Three Cheese (No Bake) Ziti

I ran across this recipe yesterday while trying to find inspiration for dinner.  As soon as I read it and saw the picture, I immediately started craving it.  I'm not a tomato fan, but the acidity and tartness was definitely appealing to me.  So, on my way home I stopped by the trusty old Apple Market and picked up a few things I needed to make the ziti. 

I would have taken a picture, but the pasta disappeared as soon as it came out of the oven.  Here's the picture from the person who posted the original recipe.  I have to say, though, that my pasta actually did look better than it does in this picture.

Ingredients:

3 Garlic Cloves

3 tbsp. Extra Virgin Olive Oil

1 can Crushed Tomatoes

1 can Whole Tomatoes

Basil
1 lb. Ziti (I used Rigatoni)
2 tbsp. Butter
2 tbsp. Flour
1 c. Milk
1 c. Half-and-Half
1 pinch Nutmeg
1/2 c. Shredded Asiago Cheese
1/2 c. Shredded Parmesan Cheese
1 c. Sliced Fresh Mozzarella
Salt and Pepper

Instructions:
Put pasta water on to boil in a large pot.  In a sauce pan over medium heat, saute finely chopped garlic in olive oil.  Add crushed and whole tomatoes (break apart with your hands before adding to pan).  Add salt, pepper and basil to taste.  The recipe called for 1/2 cup of fresh basil, but I used dried basil and just sprinkled it in the tomato sauce until it looked right.  Simmer over low heat for at least 10 minutes (the longer the better). 

Add salt and pasta to boiling water and cook 8 minutes.  You want the pasta to be a tad undercooked.  While the pasta cooks, melt butter in a small pot over medium heat.  Whisk in the flour and cook for 1 minute.  Add the milk and half-and-half, or just milk if that's all you have, to create a bechamel sauce.  Add salt, pepper and nutmeg to the sauce.  Whisk until bechamel sauce thickens.  Take sauce off the heat and whisk in the asiago and parmesan cheeses. 

Drain pasta and pour the tomato-basil sauce on top.  Toss until pasta is evenly coated with sauce.  Then, pour the pasta into a greased 13x9 casserole dish.  Pour the bechamel sauce over the top of the pasta.  Top the dish off with the sliced mozzarella.  Broil the dish for 3 to 5 minutes until the cheese is brown and bubbly. 

No lie, this is the best pasta I have ever had.  That includes restaurants, too.  I didn't think anything could top my lasagna, but this is a definite contender.  Serve it up with some garlic bread and treat your taste buds to a fabulous meal.  Enjoy!

Just Call Me 'Wendy the Hog Slayer'

I'm not really a hog hunter.  I'm a deer hunter that hates hogs.  They petrify me.  When I have to get out the stand and walk by myself to the truck at night, the mere thought that there may be hogs in the woods surrounding me makes me shake.  It makes me want my daddy.  I start to walk faster and faster using my iPhone as a flashlight, turning it from side to side to ward off any unwanted creatures.  The smallest noise (usually an armadillo) will make me dart off in a run until I reach a clearing.  Then I act all cool like nothing scares me.  My shaking knees tell on me, though. 





When I'm tall in an oak tree, however, nothing can touch me -- except those pesky jet-like buzzards, but that's another time and place.  Hogs can't touch me, at least.  I have all the power in my hands.  I'm sitting up high and being all sneaky so no animal sees or hears me.  When I see a deer, I'm extra careful to move slowly and not let any of my instruments clank against each other. I feel very powerful when I'm in a tall tree.  So, when a herd of hogs (is it a herd or pack or pride or gang or what?) came strolling into my corn in front of my tree, I pulled out "deer mode" and executed my motions ever so diligently. 

Again, I really hate hogs.  I wanted to take everyone of them out so I didn't have to worry about them snooping around in my "neck of the woods" anymore.  I pulled back my bow and nailed the largest hog in the bunch.  I knew I stuck it hard.  So hard, actually, that it went all the way through the hog.  I watched as it zigged and zagged through the woods and out of my sight. 

I tried to tell Tate I had gotten it so he could help me look for it.  I was not getting out of that tree and looking for a wounded and angry hog.  No sir-ee.  Tate had dropped his phone out of the stand and came to get me after he checked the message.  We had no real flashlights, so I used the flashlight app on my iPhone and Tate had a little dinky one that had been thrown in his truck.  Of course, Tate was frustrated that I hadn't already found the hog before it got dark. Again, I was not looking for a wounded hog in the thick of the woods by myself.  Not happening. 

