UnRecipe: Meatloaf is the New Ham (p.s. this title makes no damn sense)

My return to blogging after a short birthday/new dog break is, of course, nonsensical. As it should be. About as nonsensical as a freakin' hailstorm in May. We had one of those last week, and I was bundled up in two layers of sweats and freezing my buns off. Which makes something as cozy as meatloaf and roasted root veggies so fitting. Even though it's nearly Memorial Day weekend.

Meatloaf inspired by ham. JUST GO WITH IT. - Photo by Wasabi Prime

UnRecipe: There is Method to My Pizza Madness

Pizza seems like one of the simplest things to make, and yet it's always something we go out to have, or get delivered to our homes. Why is that?! I feel like it's a bit to do with the crust, and how most home ovens just don't have the Hulk Smash Strength to get to the blazing hot temperatures of a professional pizza oven. So what can we do to give our home ovens a boost? A pizza stone is handy, but what if you don't have one? My new pizza crust-making partner in crime is the silicone mat, aka SilPat. 

Silicone isn't just for fake boobs - it's great for pizza-making! - Photo by  Wasabi Prime

UnRecipe: Deck the Halls with Leftover (Meat)Balls

One of the best thing about the holidays, from Thanksgiving through New Years is the food, food, FOOD! It's everywhere. The roasted turkey, the whole ham, crown roasts of pork or lamb, prime rib, feasts of several fishes -- it's no wonder we promise ourselves diet resolutions in the new year from the ample feasting that goes for a steady two months. But even when our well-intentioned resolutions fade, we're all left with the same thing: leftovers. Don't roll your eyes and groan -- leftovers are a wonderful, beautiful thing. They are brand-spankin' new meals waiting to happen!

Christmas dinner, all rolled up into a bite-sized piece! - Photo by Wasabi Prime

When I say "leftovers," I'm not talking about the good leftovers, the marvelous whole pieces of ham and turkey that can get layered into Dagwood Bumstead-sized sandwiches, I'm talking about the dribs and drabs of this and that, stuff that most would probably just throw out. Miscellany that fits the smallest of your tupperware containers. Barely a full meal, just a buffet of small bites. It's the most maddening of leftovers -- you hate to waste food, but what do you do with such a shotgun blast of random crap?? I can credit my father for being a compulsive food/leftover hoarder -- he never lets a thing go to waste, even to my mother's irritation for finding a container with barely a bite of food being kept for some rainy day. Thanks to him, I was introduced to croquettes -- traditionally a French fritter made with potato and other chopped vegetables and meats, but it's been co-opted by many cultures who all face the universal quandry of leftover food and refuse to give in to waste. After only scraps of a holiday meal remained, my dad would refuse to throw it all out and my mom would make what could only be described as Leftover Spam -- chopped up bits of everything mixed together, bound with egg, battered and fried. Croquettes are just a prettier, Frenchier way of saying: crap we don't know what to do with, so we make a fritter out of it. See, everything sounds better in French.

Holiday ham and the many secondhand meals it provides - Photos by Wasabi Prime

I took a cue from Wasabi Dad's post-holiday meal game plan and made a couple of batches of croquettes from our sizeable supply of leftovers. We had a banner season of festive meals: Christmas Eve I cooked a whole ham, basting this hoggy mountain of meat with a whiskey honey glaze, serving it alongside a creamy cauliflower gratin. Don't ask why, but the ham wound up looking like a meaty rosebud when it cooked. Christmas Dinner, I cooked my first duck (I know, weird that I'd never cooked waterfowl before, but there's a first time for everything). Served alongside the duck were potatoes that were roasted in the fat that came off the duck as it cooked, and a dressing made with quinoa, walnuts and dried fruit. The Mister loves cranberry sauce, so even though it wasn't Thanksgiving, I made another batch of  it to go with the ham and duck. Leftover ham is good for every meal -- it got whittled down with several breakfasts, and I was inspired by a friend's "French" toast stamp and made ham and cheese paninis in our waffle iron for several mornings. I don't have a sandwich press, but I have to say, a waffle iron makes for a great ghetto panini press, as long as you have thick slices of bread.

