur, where I gained the unwanted attention of Angel, their ancient, epileptic poodle; she miraculously found her youth and gave chase. My family ran behind the dog, and they all tried in vain to keep up as I flew into the next lot, screaming my head off as Angel filled with determination to make me her last meal. I tried to stop or even slow my momentum with my hands, but the ice shredded my fingers (why did my mother not make me wear gloves?). My high speed adventure continued down into yet another neighbor's yard, where I was airborne for a while after hitting a large pine root. I landed in their driveway, speeding right along, straight towards the backend of their Buick. The impact must have been loud, but my screams of fear and pain were much louder. The poor neighbors stumbled out of their front door to only to discover me, laying half under their car with the Tub of Pain overturned by my head and a dog known to be more dead than alive, attacking my left elbow. Angel was quickly removed from my person, and my sweet, guilt-ridden father carried me home, trying not to laugh once he knew I was in one piece, and my mother followed along, repeatedly shushing a happy, five-year old that was anxious for his sister to do it again.

Ah, memories. That's what makes snow down here special. Winter weather is so rare that we tend to remember when it happens, and in my case, what happened to us. I have many more ice/snow memories from my childhood: a week without power and Daddy cooking scrambled eggs and Vienna sausages in an old skillet on the grill; some unknown neighbors chaining an upturned, discarded car hood to their truck and inventing what they called "the redneck sleigh ride" (this mortified my mother and she flatly refused my begging and pleading to go ride with strangers on a car hood behind a truck on an icy road that still had occasional traffic—smart lady); I also remember waking up in the middle of the night to sounds of gunfire, only to be reassured that it was just the sound of pine tree limbs snapping under the weight of the ice (which now that I think of it, isn't reassuring at all). I want Jack to have snow memories. Not necessarily the ice ones, but fun, winter memories so that he can dial up his brother when they are both in their thirties and say, "Oh my God, Wyatt, do you remember that winter when…"

Since I have had snow and memories on the brain, I craved something warm and homey to eat. I am opting to share a recipe that I did include in my cookbook, but I have not presented on the show before now. Italian Sausage and White Bean Soup is a recipe from my mother that originated with her mother, my Memama. It isn't fancy, it isn't difficult, and there are no special tricks, but it is really good, and if by chance, we do wake up to a winter wonderland sometime soon, it is the perfect thing to eat while on the couch, under a warm blanket, spending time with the family (that is until they drive you crazy and you can't wait for the snow to melt). J

Happy Cooking!

Shannon

This coming Sunday is Valentine's Day. Yes… already!

Wasn't Christmas last week?? Holiday to holiday, the calendar flips on, whether we are ready or not. I guess it seems to have arrived so quickly because I lost a few weeks of my life to my eye surgery and the plague running through the house. Now that we are all healthy, I feel like Rip Van Winkle, waking up but feeling a little confused about the sudden passage of time. So, like it or not, the big day of love will be here in less than a week and food will probably come into play. For me, only one thing comes to mind when I think of the holiday in culinary terms…CHOCOLATE! This works out perfect, as I have been promising a chocolate day to the studio guys since before I was out for a week.

I was trying to think of something chocolaty that anyone could make (actually, when thinking of the term "anyone" I was really thinking of men). Even if you order or go out to eat, how nice would it be to surprise your significant other with a decadent dessert? Now, for demonstration, let's say you are married. Rule one: if you are going to surprise your wife by cooking anything, do not leave your dirty cooking dishes in the sink to wash later. That negates the surprise and will probably tick her off, especially if you are like the majority of men and somehow use every pot, pan and bowl in the kitchen when cooking. Now that I think about it, y'all probably do that on purpose. Is it one of those secret man "if I do this bad enough, she will never ask me to do it again" things? I know about those things. I've got your number, mister. I know you really do know the difference between hand towels and pillowcases. You just hate doing laundry.

Okay, pay attention… this cake requires one mixing bowl, one Bundt pan, one two-cup measuring cup, one fork, and one rubber spatula (or mixing spoon). Assuming you are using a stand mixer with a paddle attachment that will be 6 items (counting the paddle) you will have to wash. Six items aren't even a full dishwasher load. If you are wondering about the two-cup measuring cup, since everything is thrown in the mixing bowl at once, you can use one cup to measure everything, if you do it in this order: water, oil, eggs (beat with fork in the cup), and then sour cream. Don' worry about measuring the chocolate chips. Just throw the whole bag in. It contains roughly two cups. So, Rule Two: If you are using more than a dishwasher load of dishes to make this cake, you are doing it wrong (possibly on purpose).

Now go plan something special to sweep her off her feet!

Happy Cooking,

Shannon

Quick hit this morning. I have been consoling a four year old for the past thirty minutes, and I am running behind schedule. I don't know how it happened, but he is suddenly scared of the dark. We found a leftover glow stick from Halloween, told him we sprayed it with "bravery spray" that Daddy wears everyday to work, and that did the trick for tonight. I'm sure my parenting patience and creativity will be tested again tomorrow, but for now, I have to wrap up today, because my tomorrow is less than five hours away.

Today, I thought I would make a main dish that would feed a crowd. With Super Bowl weekend upon us, I was tempted to do finger foods, but some people may do Super Bowl parties like we do… with filling entrees and desserts. Dips and chips are nice, but with all the performances and commercials, the game lasts so long that those few Ruffles and French onion dip aren't going to take your guests all the way to the end of the fourth quarter. My Mexican lasagna is very filling, and it has a delicious, spicy kick. To cut down on the heat, use a mild cheese queso dip (this is found by the chips). My favorite is the Pace brand, but the others are tasty, too. For those that like a little less kick, have some fresh diced tomatoes, guacamole, and sour cream available as toppings. These will help bring the heat down. One other selling point to this delicious dish is that you can make it a day or two ahead of time, bake it off, cool, cover and chill. Just reheat it at 250 degrees until bubbling, and serve.

Sorry this is so short. I promise, nothing profound has happened in my life since you saw me through the screen on Tuesday. Really, I didn't even get out of my jammie pants today, and I thoroughly enjoyed it!

Happy Cooking, Enjoy the Game, and Go Saints!

Shannon