Tate, like his dad, doubles as a blood hound.  Seriously, it's amazing.  He can spot the tiniest drop of blood on the underside of a leaf like no one else can.  It's why I love him.  I followed a foot behind Tate as he crawled on all-fours spotting blood and calling it out.  After a time, we came to an impass.  Tate couldn't find anymore blood and I was charged to sit there and keep an eye on the last blood that he spotted.  He finally walked off to find anymore traces of blood.  As we traipsed across the crispy leaf-covered ground, I shined my flashlight behind where he had been standing.  I just chuckled and said, "There it is."

"More blood?" he asked. 

"The hog," I smiled.  He just laughed and said that he felt like an idiot for standing there for so long and never looking behind him.  To his credit, it was up against a tree in a thorny vine patch. 

Tate gutted the hog on the spot.  That was DISGUSTING.  Not only were the inerds pretty disturbing, the smell was awful.  Hellacious.  That was the first animal I have ever been forced to watch be gutted.  I was forced because I had to hold the legs.  Gag. 

That's the hog story.  I hope the next story is about the monster buck I let go.

Easiest Ever Peanut Butter Cookies

This past week was Fall Break and I spended some much needed time at home cleaning and lounging around and not doing a whole lot of anything.  Come Friday afternoon, I was starting to get the baking bug.  Tate has been on a diet and refused to let me bake or even cook a normal meal.  All we have eaten the past three weeks is talapia and grilled chicken salad.  Anyway, I decided was going to make some sugar cookies, but didn't have enough flour or sugar.  What has happened to me that I didn't even stock up?  I always have an abundance of all kinds of flour and sugar!  I scoured my cookbooks looking for a tasty recipe that didn't call for anymore than two cups of flour or one cup of sugar.  Finally, I came across this recipe for peanut butter cookies.  Peanut butter cookies were always my favorite growing up, but they got pushed aside when I discovered snickerdoodles and oatmeal crispies.  This recipe, unlike any other I had ever tried, only called for three ingredients.  THREE INGREDIENTS!  I must admit, I was skeptical.  The recipe didn't even call for flour.  So, of course I had to try it out.  Prepare to have your socks blown off.

Ingredients:
1 egg

1 cup sugar

1 cup peanut butter

*** The recipe called for creamy peanut butter, but I used crunchy.  It's the rebel in me.  And the fact that I don't own creamy peanut butter. 

Basically, you dump all the ingredients in a big bowl and mix 'em up.  Use a spoon or cookie scoop to drop them on the baking sheet and then do the signature fork thingy to press them down. Pop them in the oven and bake at 350 degrees for approximately 18 minutes.

Warning: these cookies are addicting.  They are not chewy, but instead ultra crumbly and melt-in-your-mouth lip lickin' good.  If you are lucky like me, your husband doesn't care for peanut butter cookies and you get to have most of them all to yourself.  That's until your mother comes over and sneaks the rest of them.  But, that's another story. 

Breakfast Pizza

As you'll recall from my BBQ Chicken Pizza recipe, the dough makes two crusts.  I'm always trying to come up with new pizza recipes to try out.  So a week or two ago I made some dough and started to pick my brain for an idea.  I looked in the fridge and found some Blue & Gold sausage and some Real Bacon Bits for salad.  I covered the pizza dough with a small amount of pizza sauce and a lot of fresh mozzarella.  I browned up the sausage and piled it on the pizza.  I mean piled.  I'm not even a huge fan of sausage, but I held nothing back.  Then I sprinkled on the bacon.  Mind you, these are not normal crusty bacon bits, these are real pieces of bacon just like you would fry up and cut.  I popped the very heaviliy ornamented pizza in the oven for about 12 minutes until it was absolutely perfect.  When I took the pizza out, I sprinkled on some parsley and ground parmesan and then served it up.  The first bite was pure delight, as was each bite after.  This was by far my favorite pizza.  Tate named it breakfast pizza.  I tried it for breakfast the next day.  It was still delicious. 

The next night I made a normal pepperoni pizza.  It was pretty good, but not as fun.  I'm still looking for new pizza ideas, so if you have any, let me know!

Bill Clinton Thinks I'm Cute

It's been a while since I've had a dream significant enough to write about.  And by significant I mean a dream that I can really remember.  This morning I was driving the work when I suddenly remembered my dream from last night.  I started laughing and trying to remember as much as I could about this dream.

The dream starts out at our football field where there is a big rally of sorts hosted by the "big wigs" of my university.  I was sitting in the stands with a bunch of freshman and I didn't want to disclose my age.  I was afraid they would rat me out for sitting in the student section.  My whole family was at the rally, as well, but for some reason I opted out of sitting with them.  This includes Tate.  He was hanging out with my dad, as usual. 