Falafel that inspired Christmas duck croquettes with jam a week later. - Photos by Wasabi Prime

But back to the B-Team Leftovers, as in, a few handfuls of quinoa dressing, scraps of duck meat and mostly duck skin... and more quinoa. I know -- what's with the quinoa? It's been my new favorite side dish and it ends up being a great component for croquettes or, in an earlier meal of spherical leftovers, falafel. I mashed drained/rinsed chickpeas into a paste, added finely minced garlic and parsley, and leftover plain quinoa. One egg was mixed in to help bind, and I throw in a little cornmeal, just to help soak up any excess moisture. They're formed into little balls and pan-fried. I made a batch of these that stretched scraps into a couple of meals. They were such a nice treat, that idea stuck with me through Christmas when I made croquettes with finely minced duck, the dried fruit/quinoa mix, and gave each little leftover ball a cheesy center of melty havarti.

A feast of beasts... and yes, Indy got to sample some of the duck and ham - Photos by Wasabi Prime

The duck croquettes truly made leftovers magical. These little spheres were like something a wizard made, they were so good. The duck meat was from random scraps and the little wings, which is more skin than meat, really. I removed the bone and minced everything super-fine. I put the bits into a hot skillet to further render the fat and make crispy whatever was there, skin and all -- I wanted crunch, not rubbery, overly fatty bits. I put that crisped duck into the leftover quinoa dressing, which had an egg added to help bind. I formed balls around small bite sized pieces of havarti cheese. The croquettes were still sticky, so I rolled them in some breadcrumbs before frying them up in the same skillet that had the duck fat because... well why wouldn't you? The cheesy center got melty from the heat, the outer crumb coating made a strong enough shell to keep the center from oozing out. The croquettes were perfectly browned, savory bites, but with a little sweetness from the dried fruit. Eating them with a berry jam or the cranberry sauce was a perfect pairing -- duck goes nicely with fruit. It was one of those things where you create the dish in your mind, it comes together well during execution phase, and it tastes exactly as how you anticipated. In that sense, leftovers are perfection.

Never throw out leftovers - there's still good meals to be had! - Photos by Wasabi Prime

Literally nothing went to waste over the holidays, which is great -- I hate when food goes to waste. Christmas Eve's ham bone was made into Portuguese bean soup for New Year's Eve and the duck croquettes went well with salads, which were a welcome change from all the super-rich food. It was nice to skip going to the grocery store and fret about what to cook. And the benefit of playing with one's food yields new meals and keeps the boredom away at the thought of having dreaded leftovers again. So cheers to recycled holiday food!

Mixed Plate: You Can Be My Wingman on Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is all about remembrance, family -- tradition. Which is exactly why we take this time honored holiday and take it completely off the rails with four gallons of peanut oil, thirty pounds of chicken wings, a whole ham, a turducken, multiple side dishes, and even a forgotten pumpkin cheesecake. The holiday of our Pilgrim forefathers may have come and gone, but leftover hot wings remains a constant.

Who needs a turkey when you've got a small child's weight in chicken wings? - Photo by Wasabi Prime

Refugee Thanksgiving is all about being nontraditional, since it's populated with all the people who Just Said No to facing family dysfunction and chaos, at least for a few more weeks until Christmas comes along. This was also an opportunity to carry out one of my hair-brained ideas, which was to have a Thanksgiving dinner of mostly chicken wings. Why? Because this is America, dammit, and we're all about enthusiasm and poorly conceived notions. Why thirty-freaking pounds of chicken wings? Because we were looking at a guest list of possibly a dozen, and I didn't realize good folks would bring a whole ham and turducken, along with the promised side dishes, and we basically wound up with an F-ton of food. Not that it's such a terrible thing, as Thanksgiving is a holiday that's all about food excess and chugging the Pepto after that third slice of pie.

