THE BACHELOR LIFE COOKBOOK — Free Preview: Introduction and Chapter Two

All chapters | Kitchen basics and safety reference

Recipes in this chapter

• One-Pot Beef and Tomato Macaroni
• Sheet-Pan Chicken and Potatoes
• Sausage Cabbage and Potato Skillet
• Chicken Broccoli and Rice Skillet
• Black Bean and Sweet Potato Taco Skillet

JOE AT THE KITCHEN TABLE

How the Hell Did I Write a Cookbook

I don't know how I ended up writing a cookbook. I do know it wasn't because somebody tasted my supper and demanded to know where I'd trained. Nobody's standing in my kitchen whispering about my delicate use of thyme. Most nights I'm trying to find the damn can opener.

I'm Joe Durst. I build things for a living. I'm a divorced Tennessee contractor raising my teenage son, Tucker, and between the two of us we have managed to establish a fairly reliable need for groceries.

Tucker is a good kid. I want that on the record before we get into what it costs to keep him alive. He's at the age where eating supper doesn't necessarily interfere with being hungry. It can delay the announcement a little, but I wouldn't build a schedule around it.

The refrigerator door opens, closes, opens again. I don't know what anybody expects to change in those forty seconds. There's not a little man in the back stocking it while you're gone. If the last trip revealed mustard, milk and a container of chicken, the next trip is probably going to be a similar experience.

Somebody has to turn the ingredients into supper. In this house, that somebody is me unless Tucker's helping. I don't mind cooking. I mind the way people have decided it needs to be a whole damn personality.

Look up a recipe and suddenly you're reading about a woman's unforgettable summer in Italy. Good for her. I'm in my kitchen looking at a pound of hamburger meat. Could we get the two of them introduced before somebody asks if we're ordering pizza?

Then you reach the ingredients. Seventeen things, three of which apparently grow only on a cliff. A special oil. A special salt. Something that comes in a tiny bottle and costs more than the meat. I ain't driving to another store so a Tuesday chicken can experience its full potential.

INTRODUCTION CONTINUED

First We Have to Eat

I want food I can buy at an ordinary grocery store, cook with the pans I already own and put on the table without announcing that everybody needs to appreciate how hard I worked. If supper needs an acceptance speech, something's gone wrong.

That's what this book is. Twenty-eight recipes for breakfasts, skillet meals, slow-cooker food and leftovers worth another night. There's cheese in a fair amount of it because I like cheese. There are beans because they fill people up without requiring me to finance a second pound of beef. Potatoes turn up because they've been doing useful work for a long time and haven't started charging extra for the reputation.

I ain't claiming to be a chef. I'm a man who has to eat, and who's responsible for another person who also has to eat, sometimes with remarkable urgency. I've got bills, work and a sink that fills up whether I feel like dealing with it or not.

You don't need a culinary degree for this. Read the recipe before you start. Cut things roughly the size I tell you. Check meat with a thermometer instead of poking it and declaring it probably fine. A thermometer gives you a number. Your thumb gives you an opinion, and we've already got enough of those.

You'll see Tucker in these pages because he's part of my life. I give him a hard time, but I'd rather have him at the table eating the last of something than an empty chair and all the leftovers in the world. He can still wash a plate. Love doesn't make dish soap dangerous.

Use the book. Get some sauce on it. Write down what you changed. If you don't like a vegetable, use a sensible substitution instead of sending me a paragraph about your complicated relationship with peas.

All right. We have established that I'm not a chef, Tucker's hungry and the grocery store has lost its damn mind. Let's make something to eat.

CHAPTER 2

Shit I Throw in One Pan

There ought to be a photograph of the sink beside every recipe photograph. Show me what I'm really getting into. I don't care how pretty the chicken looks if making it leaves the kitchen looking like the church rented it for a fundraiser.

You can tell a lot about a recipe by how casually it says 'in another bowl.' Another bowl. Then another saucepan. Then transfer everything to a clean dish. Where are all these clean dishes coming from? Is there a second kitchen I wasn't told about?

I cook in a real house, where the sink may already contain a cereal bowl nobody remembers using. I don't need to add six more things because the sauce wanted privacy.

One-pan food makes sense to me. You build the meal in stages, let ingredients share some flavor and finish with something substantial. It doesn't mean throwing everything in at the same time and hoping the chicken and potato work out their differences. They won't. You've got to pay a little attention.