The rally included a stint from former President Bill Clinton himself.  Just after Clinton gave his remarks and before the rally ended, I started to exit the stands to find the restroom.  While on my way down, three different 18-year-old boys asked me on a date.  Instead of telling them that I was a faculty member or I was married, I just told them I was too busy.  I really didn't want them to know I was that much older than them.  Upon stepping into the foyer, I passed V.P. of Student Development Bronson Warren hob-knobbing with Clinton.  Bronson pulled me over and introduced me to Clinton as a member of his staff.  I shook his hand and then he pinched my cheeks and said, "You are just the cutest little thing I have ever seen in a professional position."  Wierd?  Only if it wasn't a dream.  I then ran into my family and told them that I was cool with the Pres. and I'd take them over to meet him.  My parents and husband, as well as my sister's husband, decided to go wait in the car while my two older sisters and I went to talk to him. 

By now there was quite a waiting line for fans wanting to see him.  So, we waited and waited.  Star finally got sick of standing and said she was going back to the stands and to call her when we get close.  Finally we reached the front of the line and we watched and laughed as Clinton struck funny poses with the people taking pictures with him.  We tried to call Star over and over, but couldn't reach her.  While we were on the phone, people kept cutting us in line and I started to get frustrated -- and pushy.  As our turn approached for picture time with Clinton, we still couldn't get ahold of Star, so Sheena and I tried to stall by gabbing with the president.  Out of the distance Star came running up and we were able to get the picture we were hoping for.  Then we left.  And I woke up.

I think I have an idea of where some of these components of the dream came from.  I think the rally was in the dream because there was a small rally of students on campus yesterday in support of a student in trouble.  The rally being held at the football stadium was probably because I was there for the Homecoming game this past weekend and I haven't been to a game all year.  Also, the comment about me being cute probably came about because while at that Homecoming game on Saturday, a male friend of mine pulled a real creepy moment of telling me how beautiful I am.  The pinched cheeks and trying to conceal my age certainly have something to do with how young I look.  I have never been ashamed that I look years younger than I am.  In fact, I've always been proud because I know that when I'm 40 and I only look 32 that I will look better than everyone who makes fun of me now.  However, with my job, it does get frustrating when I'm constantly being asked by students and parents what year I am in  college or comment that I'm really knowledgeable about the university for a freshmen.  Yes, I've heard that more than once. 

Also,  after the Homecoming game, a group of us went to the LaFragua reunion where we were the only people there under 47.  After we left, we went to a friend's house where there was supposed to be no one there under 21, but after walking in the house, we discovered hoards of underagers and students from the PLC class that I work with.  Worse than that, there were high school students that I had tried to recruit the week before.  I high-tailed it out of there before I could get caught, and as I made my way out, I lowered my head and tried to look really young so no one would oust me. 

Oh, and the whole Bill Clinton component of the dream -- it came from a post card I read on Post Secret.  If you've never been on that site, you should definitely check it out at http://www.postsecret.com/.

Hunting Trip #3

After what happened Friday afternoon with the whole tea incident, I decided to dehydrate myself before going into the deer woods.  Smart, right?  Although I was aching for water when I got home each trip, I didn't have anymore panic attacks.  Haha. 

So, I hadn't seen much deer activity until last night (Sunday).  I had almost opted out of going hunting after waking up from a groggy nap.  Looking back now, I'm not sure what I should have done.  The story goes like this:  I sat there in that gosh forsaken tree that pokes into my back and causes me to sit crooked in a concave seat for hours.  Dusk started to set in when I heard deer coming from the south.  I could tell it was more than one, thinking it was probably a couple of doe looking for corn. Then I saw a buck circling around behind me.  Then I saw a second buck.  And then a third.  I lost sight of the first buck and bent over to catch a glimpse of the second.  As I did, I laid my eyes on the first buck, standing directly under my tree limb -- the most gorgeous buck I'd ever seen alive and not on tv.  My heart started pounding almost seemingly out of chest and my hands started sweating.  I slowly leaned back and watched.  The first buck ran at the second, must smaller, buck to run him off of the corn.  As he did, I attempted to draw back my bow.

Here's the back story on that.  A couple of nights ago Tate tightened my bow and I had only practiced pulling the extra five or so pounds back a couple of times.  So, you can imagine that it was a little difficult.  Then factor in that I was sitting down.  That makes it a little harder to pull back steadily.  Now, if you've never been hunting, there is one thing you have to know so I don't sound like a total wuss.  The second you lay eyes on a buck your muscles forget how to work.  The bigger the buck the worse.  You don't shake and shiver, your muscles just turn to Jell-O.  It's very frustrating.