It started out with traditional intentions... - Photos by Wasabi Prime

When hosting any big holiday meal, it's like disaster preparedness for the Zombie Apocalypse. Assume something will go wrong, so be prepared. For as much night-before Thanksgiving prepping people fret over, I say... the hell with all that. I made orange-cranberry sauce, pumpkin cheesecake, a sweet potato gratin and a cornbread stuffing days before Zero Dark Thirty Turkeyday. The goal should be to cook as little as possible the day-of, since you assume your oven will be occupied with a large bird, but in our case, our oven cooked some dishes earlier in the day and then became a big food warmer for all the batches of wings and side dishes waiting to be served. I knew the frying of many pounds of chicken wings would be an epic time consumer, as the Mister can fully attest to, as he was Frymaster Flash in the backyard with all the other dudes until the sun went down. And I was stuck in the kitchen draining the 10 freezer bags full of buttermilk-soaked chicken wings, then tossing them around in a paper bag full of seasoned flour in small batches. My arms got a chicken wing workout that day/evening, to be sure. I can see why people fry a single turkey for Thanksgiving because it's one large beast in a boiling pot of oil, not dozens of small batches of smaller bird parts. I won't say "never again" to a chicken wing feast, just not thirty pounds' worth.

There is no Dana, only Zuul. And Chicken Wings. - Photos by Wasabi Prime

It's a day meant for appreciation and I was thankful for a lot of things. I was thankful for friends who brought tasty side dishes, as well as alternative main courses, since the wings were coming out in small batches. And I was definitely thankful for Brock, as he was out there like a boss, frying up chicken parts until he could fry no more. It basically became Dudes In the Backyard and Girls in the Kitchen, which I think most parties wind up this way. Fellas with beer, circling a fire, or in this case, a vat of bubbling peanut oil; ladies in the kitchen, drinking wine and gossiping. All was right with the world.

Frymaster Flash, Mister Brock - Photos by Wasabi Prime

The chicken wings were properly dressed, as any holiday bird should be. There were plain wings, with the basic salt and pepper from the seasoned flour, and there were also buffalo wings and a sweet-chili Asian glaze. Buffalo wings are easy enough -- the handy dandy giant bottle of Frank's Hot Sauce simmered low with melted butter makes for an easy wing-saucing. The Asian chili glaze was a couple of cups of the sweet chili sauce you use on eggrolls, usually at the Asian grocery store in the Thai section of sauces. That, plus extra honey and melted butter equaled sweet-chili Asian chicken wings. Easy-peasy. And you don't need pounds of chicken to enjoy it.

Keep Calm and Have a Ham - Photo by Wasabi Prime

I think there should be a mandate, regardless of what you're making for a big holiday meal where it's buffet style and people may be coming and going at different times: Have a Ham. Thank heavens friends brought the divine swine. It's a meat that's as good warm as it is room temperature. No little bones to pick through and easy to slice. And it just tastes like the holidays. We only sawed through maybe a quarter of it, but it made for happy leftovers. And yes, you heard right, there was a turducken. Other friends generously brought this mystical chimera meat loaf of a duck, stuffed in a chicken, stuffed in a turkey. Typically it's one of those catalog order specialty items, and a lot of places express mail it pre-cooked for obvious health concerns. But Whole Foods was selling this beast-feast fresh and we had this whole pot of peanut oil saying, "Turducken, you complete me." The layers of meat are delicious together, that's without question. But frying a turducken proved tricky. It's like an event horizon made of meat. So dense, so compounded by the laws of science and duck fat, the outside gets crispety-crunchety, but the inside is like a tender core of r-a-w. Because food poisoning was not on the menu that night, we had to finish the turducken in the oven, wrapped in foil. Not a failed food experiment by any means, appetites were appeased and no one went to the hospital. Thanksgiving Win!

Thanksgiving is all about eating and NOT STOPPING. - Photos by Wasabi Prime

Sides, glorious sides. I think that's what I love best about Thanksgiving. We had a friend's famous stuffing made with wonderful Grand Central bread. Brussels sprouts were a champ, as we had two combinations with bacon, giving this once-despised vegetable more delicious street cred. Various snacks, cured meats and pickles were scattered around the tables, for those moments where you insist you can't have another bite... but maybe just one olive... and another slice of prosciutto...

Making the holidays merry with booze and inappropriate movies - Photos by Wasabi Prime

To make sure we didn't get too stuck on tradition, people gathered around the 21st Century fireplace, aka the television, and Brock put on a double feature of the holiday classics: Team America and Supertroopers. Because we are classy lads and lasses. Disturbing live-action raunchy puppets and the best cop farce since Police Academy -- this is how we roll. Although to be honest, I was hanging out in the kitchen getting my drank on with one of the many bottles of wine we had, and finally having a plate of food. I tend to eat last, because I can't bring myself to take a bite of anything until all the guests have been served and stuffed stupid with food. It's the only thing Martha Stewart would have approved of from this bacchanalian tradition abomination. It was too big of a gathering to all sit at the table, and I tend to prefer casual/lazy parties where people can sit where they like and there's multiple huddles of conversation all over the house.

