Steak and Garlic Mashed Potatoes

It's hard coming up with dishes for dinner. There's so many choices out there, and when you're cooking for more than one person sometimes you don't exactly agree on the same thing.

That happens more often than not in this house.

Today, however, we managed to mutually decide on steak and mashed potatoes. Still not content with eating the exact SAME steak (I like mine with a bone, and somewhat fatty; she loves hers chopped up and devoid of any pants tightening globs) I went to the market and bought the necessary ingredients for my newest masterpiece.

And then I began my next step to become the King of Cooking.

I began the mashed potatoes first. Now, I've noticed I never exactly put the recipe for my meals, mainly because...well, who cares. Go on Google and look up garlic mashed potatoes recipes, I guarantee you that you'll find one that tickles your fancy. If you don't, and you can't find ANYTHING that tickles you whatsoever...well, you internet incorrectly. I'm pretty sure there's food porn out there...you freak.

Ahem, so I peeled my taters, which I've always found to be such a pain in the ass. All of those peels, and sometimes they'll find their way outside of the trash can, where I have to contend with a tiny puppy who sucks  up anything in his direct puppy vision.

Puppy.

Once they were peeled, I got the head of garlic out and took off the...I don't know what you call it, the garlic clothes. I got that bitch naked and then smooshed her up with my hard knife. And the garlic loved it. I'm probably not going to call it back though.

I emptied them into a pot of water and let it boil. It took a while, but eventually the potatoes softened and I was able to mush it all up.

Look at that whore garlic, swimming around with

the potatoes.

I also boiled some milk for extra creaminess:

Milk, pre-boiled. It pretty much looks the same

boiled, too.

And cream cheese for some much needed thickness:

I wonder if you can get sued for this.

I've also noticed that cheese outside of the package always looks weird. Probably because I don't like cheese that much.

Look at this ugly bastard. It's so tasty.

Along with 6 tablespoons of butter, and a dash of salt and rosemary, I mashed it all up and then mixed it to a nice puree. 

Look at them all, just waiting to get destroyed.

Mashed potatoes: Done.

Not the best picture, but goddamn it's beautiful.

Now, earlier in the day I marinated my steaks with a nice herb/garlic combo, and also some ground pepper to rub into the meat. I know how to marinate some goddamn meat.

Oh, I wasn't kidding.

Not by a long shot.

I placed them both into their selected pans and began to fry them up. I also practiced up on my flipping skills, which you will be able to see here. I'm seriously upping my talent here.

These two bastards are coming out like fried 

gold.

Luckily, steak doesn't take that long to cook, so before I knew it...dinner was ready.

UHHHHH IT WAS SO DELICIOUS

And there you have it. One step closer to being a Kingly Chef.

Steak/Chicken Pesto

It's been a while. Sorry. For a long time, I didn't cook anything worthwhile, but recently a man came to visit me.

A magician, if you will.

This magician/ master chef worked wonders with food, doing things I've never seen outside of TV. Saute, grilling, slicing and dicing - you name it, it was done. The man didn't speak English, but he spoke to me THROUGH COOKING.

I'll let that sink in for a moment.

Ready? Okay, so through viewing his methods, I believe that some of his powers rubbed off on me like some sort of steak marinade, and the juices are going to linger for quite some time.

With that being said...here we go:

The first part of my pesto experience was, naturally, making the sauce itself. I had gone to the market and bought basil, but that was such an effort because they didn't have it fresh. They had bunches of parsley, spinach, even arugula. Who even the hell uses arugula? Isn't that some ancient Greek emperor anyway? Why would they even name a vegetable after him? Did he make amazing Greek pesto and lamb pasta whilst watching slaves being eaten by lions?

So many questions.

Anyway, I had to buy the basil in these little packages, and after some mumbling and grumbling I finished the rest of my shopping. Oh yes, I also bought shaving cream and now I'm stoked to shave tomorrow.

I get home and begin: 2 cups of basil leaves, packed tightly because I make my shit homemade. I toss it into the blender, along with 1/2 a cup of extra virgin olive oil, because the last thing I want is my olive oil being some kind of cheap whore.

Ah yes, coming together nicely...