A sheet pan counts. So does a skillet with a lid. You'll still need a knife and a cutting board, because I haven't figured out how to get an onion to dice itself out of respect for my schedule.

Use the pan size listed. A small skillet doesn't become a large skillet because you press the food down harder. If supper is climbing over the sides, you've gone past cooking and into containment.

SHIT I THROW IN ONE PAN / RECIPE 05

One-Pot Beef and Tomato Macaroni

The boxed dinner aisle is a hell of a business model. Sell me noodles and a mysterious envelope, then tell me I still need to supply the beef and milk. At some point I'm doing enough of the work that I ought to have a parking space at headquarters.

This is the same general idea without the envelope. Beef, macaroni, tomato sauce and cheese, all in one pan. It tastes like supper and the ingredients aren't playing hide-and-seek in a powder packet.

Stir it every few minutes. A noodle welded to the bottom of a skillet isn't going to loosen itself because you make a disappointed noise.

The basics

Makes: 4 generous servings
Prep: 10 minutes • Cook: 25 minutes
Total: 35 minutes
Equipment: Deep 12-inch skillet with lid

What goes in

• 1 lb lean ground beef, 90% lean
• 1 medium onion, diced
• 2 garlic cloves, minced
• 1 can (15 oz) tomato sauce
• 2 cups low-sodium beef broth
• 1 cup water, plus more only if needed
• 2 cups dry elbow macaroni, about 8 oz
• 1 teaspoon Italian seasoning
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
• 1 cup shredded cheddar cheese

Before you start: Use a deep skillet. A shallow frying pan turns this into a stovetop cleanup project.

What I do

1. Set the skillet over medium-high heat. Add beef and onion and cook 7-9 minutes, breaking up the beef, until it reaches 160°F. Drain excess fat. Stir in garlic and cook 30 seconds.
2. Add tomato sauce, broth, 1 cup water, dry macaroni, Italian seasoning, salt and pepper. Stir well and bring to a gentle boil.
3. Reduce heat to medium-low, cover and simmer 10-14 minutes. Stir every 3 minutes, scraping the bottom so the pasta doesn't glue itself down. Check the pasta at 10 minutes.
4. If the pan dries out before the pasta is tender, add hot water 1/4 cup at a time. If the pasta is tender but the sauce is loose, uncover and simmer 1-3 minutes, stirring.
5. Turn off the heat and fold in the cheese. Rest 3 minutes before serving. The sauce thickens as it stands.

Make it yours and put it away

Make it work: Ground turkey works; cook it to 165°F. Another small pasta shape works, but its cooking time and liquid needs may differ.

Stretch it: Add 1 can (15 oz) kidney beans, drained and rinsed, with the liquids. Serve with frozen green beans or a bagged salad.

Keep it: Refrigerate in shallow containers within 2 hours for 3-4 days. Reheat to 165°F with a splash of water. Freeze portions up to 2 months for best texture.

SHIT I THROW IN ONE PAN / RECIPE 06

Sheet-Pan Chicken and Potatoes

Sheet-pan meals always look easy in the pictures. Everything is arranged by color, there's a clean towel beside the pan, and apparently nobody in that house has ever dropped a piece of chicken on the floor.

Mine doesn't need to look like that. I need the chicken cooked, the potatoes tender and the green beans to still have some self-respect. They go in later because forty-five minutes in a hot oven is a lot to ask of a green bean.

Give everything room. If it's stacked three deep, you haven't made a sheet-pan supper. You've built a damp pile.

The basics

Makes: 4 servings
Prep: 15 minutes • Cook: 40-50 minutes
Total: 65 minutes
Equipment: 18-by-13-inch rimmed sheet pan

What goes in

• 2 lb bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs, about 4 large thighs
• 1 1/2 lb potatoes, cut into 3/4-inch cubes
• 1 lb fresh green beans, trimmed and dried
• 3 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt, divided, plus more to taste
• 1 teaspoon paprika
• 1 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1/2 teaspoon black pepper, divided

Before you start: Crowding steams the food. If your pan is smaller, use two pans and rotate their positions halfway through.