No Dessert Left Behind (forgotten momentarily, perhaps) - Photos by Wasabi Prime

Another unheeded tradition was completely unintentional -- I didn't bring out the pumpkin cheesecake. Fail! Not that there wasn't dessert, as friends brought a wonderful eggnog bundt cake, which was the best way to have eggnog, like, ever. I'm not a big eggnog drinker, it's overwhelming, but flavoring a cake is brilliant. Eggnog is already a couple of cups' worth of flour away from being cake batter, so why not? Despite roasting pumpkins, making a gingersnap crust and blending the filling with a mixture of cream cheese and chevre, I don't think the meal suffered from one less landmass of calories, and the group was more of a meat-protein type of crowd. Not to say the cheesecake went to waste. There's something to be said for having such a lovely dessert as part of the Leftover Brigade.

Another Thanksgiving bites the dust... now, onwards and upwards, Christmas and New Years! - Photos by Wasabi Prime

We're still letting the dust settle from this Thanksgiving. While the poundage of chicken parts seem ridiculous, you'd be surprised how much a group can consume, plus plenty of leftovers to be taken home by guests. By this weekend, our own lion's share of leftovers will likely be gone, and I'll be back to cooking less epic meals. The light from the inside of our fridge will no longer be blotted out with food, things will return to normal and I'm sure I'll come up with another ridiculous idea for the next celebratory meal, because that's what the holidays are for.

UnRecipe: Pardon Moi, Monsieur

For all the Tastespotting/FoodGawker food porn bloggery perfection, cooking is a constantly evolving experiment. Nothing ever comes out perfect on the first try, there's always push and pull when you want to try something new, even if it's something simple. So, to heck with perfection, I wanted to share a work-in-progress dish I was playing around with: a Croque Monsieur casserole. Oh, and by the way, all those well-intentioned resolutions about eating healthy? Throw 'em out the window -- much like this dish, nobody's perfect.

Resolutions are for suckers! Wasabi's answer to clean, healthy living - Photo by Wasabi Prime

Croque Monsieur Casserole?? You're thinking, What-the-whaaaaat?! And also, Pass the Lipitor, this looks like a widowmaker. This was a large-scale attempt at putting the classic French comfort dish through the Brunch Casserole-ification Machine. Not unlike the cardboard box Transmogrifier that Calvin and Hobbes would use. When I go out to brunch, a Croque Monsieur is like the perfect meal -- slices of ham, sandwiched between slices of cheese and thick bread, grilled to crispness, topped with more cheese and a bechamel sauce, finished off under a broiler to make the melty top all crispy and caramelized. Heaven, right? There are variations of this, you can have the Madame variation with an egg, I've seen different meats used -- it was never a fancy, fussy dish, meant to be made with strict adherence to a recipe. Like a lot of comfort favorites, it was an inexpensive meal meant to use pantry staples and welcome interpretation. And interpret I did!

The many stages of a casserole-in-progress - Photos by Wasabi Prime

All the ingredients for a classic Croque Monsieur are breakfast-friendly and I thought it could translate into a casserole form, almost like a savory bread pudding, topped with a creamy sauce. I got a loaf of bread and sliced it down. I lightly toasted the slices to remove the moisture, but I think if I make this again, I'll leave it soft and spongey. I wanted it to really soak up an egg custard and drying the bread out means it needs a little extra time to drink up the liquid. I layered the slices in a casserole dish, slipping chunks of ham between the slices. When I make this again, I'll use thin slices of ham and maybe some turkey as well. The chunks are great, but I wanted even layering of meat between the slices and the chunk ham wasn't providing that consistently meaty bite.