Then comes the blending. I add some chopped up garlic to give the pesto the awesome power of GAAAAAHLICCCK, and then proceed to liquefy the fuck out of that shit.

I've also noticed that the garlic shaped like New Jersey. Represent.

It blended so smoothly.

Uhhh, yeah...that looks smooth...

Oh. Actually, it looks kind of like Slimer's asshole.

After making the sauce, I proceed to the cooking of the meats. My wife requested steak, since she's not been a fan of chicken lately. Being the awesome husband that I am (and the fact that I wanted to level grind my cooking skills), I obliged and began the seasonings. 

The first was the steak. I used a simple seasoning of Adobo (because I'm like 18 parts hispanic), pepper, and red wine vinegar. I rubbed it in like I owned a massage parlor, then left it in the fridge as I prepared the chicken. 

This stuff makes for some crazy ass flavor.

With the chicken, I went another route: I sprinkled some lemon juice on it and then waited. And waited. Once I got tired of that shit, I placed some oil in two saute pans and got to work. 

Doesn't that just look scrumptious?

I decided to cook the chicken first. As the oil heated, I dripped red wine vinegar onto the pan, then browned some garlic. I then placed the chicken and began mixing it all up. By the way, I should note that I've at level 22 in cooking: I've acquired the skill of flipping meat in a pan with ease! Nothing makes you feel more like a chef boss, I swear.

I moved to the steak. I browned some garlic in the pan and then dropped the delicious meat in it, then dousing it all with some soy sauce. You could already taste the deliciousness. 

Here's both of them. Guess which is which!

After constant turning and shaking, the meats were finished. As I was doing all of this, mind you, I already had the pasta water at a boil. It was all coming together so nicely.

Spoiler alert: This is the chicken.

This is the steak.

While the pasta softened, I sat and waited patiently. For about a minute.

For what it's worth, I was fucking STARVING.

I tested the pasta after some time.

Tender. It was time to go.

I drained the pot, leaving just a bit of pasta water for the pesto to make it a bit creamier. It was looking so great, and my mouth was watering. I couldn't wait any longer, and unlatched the blender to pour the pesto and finalize my newest dish!

Except we just got a new blender, and it's my first time using it. The blender came off, all right, but I unlatched the wrong part.

Pesto everywhere. 

As I destroyed the ears of innocent children with a barrage of cusses and mindless threats, I managed to salvage just a bit for one plate.

A moment of silence for its pesto brethren. Also,

I could have taken a better picture.

With no other options, and a big mess to clean up, I opted for some marinara sauce, heated it up quickly, and then poured it onto my chicken pasta. I'm not exactly sure what you'd call that dish...isn't it chicken piccata? It's that. Anyway, I managed two dishes rather than the one I set out to cook initially.

Yup. Piccata.

This...wasn't exactly a success. Like an 85%. I promise my next dish will come out better, but holy shit - these two dishes were DELICIOUS. 

Third Recipe: Yellow rice mixed with beans, steak, and spicy potatoes

I was very excited about making this dish. Very

You have no idea. Well actually, you just might. COME WITH ME ON THIS JOURNEY.

So I had to thaw the steak, which I did earlier in the day. Once I got home, that junk was ready to go!

This is seriously the most pleasing picture I could take.

 I chopped those suckers up before seasoning them with a mixture of soy sauce, red wine vinegar, adobo, garlic, and pepper. This was going to be the best steak you've ever eaten. And you don't even get to eat it. Next, I cut up all of the potatoes,

The stains on side of the fridge were from the 

potatoes trying to escape.

and put them in a bowl. Now, this recipe called for olive oil and salt, but I was like eff that: I'm making these potatoes SPICIER THAN YOUR MOM. I found my spicy seasoning and went to town on these little potato quarters. I wasn't about to let them win.Once the seasoning was sprinkled, I had to shake the bowl up so every potato was covered. Oh, and did I have fun with that.

So much fun the picture got blurry!

FUN BEING HAD!

Them potatoes was shook.

The next step was boiling the rice - my worst enemy. 

 Don't let its appearance fool you - it's a dick.

I was determined to get it right this time, come hell or high water...what the hell does that even mean, anyway? Either we go to hell or drown? What if we didn't repent our sins...doesn't that mean we'd drown and then go to hell anyw- you know what, who cares.

