Author Archives: Alan Ilagan

Forget about ‘fetch’ – the only thing not ever going to happen is me making pancakes from scratch that aren’t disasters. I’m not going to pretend false humility or modesty at this moment: I’m pretty fucking awesome at a pretty extensive number of things. The one thing I remain unable to consistently accomplish is making a simple fucking pancake. (I have come close in the past, but just this once.)

Maybe it’s the heat, maybe it’s the ingredients, maybe it’s the pan, maybe it’s just my fucking ineptitude to operate when a runny batter rears its wet head – whatever the case, I can’t do it.  And it’s not just the first pancake either, though I appreciate the condolences. That’s ok. I mean, I’m ok with it now. And I’m sure I could work and work and practice and perfect – but I’d rather accept this defeat, especially as it means someone else will have the opportunity to make them.

Now, if you want your pancake burnt on the outside and raw in the middle – not such an easy thing to do, by the way – you’ve come to the right guy. I’ll give you that charred-semi-semolina magic anytime. If you want it profanity-free, that’s gonna cost you fucking extra.

FYI – I’m completely aware that the protective seal from the fancy-ass syrup bottle is on the plate. It fell there when I was trying to be fucking fancy and it just felt right to leave it there.

Like many others, I’ve been on a cooking kick of late given that there’s not much else we can do while waiting for the weather to warm up a bit and work in the yard. Be that as it may, I’m not averse to simplifying things in the kitchen as much as possible, so a recent New York Times supplement that included ’24 Brilliant Recipes for Everyone Who Hates Doing the Dishes’ has been a godsend. Thus far I’ve made my way through six of them – the latest being this Dijon and Cognac Beef Stew, which was as scrumptious as it was simple. [To date this pork chop endeavor has been my favorite.]

The cognac beef stew seen here is basically just some stew beef, seasoned and coated in a dusting of flour before being nicely browned in the rendered wonder of some salt pork, then some onion and shallots and carrots and mushrooms, and finally some cognac, beef stock, Dijon mustard, Pommery mustard and red wine. (Confession: I omitted the Pommery mustard and just used a bit more of the Dijon we had because ours seemed to have enough whole-grains in it, and I don’t really know what Pommery mustard is. I feel more badly about the sinful omission of the red wine because we didn’t have an open bottle, but I would definitely add it if you have some on hand.)

This recipe could also be done in a slow-cooker, which is the way I did it, because if you can do it in a slow cooker, just do it in a slow cooker! Technically, our slow cooker will saute too, but I used one pan for browning the meat and cooking the veggies and it worked out with minimal clean-up.

I’ve got my eye on a Shrimp Scampi with Orzo next…

There’s nothing very exciting about bulgur on its own. Whole wheat grain that doesn’t require much cooking to prepare is about as thrilling as it sounds. Before you go to sleep, however, give it a whirl with some eye-opening additions, such as preserved lemon, garlic shrimp and a big handful of fresh cilantro, and you’ve got a suddenly exciting dish that is ample enough to stand on its own as an entree. 

This is basically just some bulgur soaked in boiling water and left alone for half an hour or so, then mixed with some shrimp sautéed in garlic and butter, a healthy pour of olive oil, a small preserved lemon finely chopped (or half of a large one), and some chopped avocado. A good handful of freshly-chopped cilantro is the final touch for this bright meal – perfect for spring and summer because of its minimal cooking time. Be generous with the salt and pepper too – the bulgur wants it. 

This is one of those dishes that took years for me to grow into, like lobster, pizza and Fritos. (Yes, there was a time in my life when I didn’t like any of those things.) But time changes us, and tastes evolve and grow, so when Andy was introduced to the Filipino mung bean recipe that my Mom made and instantly loved them, I gave them another shot. Back when I was a kid, I didn’t see the point to them – they were bland and dull. I couldn’t taste the subtle earthy nuances of the beans, nor enjoy the healthy benefits of the swirls of spinach running through them. Now I enjoy them, particularly on spring days that retain the brutal sting of winter, as we’ve had of late. They are a comfort food, reminding me of grand family gatherings of Filipino relatives, when Tagalog was shouted back and forth across crowded dining room tables, and my brother and I could slip away unnoticed and undetected to do our spying and secret mayhem.

My Mom gave us a package of mung beans several years ago, and in the great pantry cleanout forced by the current state of affairs, I brought them out and asked her to send me the recipe she used. We needed comfort food more than ever, and a healthy pot of beans would last several days in a household of two.

A 12 oz package of mung beans is all you need to begin. It can go right into a cooking pot, then cover the beans with water and bring to a boil. Once boiling, turn heat to low and continue to add water as the beans soak it up and cook for about 45 minutes. You want a stew-like consistency (but add more or less as suits you).

Next, chop up a small-medium onion and sauté in some olive oil. (I also added some fresh ginger and garlic to the onions for additional flavor, but this was not part of my Mom’s original recipe.) If you have a small tomato on hand, chop that up and add it to the sauté pan. If mung beans are soft at this point, add all the vegetables to the pot and stir. At this point, I added a lot of salt (it’s necessary to combat the blandness) and a number of turns of pepper.

The final part is a bag of spinach or some chopped Swiss chard, which goes in for the last few minutes of cooking, until it is just wilted. Serve in a bowl, or atop a bed of rice as you like.