Instead of Gruyere cheese, which is the typical choice, I had a spicy habanero-spiked white cheddar. For this early attempt, I just used what I had on-hand and I happened to have chunks of ham and a large wedge of spicy aged cheddar. What can I say, our kitchen is weird and I have an unholy love of Costco. The spice was a nice addition, as was the use of aged cheddar, so I think it's fine to let cheese be a bit of a wild card. The shuffled bread, meat, cheese combo was baked for about 15 minutes for the cheese to get melted and the bread to crisp a little, then a bechamel sauce was poured over the whole thing and the broiler got turned on to brown the top of the casserole. When it's served, the big charred center on a large baking dish isn't the prettiest thing in the world, but sliced into large ooey-gooey squares and served up on a plate, it's not so bad. Despite the in-progress status on this, the first attempt was still delicious. I just wanted to further improve on the texture of each bite and make the bread feel more custard-like, soaking up more of the egg and milk mixture before the slices are shuffled between the meat. I'm definitely looking forward to making this again, improvements considered, to give it that perfect Croque Monsieur experience, in an easy large-scale size for sharing over brunch, as I think this has the potential to be a real winner alongside a mimosa.

Mixed Plate: Ham, Eggs, Tulips and Not Paying Retail

Easter weekend came and went, which had me thinking about favorite things about the holiday -- the childhood joy of coloring eggs and the resulting Technicolor Dreamcoat-hued egg salad that completely skeeved me out, the giant chocolate bunnies I'd receive from family or friends and the savage joy of biting off those ears first. Everyone knows it's the part that tastes best. Even the annual eating of Peeps -- well, more like one Peep. I'd wind up with a package, thinking this will be the year I develop an appreciation for those marshmallow sugar-coated little cuties. I take a bite, it feels like you're eating packing material dipped in sand, and I throw the rest away, completely disgusted with myself for being an idiot to think this year would be any different. The old traditions have gone by the wayside in lieu of new ones, namely hitting the casino for brunch and browsing the outlet malls. What would Jesus do? Apparently, not pay retail.

The Easter miracle - tulips before retail - Photo by Wasabi Prime

The Prime didn't totally make a mockery of the Easter holiday -- well, just a half-mockery -- as I managed to fit in a visit to the Skagit Valley Tulip Festival. Quite honestly, it's one of the most stunning things you'll ever see, driving up north towards Everett and being suddenly inundated with fields of solid color. It's literally like a rainbow punched you in the face. Rows and rows of bright yellow daffodils, alternating rows of tulips in warm orange, reds and pinks; it's a beautiful sight, even on the grey, blustery Easter Sunday I was in the neighborhood.

Tiptoeing and trespassing through the tulips - Photos by Wasabi Prime

I didn't have my big camera with me because the original intent of the trip was a heathen-filled day of casino buffet-eating and outlet mall shopping, but an Easter miracle allowed my dinky phone camera to take photos of the tulip fields that didn't look like total garbage. If confession is good for the soul, I should be totally up front in that the only reason we wound up in beautiful fields of flowers on the Lord's Day was the shops weren't open yet and we had a couple of hours to kill. Along with trespassing in a daffodil field clearly marked NO TRESPASSING and taking photos, my partners in crime and I managed to escape the incoming rain as we tiptoed through the tulips at a garden that actually invited visitors to tromp through their fields. Somebody up there liked us and approved of our retail pre-func with the flowers.

So that's what happened to ABBA - Photos by Wasabi Prime

You'll discover tulips you never knew existed, in rare colors, shapes and sizes, and you'll likely make it a point to visit the area every year. While this April was unusually cold and not as many fields were ablaze with blooms, it was still a thing of beauty. My friend Stacie, aka, SJBe, was sweet to get me a bouquet of favorite tulips to bring home as a souvenir, which I must say, tulips and bulbs in general are the best blooms for lazy folks like myself. They're hearty, they last longer than most flowers, and the just scream springtime cheerfulness. The colorful romp in the garden fueled us with energy to battle the crowds at the outlet mall, which if there was a soundtrack for the day, we'd have had Tiny Tim's quirky "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" for the first part and GNR's "Welcome to the Jungle" for the outlet malls. You know where you are? You're in the jungle bably, you're gonna diiiiiiiiiiiiiiie. So sayeth the wisdom of Axl Rose.