I measured the water and put it into the pot, letting it get to a boil. 

 Yeah, that's uh...that's water getting to a boil.

Once that happened I slammed some garlic cloves and sazon into it to turn that water into a reddish liquid of flavor and love. LOVE.

Above: Flavor and LOVE.

At this point the water really began to boil, so I added the rice and a can of beans, let it boil just a bit longer, then lowered the heat and went on my merry way.

With everything going accordingly, I preheated the oven for the spuds.

The right temperature to PARTY.

 

As soon as the oven beeped, I dropped those bad bastards onto a tray and forgot about them for about 30 minutes. The last piece of the puzzle was up: cooking the steak.

By now, the steak was deliciously marinated and ready to be heated to a respectable temperature for devouring. I heated up a big pan with some oil and got straight to cooking. 

This is always my favorite part~

The steak always cooks quickly, so it was done in a matter of minutes. As this was all coming together, I should note that I was feeling rather BOSS about this whole event. It was smelling great in the house, I felt like a pretty housewife waiting for their husband to get home (no lie, I felt like this. whatever man, I can cook.), and I figured "Hey, since I'm waiting...what the hell, lemme take a shot of some Hennessy and be a straight up man right now".

I got the bottle from our little rickety liquor cupboard and got a glass, filled it to an appropriate level (i.e. not enough to get me drunk) and down the sucker. 

I immediately regretted that decision.

The devil.

I thought I might get sick, but the feeling never came over me. In its place, however, was shame. At this moment I did realize that I could never be an alcoholic, but I also realized that I don't like hard liquor. Like, at all. I'll stick to my cranberry vodkas, thank you very much...

Okay, so the finale. I checked on the rice to make sure it was coming out well.

It looks like the sultan of Agrabah.

Lookin' pretty good, I thought. Last on the list: the potatoes. I open the oven door...

Ah, yeah- that's nice.

Everything's done! I place it all onto a plate and decide to marvel in its glory:

OVERHEAD SHOT OF TASTINESS!

 

Everything came out swimmingly. Rice was still too soft, but it was great. At least I know that, when I'm older, I'll be able to gum that shit down. That is what we call a perk.

Second Recipe: breaded chicken, rice, and beans

Chicken, rice, and beans - The staple of many a hispanic diet. I happen to be of two different descents: Puerto Rican and Cuban. A Pu-cub-erican, if you will. I LOVE chicken, rice, and beans. If anyone ever questioned me about being hispanic, I would tell them I adore this dish and be exempt from whatever judgment I was about to receive.

That being said, I decided to do my own take on the dish. Nothing too fancy- I opted to bread the chicken before frying it up. So, without further ado...let's get on this boat.

Firstly, the chicken: As I was starting this dish, I thought to myself "Hans (yeaaaah, you remember ;D), you ALWAYS season the chicken before cooking it. Same seasonings, over and over...you're a boring individual."

I said to my inner dialogue "Hey, shut up. You're INSIDE me, and I don't see you attempting any big changes. You suck just as much."

As I sat there with a quiet debate going on through my head...and possibly looking like a creeper...a solution came to me.

Chop up that goddamned chicken and add an egg to that bitch. Then breadcrumb the hell out of it until it looks like bleached brains.

Yeah, that's bleached brains, all right.

I mean honestly, this stuff was lookin' kinda gross.

Obligatory Myspace photo! People still use that network, right?

I cleared the stove next, since I always seem to have crap cluttered on it.

 Yeah, I'm talking about you, tea kettle. Where do you get off?

Well, with the chicken ready and raring to go I moved onto the next step: Boiling the water for rice. 

 

Oh, I wasn't kidding. We're taking pics of EVERYTHING tonight.

Rice and  I have a problem with each other: I wanna cook it to perfection, and then eat it, and rice is a goddamn jerk. Every time I attempt to make rice, it either comes out too soft and mushy, like porridge, or hard and practically raw, like a dead dinosaur's pelvic bone. I'm not even sure about that simile and what it means, but I'm going with it. I was determined to get it to work tonight, however.

So, with the water being boiled, the rice settled in at the appropriate moment, I move onto making the beans. I heat the oil in another pot:

 Real artsy picture, right here. Real artsy.

and pull out the can of beans and tomato sauce.