What I do

1. Heat the oven to 425°F. Line the sheet pan with foil if desired. Pat the chicken dry with paper towels; do not rinse raw chicken.
2. Toss potatoes with 1 1/2 tablespoons oil, 1/2 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon pepper on the pan. Spread out, leaving room for the chicken.
3. Rub chicken with 1 tablespoon oil. Season with paprika, garlic powder, 1/4 teaspoon salt and remaining 1/4 teaspoon pepper. Place skin side up between the potatoes. Roast 25 minutes.
4. Toss the green beans in a clean bowl with the remaining 1/2 tablespoon oil and 1/4 teaspoon salt. Turn the potatoes, then add the beans around the chicken. Roast 15-25 minutes more.
5. Check the thickest part of every thigh without touching bone: chicken must reach 165°F. Potatoes should pierce easily. If chicken finishes first, move it to a clean plate and continue roasting vegetables. Rest chicken 5 minutes before serving.

Make it yours and put it away

Make it work: Use broccoli florets instead of green beans; start checking them after 15 minutes. Boneless thighs cook faster, so roast potatoes alone for 15 minutes before adding chicken.

Keep it: Refrigerate within 2 hours for 3-4 days. Debone leftover chicken with clean utensils. Reheat to 165°F. Skin won't stay crisp in a microwave; an oven gives it a better chance.

SHIT I THROW IN ONE PAN / RECIPE 07

Sausage Cabbage and Potato Skillet

Cabbage is one of those groceries that still looks like it might be trying to help a man out. You pick up a head and there's some weight to the son of a bitch. It isn't six decorative leaves in a plastic box with a price that makes you check whether a chicken came with it.

Brown some sausage, add potatoes and let the cabbage cook down. It'll seem like enough to feed a church at first. Then the lid goes on and it remembers its place.

There's mustard and a little vinegar at the end. You won't need much. We're waking supper up, not stripping a floor.

The basics

Makes: 4 servings
Prep: 15 minutes • Cook: 30 minutes
Total: 45 minutes
Equipment: Deep 12-inch skillet with lid

What goes in

• 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
• 12 oz fully cooked smoked sausage, sliced 1/2-inch thick
• 1 lb potatoes, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
• 1 medium onion, sliced
• 1/2 cup water, divided
• 1 lb green cabbage, cored and cut into 1-inch pieces
• 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
• 1 tablespoon yellow mustard
• 1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar
• 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt, or to taste

Before you start: Buy sausage labeled fully cooked. Raw sausage needs a different start and a verified safe internal temperature.

What I do

1. Heat oil in the skillet over medium-high heat. Add sausage and cook 4-5 minutes, turning, until browned. Transfer to a plate.
2. Add potatoes and onion. Cook 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add 1/4 cup water, cover and reduce heat to medium. Cook 8-10 minutes, stirring once, until potatoes are nearly tender.
3. Add cabbage, garlic powder, pepper and remaining 1/4 cup water. It will look like too much cabbage. Cover for 3 minutes so it wilts, then stir carefully.
4. Cover and cook 5-8 minutes more, stirring twice, until the cabbage and potatoes are tender. Add another tablespoon or two of water only if the pan gets dry.
5. Return sausage, stir in mustard and vinegar and cook uncovered for 2-3 minutes until everything is steaming hot. Taste before adding the salt; smoked sausage brings plenty of its own.

Make it yours and put it away

Make it work: Fully cooked chicken sausage works in the same amount. Red cabbage works but colors the potatoes; that's appearance, not a crisis.

Stretch it: Add a drained can of white beans with the sausage at the end. A little mustard on the table is useful for people who like a sharper bite.

Keep it: Refrigerate within 2 hours for 3-4 days. Reheat to 165°F in a covered skillet with a splash of water. Potatoes may soften after freezing; I prefer this one from the refrigerator.

Joe's Two Cents: Cabbage doesn't need to be renamed something expensive before I'm willing to eat it. A little sausage is a more convincing argument.

SHIT I THROW IN ONE PAN / RECIPE 08

Chicken Broccoli and Rice Skillet

Chicken and rice sounds like the meal somebody hands you after saying you need to make some changes. I don't want supper arriving with a performance review.

Put some seasoning on the chicken, cook the rice in broth and add cheddar. Now we've got something I can willingly sit down to eat. The broccoli is in there too, doing its job without needing a separate pot or an inspirational speech.

Use the rice listed. Brown rice, instant rice and ordinary white rice have different requirements. They ain't interchangeable just because the bags live on the same shelf. Plenty of trouble starts with 'I figured it was close enough.'