Can you find the Easter eggs? - Photos by Wasabi Prime

After a long day of weathering the retail masses and not even having the satisfaction of finding anything worth buying beyond a cup of coffee, I peaced-out Easter Sunday with Brinner (breakfast for dinner). I bought a ham for no other reason than it was 99 cents a pound and I could freeze the meat and save the bone for split pea soup. Day of rest, remember? The feast of Easter Brinner was composed of poached eggs over a hash of ham and sweet potatoes, using a method of poaching eggs that I was happy to discover via Bon Appetit magazine. They had a quickie microwave trick, cracking an egg into a cup of water, enough to cover the top of the egg, and giving the egg-water mix a spin in the microwave for a minute, with a saucer placed over the top, presumably to focus the heat and make for an especially clattering ruckus should the egg explode. Luckily, there was no eggs-plosion (har har), but I admit, I over-microwaved the egg, resulting in more of a soft-boiled stage than truly poached. The method is sound, I just need to fuss with the timing on my microwave a little, but I was pleased to find such an easy shortcut method for preparing eggs in my favorite way. I have a lot more leftover ham to perfect the nuke-time on my microwave, so despite Easter having hopped along like Peter Cottontail, the joy of eggs will remain.

FoodTrek/UnRecipe: Remember to Eat Your Greens (with lots of cheese)

It's no secret that we have a love of board games, and we regularly gather at a friend's house every month for game-playing, beer-drinking, and trash-talking. You know, wholesome family fun with alcohol and profanity. It tends to be a pot luck affair, so at the last meetup, our contribution to the meal was a side dish that was somewhere between a casserole and creamed spinach. Either way, it was a tasty offering that made it easy to eat one's greens the Wasabi Way... basically with cheese and cream.

A hearty plate of comfort food and trash-talkin' for Game Night - Photo by Wasabi Prime

All vegetable side dishes start out with the best of intentions, as in, they start out with vegetables. This one was a mix of freezer and fresh goods -- frozen chopped spinach and fresh zucchini and leeks. I know it's good to start out with the freshest ingredients available, but I've learned my lesson with spinach enough times to know that cooking down fresh spinach is like watching a magic act. Not that I'm expecting Criss Angel to show up in some ruffled RenFair number and leather pants, but even the largest bag of fresh spinach from Costco is going to magically disappear into maybe four servings once it's cooked down in a pan. It's kind of disappointing since those two pound bags are impressive and one would hope it would last beyond a couple of meals. I stock up on boxes of frozen spinach when it's on supersale and just keep them in the freezer; a few days to thaw in the fridge or a few minutes on defrost in the microwave, and it's fine in a pinch, no disappointment required.

I made up for my frozen trespasses with a thinly-sliced leek and a zucchini shredded on a box grater, and then drained of excess water. Sauteeing these greens together in a pan with salt and pepper, they gave up any remaining liquids before a cup and a half of cream was added to completely reverse any healthy intentions. Oh, and some chunks of goat cheese were thrown in for good measure, to make sure and destroy all hopes of nutritional life, while adding a creamy emulsifying effect.

Well, it started out healthy, before all the cheese, cream and breadcrumbs showed up - Photos by Wasabi Prime

I had some toasted rye breadcrumbs, which crusted the top of the creamy vegetable casserole with an earthy look, as it baked off in the oven. I don't mean to say it made it rustic -- it really did look like a field of dirt in miniature. Our friends commented that they could have put little model train people and trees, creating a little edible landscape. But since it was dinnertime, and they made a truly heavenly ham as the dinner's centerpiece, we skipped playing with our food and chose the novel path of eating it with much om-nom-nomitude.

Zoe and Milo contemplate a world of ham - Photos by Wasabi Prime

Rounds of our favorite, Dominion, were played, doggies Zoe and Milo licked their chops to plead their case of I Can Haz? and everyone ate and drank well that night. Much gratitude and thanks to the Clan McDaniels household for being such generous hosts these last few months, as well as organizing these regular board game nights. Looking forward to our next bout of feudal empires won and lost!