GOYA! BANDITOOOOOO!

If I'm ever questioned yet again about my hispanic heritage, all I need do is pull out a can of this shit. They may just give me their prettiest virgin. I also took a pic of the tomato sauce:

I wasn't kidding. Pics of EVERYTHING.

I pop all of that shit into the pot and let it do what it does best: become delicious. With everything going as planned, I feel like a mah-fuggin' boss cooking this meal. However, as the chicken fries, I notice that the breadcrumbs aren't really...well, pronounced as I thought they'd be.

It's still pale, like bleached brains. Slightly more edible, however.

Slightly nervous, I give it a taste. not so bad, but it's kinda...eggy. I take out some Adobo (no picture of this, unfortunately; I didn't want to scare everyone with all of these hispanic shenanigans going on.) and sprinkle it adequately about the chicken.

Another taste. Amazing.

Everything is finally how I want it, albeit the chicken didn't brown as nicely as I wanted it to. The meal finishes rather quickly:

Admit it: You would sell a child for this meal.

It tasted great! I was proud of myself~ My only complaint would be that the rice was just a slightly bit hard; nothing to break dishes over, but I can feel my rice making powers getting stronger. I will get there...soon...

Oh yeah, and throughout this whole meal making process I was accosted by a tiny beast:

There is actually a shank inside that ice cream bar.

First recipe: Manicotti

Manicotti, or MAN-EHHH-GOT! as my Italian American friend Frank would say, didn't seem like it would be a hard meal to make. I checked the box for the recipe and I figured "What the hell, I'll probably do a better job than I think".

So away with the box, and the recipe along with it. IT'S GO TIME.

So things start out simple enough: Make the sauce, boil the noodles, preheat the oven; you know, the damn basics. I zoom through it because, well...it's pasta. If you can't make pasta then I'm sure nobody's ever loved you. My sauce, by the way-

-is the greatest sauce ever. It comes from the finest jar of pasta sauce you'll ever find at a supermarket. I remember making my own sauce once: quite delicious, but it took so long I fell asleep while eating. Don't ever do that; you'll get it all over your clothes. Or eat naked, whatever's easier.

SO! everything seems to be coming together nicely when I realize...I have no idea how to put filling into the manicotti noodles.

Shit just got real.

I made an attempt to go to the trash can to retrieve the now soiled and germ covered pasta box with the recipe on the back, but I pull myself together. "No, Hans!" I shout to myself in my head.

I uh, I sometimes call myself Hans.

"Steel yourself, sir! You came into this believing in yourself-don't give up hope!"

Like a mental slap across the face, I tighten my apron, I gather my tools, and I say with my chest "I shall prevail!"

Mind you, I still don't know how to effin' fill these noodles. Also, I dropped some on the floor.

Yeah, some of that happened.

No matter: A few casualties in a war I know in MY HEART I'm going to win. After the noodles boil, I drain them in the colander and prepare to do battle with their soft, noodle-y forms. I had to bring in reinforcements, however:

This is Yosef. He's seen a few fights in his time, but never have I encountered a braver man than he.

This is his wife, Agnes. I originally thought it was a boy assistant, and that the old man, well...well he had some questions that needed to be answered. It was by chance that I found out this was a woman...and by god, she is ugly.

Anyhoo, I filled the manicotti as best as I could, braving scalding meat sauce, the dangerous noodle nemesis I created, and an oven that was waiting for its next doomed entrant. When all was said and done, I managed to make these:

These have got to be the ugliest manicotti ever made. And I've been to some shitty italian restaurants.

Also, Agnes fell. I like to think that she got drunk on some cooking wine and stumbled into the corner of the kitchen, with Yosef shaking his head and cursing the direction his life went down. Because they have problems, you see.

How the hell did these two noodles get into the corner like that? It looks like they tried to make a break for it, the smug italian vagabonds...

30 minutes later, the meal was done. I hoped that, at the very least, the manicotti would look somewhat presentable and hopefully delicious.

Meh, good enough. Maybe I HAVE seen shittier manicotti, because these...well, they're not any better, but they were damned delicious.

Oh, and these were the dishes I had to do afterward. I don't even get paid for this crap.