The basics

Makes: 4 generous servings
Prep: 15 minutes • Cook: 35 minutes
Total: 55 minutes, including rest
Equipment: Deep 12-inch skillet with tight lid

What goes in

• 1 1/4 lb boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into 1-inch pieces
• 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
• 1 small onion, diced
• 1 cup uncooked long-grain white rice, not instant
• 2 cups low-sodium chicken broth
• 12 oz frozen broccoli florets
• 3/4 cup shredded cheddar cheese

Before you start: A tight lid matters. Escaping steam leaves you with crunchy rice and an attitude.

What I do

1. Pat chicken dry and season with salt, garlic powder and pepper. Heat oil in the skillet over medium-high heat. Brown chicken for 4-5 minutes, turning once. It will finish cooking with the rice.
2. Add onion and cook 2 minutes, stirring. Add rice and broth, scraping the bottom to loosen the browned bits. Bring to a simmer.
3. Cover, reduce heat to low and cook 15 minutes without lifting the lid. Spread frozen broccoli over the top, quickly replace the lid and cook 8-10 minutes more.
4. Check that the rice is tender and chicken pieces reach 165°F. If rice is firm and the pan is dry, add 1/4 cup hot water, cover and cook 3-5 minutes longer. If it's too wet, simmer uncovered briefly.
5. Turn off heat, fold in cheese and let stand covered for 5 minutes. Stir gently and serve.

Make it yours and put it away

Make it work: Use fresh broccoli cut into small florets; add after the first 15 minutes. Brown rice isn't a direct swap because it needs longer cooking and more liquid.

Save money: Buy family-pack thighs, portion them and freeze what you won't use within 1-2 days.

Keep it: Put leftovers into shallow containers and refrigerate within 2 hours. Use in 3-4 days and reheat to 165°F. Cooked rice needs prompt refrigeration just as much as the chicken does.

SHIT I THROW IN ONE PAN / RECIPE 09

Black Bean and Sweet Potato Taco Skillet

I can eat a meal without meat. I promise the contractor license doesn't fall out of my wallet.

The important question is whether I'm still hungry afterward. Sweet potatoes and two cans of beans take that question seriously. The cheese doesn't hurt either. Put the whole business in a tortilla and it's a decent supper that happens to let the meat department keep its prices to itself for one evening.

Cut the sweet potatoes small. A big chunk will sit in the skillet refusing to soften while everything around it is ready to go. I've worked with people like that. No reason to invite one to dinner.

The basics

Makes: 4 servings
Prep: 15 minutes • Cook: 25 minutes
Total: 40 minutes
Equipment: Deep 12-inch skillet with lid

What goes in

• 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
• 1 1/2 lb sweet potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch cubes
• 1 medium onion, diced
• 1 tablespoon chili powder
• 1 teaspoon ground cumin
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, with juices
• 1/2 cup water, plus more if needed
• 2 cans (15 oz each) black beans, drained and rinsed
• 1 cup frozen corn
• 1/2 cup shredded cheddar cheese
• 8 small flour tortillas, about 6-inch, for serving

Before you start: Keep the sweet potato cubes small and even. Their cooking time runs the show here.

What I do

1. Heat oil in the skillet over medium heat. Add sweet potatoes and onion. Cook 5 minutes, stirring occasionally.
2. Stir in chili powder, cumin and salt for 30 seconds. Add tomatoes with their juices and 1/2 cup water. Scrape the bottom, bring to a simmer and cover.
3. Reduce heat to medium-low and cook 12-15 minutes, stirring every few minutes, until the sweet potatoes are nearly tender. Add water a few tablespoons at a time if the pan begins to dry out.
4. Add beans and corn. Cover and simmer 5-7 minutes more until sweet potatoes are fully tender and beans and corn are hot. Mash a few beans against the side of the pan if you want a thicker sauce.
5. Sprinkle with cheese, cover and turn off the heat. Let stand 2 minutes. Warm tortillas according to the package and serve two per person alongside the skillet filling.

Make it yours and put it away

Make it work: Pinto beans can replace black beans. Use Monterey Jack instead of cheddar. For a dairy-free supper, omit cheese and check the tortillas.

Stretch it: Serve over cooked rice instead of tortillas, using about 3/4 cup cooked rice per person. Cook rice separately according to its package.

Keep it: Refrigerate filling within 2 hours for 3-4 days. Reheat to 165°F. Freeze filling without tortillas up to 3 months for best quality.

← Previous chapter | All chapters | Next chapter →