UnRecipe: Fantasy Island Pizza

In the mind's eye, picture a tropical breeze, a perfectly serene beach, and the Smoove-B stylings of Mr. Rourke in his impeccable white suit to greet guests and present a pizza that looks somewhat like the one in the photo below. Not that it's such a wonderous thing that deserves a place on television's Fantasy Island, but more like when someone orders a "Hawaiian Pizza," I'm fairly sure it's only a fantasy that people in Hawaii are keen to order the combo of canned pineapple and soggy ham. Not to burst anyone's bubble, but they like their pizzas like everyone else: cheesy, meaty, and delivered in under thirty minutes before their beer gets warm. But it is one of Mr. Wasabi's favorites, and I felt this casual comfort deserved to be gussied-up a bit, so inspired by some pantry goods and our recent vacation, a Spiced Pineapple, Black Forest Ham, and Sundried Tomato Pesto Flatbread was created. Look, Boss! It's de pizza!

Eat your heart out, Ricardo Montalban, King of Khan - Photo by Wasabi Prime

Trader Joes was the driving force behind this dish. It's a great store, full of amazing things you never knew you needed, but can't live without, and after bringing them home, you're not totally sure how to live with them either. Organic heirloom cherry tomatoes? Individually-sized Greek yogurt cups? Frozen pot de creme? My personal weakness is their snack aisle (Chili Lime Cashews, you complete me), and came across a package of their dried pineapple with chili spice. I had no idea what it tasted like or what I would do with it. By the Power of Compulsive Shopping, I had to have it!

Flash forward months later when I realize we've accumulated too many random items in the pantry, it's time to cook our way through this smorgasbord, and I recognize the package of red spice-flecked pineapple chunks. I thought as a joke, they would make for a fancy Hawaiian pizza, but the joke got less and less funny as I thought it may not taste like total crap.

In an UnRecipe-like fashion, I collected items I thought would be a good fit, but in atypical fashion, I actually started jotting things down. Why? I don't know -- let's just call it preparation for Thunderdome. I did use a flatbread recipe from Epicurious by Ben Ford, which was a nice return to breadmaking. The rest of it was a MacGyver meal of throwing together things and hoping I didn't end up making a pipe bomb instead of a pizza.

Kickin' it with Flava-FLAV: spicy pineapple, sundried tomato pesto and heavenly ham - Photo by Wasabi Prime

While the flatbread dough rose, I had enough time to make a simple pesto from sundried tomatoes. For the cheese, I chose fresh mozzarella, as it melts nicely, stringy-good, and the flavor won't compete with the other elements. I went back and forth on the ham, wondering if I should use proscuitto or not, but went with Black Forest as it's a bit meatier and not as salty. Because the spiced pineapple chunks were so strongly seasoned with chili and ginger, I didn't want it to be a Fight Club of flavors.

Once baked, the finished flatbreads were a satisfying combination of savory and sweet. The dry pineapple chunks soak up the surrounding moisture, so they soften by the time it's baked. The crust was doughy with a good bite to it, a delicious reminder that making bread isn't so difficult and very much worth the effort. I don't have a pizza stone, but was still able to get the small paddle-shaped flatbreads done with a bit of crispness. The small shapes bake up quickly, which is good since they need to be baked prior to adding the pesto and toppings.

I often felt like the "Hawaiian Pizza" was akin to a plain pepperoni and cheese pizza -- boring and overdone. Approaching something I'm not excited about and finding a way to make it more interesting was a nice experiment that yielded delicious results.

Heavenly ham and el diablo pineapple combine forces! - Photos by Wasabi Prime

Fancy Fantasy Island Flatbreads
(makes 8 small flatbreads)

*use flatbread recipe from Epicurious

flatbread toppings
8 oz fresh mozzarella, torn into 8 segments
8 slices of Black Forest ham
1 package of spiced dried pineapple from Trader Joe's

sundried tomato pesto
3 0z bag of sundried tomatoes
3 garlic cloves
1/2 cup olive oil
1 tsp chopped oregano
1 tsp red pepper flakes

Waiting for bread to rise and/or bake, take tomatoes and garlic and pulse in a food processor until rendered to small, even-sized pieces. Add spices and let food processor break everything down into small bits before slowly adding the olive oil. Continue to mix in food processor until consistency is like a paste.

When flatbreads are done baking, remove from oven and reduce temperature to 350 degrees F. Spread the pesto on the flatbreads and divide the cheese, ham and pineapple across the eight flatbreads. Place back into the oven and let the cheese melt and brown slightly before serving. Commence omming and nomming.