So, I made my first attempt at drawing back the bow.  Failure.  When I let the string back, the arrow fell through the rest, making a clinking noise.  Then I had to push it back through, which caused another clink.  The deer didn't like that, obviously.  But, they allowed me to try to pull the bow back another three times, with clinking at all, before they walked away.  And, I must tell you, that buck was giving me the most beautiful broadside shot.  He probably knew I was too weak to shoot him.  As he walked away I hung my head in shame.  Then, about one minute later I heard him coming back, alone this time.  Dang it if he didn't traipse right back in that perfect profile position not 15 yards away.  Again, I drew back my bow, or tried.  Didn't happen.  It clinked.  I began to draw back again when he turned his head up to the tree and stared me in the eyes.  Gulp.  I'm done.  He's seen me and I'll never see him again.  I let the bow down and he turned, nonchalantly, and walked into the woods.  I made a final attempt at pulling the bow back, and wouldn't you know it, I got it all the way back and was steady as could be.  The problem?  His rear-end was the only thing in sight and fading fast.  I lost him.  I was, and am disgusted with myself. 

Shooting light passed and began climbing out of the tree.  I was thinking on the way down (before I hooked my leg on the tree step) that I shouldn't even tell Tate, but I knew we had the entire encounter on the trail camera and he would see what happened.  Sure enough, there was this grandious buck looking straight at me like I was the world largest loser.  And then Tate looked at me like I was the world's largest loser.  And I feel it, too. 

Of course, I got the lecture about how I should have been pulling the bow back.  Then he made fun of me the rest of the night.  And he threatened to take over that hunting spot so he could get the buck.  Tate, in case you don't know, doesn't make mistakes like that.  He doesn't screw up in hunting and nothing embarrassing has happened to him.  I threatened that if I found out he was in that stand or he shot that deer there would be major problems. 

I don't think I scare him. 

Bow Season Opener

Today was the opening day of bow season.  All week I was so excited, I could hardly wait for today.  Today the weather was absolutely gorgeous and, although I was bogged down in heaps of tasks at work, I was in a super mood.  I even took off work a couple hours early to come home, get all camo-ed up and get my gear together.

Tate had been scouting out an area for me to hunt.  He set up a camera and put a tree stand high up in the biggest tree.  He has a pretty wonderful buck on camera that kept coming back each day, mostly in the morning.  To be honest, I'm really suprised he was so unselfish to let me in that stand knowing what I could potentially shoot.  It makes me question his faith in my shooting ability.  I can confidently say that I have improved drastically since I shot the a/c.  And I don't shoot without my contacts anymore. 

So, we grabbed some teas at the local store and around 5:15p.m. I made the climb to the stand.  By the way, I hate climbing trees.  I abhore climbing trees.  I always make Tate stay there until I get up so he can catch me if I fall.  And to tie my bow to the rope and send it up.  The trunk of the tree was sticking straight into my back and made for a very uncomfortable evening, but I was determined to as still and quiet as possible so I could shoot that buck.  The swarming, blood-sucking mosquitos made that quite difficult, but I  tried my hardest.  I waited.  And waited.  I waited even more and did not see a thing.  Once I heard something behind me in the woods that sounded like an animal falling, but I never heard anything afterwards. 

Then the medium half-sweet tea I drank on the way to the deer woods started to kick in.  When it got to flowing through me, it went full steam.  I started squirming and trying to think of anything but my bladder.  It just got worse as I tried to sit back, then sit forward, then move my feet.  Nothing was helping ad I didn't know how much longer I could stand it.  I really wanted to make it til dark, but the tea was closing in. 

All in one instant panic set in and I HAD to get out of that stand.  I started feverishly attempting to get my quiver hooked back onto my bow, but I was shaking and freaking out and couldn't get the job done.  Finally, I just halfway hooked the quiver to the bow, tied the bow to the rope and let it drop.  I stuffed the release in my pocket and shimmied down the tree.  I have never gotten out of a tree so fast, especially without Tate's help.  At that point the only thing I could think was, "Well, if  I fall I'll at least get to pee."  I didn't fall.  I grabbed my bow, quiver and my camera at the base of the tree and took off for the clearing.  Although I desperately had to relieve myself, I didn't want to do it near my hunting station.  I got into the clearing found a cluster of trees and went to squatting.  What sweet relief. 

This is just not very mannerly of me at all, is it? 

Anyway, I finished my business and felt much better.  I pulled up my drawers and as I turned around to grab my bow I saw three does staring at me.  What a sight I must of been.  Defeat was written all over my face.  The first doe started blowing and I just shrugged my shoulders and took a seat until Tate came to get me.  That gave me enough time to wallow in my shame and get my story together to explain to Tate exactly why I had to scram out of that tree.

Lesson learned?  Absolutely, positvely no tea before hunting.