So I heard this news story about a really stupid burglar.

In eastern Pennsylvania the other day, this guy apparently broke into a house, ransacked the place, then, in a fit of personal grooming, cut his own hair and took a shower. But that’s not all. Next, neatly coiffed and shower fresh, he snapped on the TV and fried some chicken.

I mean, how stupid I that?  Any savvy thief knows you don’t fry chicken at your crime scene.  You’ve gotta pick a simpler, less time-consuming recipe for mid-robbery dining. If you go with the fried, you’ve got the buttermilk soak, the bread crumbs, the hot oil with it’s irritating splatter, too much time and mess. OF COURSE you’ll be sitting there watching Jay Leno (or Conan–who can keep track?) waiting for your dinner to crisp evenly when the burglaree comes home and busts your ass, which is exactly what happened to Mr. Make-yourself-at-home, the dumb felon. I’ll bet he still needed at least another ten minutes on those drumsticks when the cops cuffed him.

If I’d been in the thief’s shoes, I’d have made some quick ‘n easy grilled chicken cutlets. I mean, it’s nice to marinate them, but you can cut that to a few minutes in special circumstances such as a heist. They’re gorgeous in eight minutes, then you slap ‘em between somd bread slices and get the hell out of Pennsylvania.

Burglar’s Chicken

2 skinless, boneless chicken breasts, halved

2 tablespoons olive oil

2 tablespoons fresh chopped rosemary

1 shallot, minced

1 clove garlic, minced

½ tsp bay seasoning

¼ teaspoon salt and freshly ground pepper to taste.

1. Cut the chicken breasts in half horizontally to make thin cutlets. Place the pieces on a plate in a single layer.

2. Combine the oil, rosemary, shallot, garlic bay seasoning and aslt and pepper and pour the mixture evenly over the chicken. Let it marinate in the fridge for an hour or so unless you are in mid-robbery, in which case, just cook the suckers.

3. Cook the chicken in a skillet or grill pan over medium heat until browned on both sides, 6-8 minutes total.  Sprinkle the chicken lightly with salt and pepper and serve.

Serves 4, or one very hungry burglar.

Being of Scottish descent, I figure it’s my duty to do what other Scots do and celebrate Robert Burns’s birthday on Jan. 25^th with a meal that includes haggis.

For those of you who don’t know what haggis is (or if you once knew but put it out of your mind because it was too gross to contemplate), it’s, well, you take a sheep’s stomach (that would be a dead sheep), stuff it with  that same sheep’s chopped up heart, lungs and liver, and steam the whole thing for an hour. (Yes, I know.)

If you find this recipe off-putting (you wuss!), but would like to honor Mr. Burns in the traditional fashion, Heritage Foods is offering a modern, less, um, gutsy type of haggis, made with beef shoulder and liver, onion, seasonings and beef suet. It’s on sale now. (I guess they overstocked, expecting more haggis-huggers to surface for the celebration.)  Click here to investigate.

But before you purchase, consider this poem which has been attributed to Burns himself:

In honor of my birthday, friends,

You’ll pay a lot of bucks,

To eat a bunch of sheepish guts.

Don’t do it: haggis sucks.

I’ve often used the expression, “once in a blue moon” but never knew its origin. I only knew that it implied infrequency, as in, “My husband cooks only once in a blue moon,” a complaint I have made a thousand times.

When I heard that there would be an actual blue moon on this past New Year’s Eve, I did a little research. Now I know: a blue moon is the second of two full moons in one month, and you only get one about every two and a half years.

I told Tom about this, and suggested that since we were having a blue moon, it might be a fitting time for him to cook dinner. This led to a discussion of his cooking repertoire, a list which includes only cream cheese and olive sandwiches, tuna melts, grilled hamburgers, and Campbell’s soup. He also claims to be proficient at scrambling eggs (although I’ve never seen him do it) and he admits that, as a bachelor, he was able to cook chicken in the oven, a practice he gave up the minute we exchanged vows. (I didn’t realize that when I said, “I do,” it was short for “I do the cooking.”) His recipe is as follows:

“Oh, you know, you just put the chicken in a pan and stick it in the oven until it’s done.”

Salt? Pepper? “Nah.”

Oven temperature? “I don’t know, medium, I guess.”

Cooking time? “Like I said, till it’s done.”

He did not end up cooking on New Year’s Eve, and, I’m happy to say, neither did I. But the next day, when I was making grilled chicken, I thought, this is a good bacherlor’s recipe: minimum effort required. Maybe I’ll get Tom to cook it for me, next time there’s a blue moon.

½ cup lemon juice

¼ cup mustard

1 tablespoons chopped fresh thyme (or rosemary)

1 tablespoon olive oil (plus extra for the grill pan)

½ teaspoon salt

Freshly ground black pepper

4 chicken breasts, skinned, boned and split in half

1. In a bowl large enough to hold all the chicken, combine the lemon juice, mustard, thyme, oil, salt and pepper. Add the chicken breasts and turn them so they’re coated on all sides with the marinade. Cover the chicken and marinate it in the refrigerator for 1-4 hours.

2. About thirty minutes before you’re ready to serve the chicken, lightly oil a grill pan and heat it over medium heat. When the pan is hot, grill the chicken for about 7-8 minutes on each side, or until the juices run clear.

Serves eight, or 4 today and 4 tomorrow.

Okay, I’m invited back to the Christmas cookie party I went to last year, and I’m finding that my anxiety level about which recipe to cook up for the event has decreased in 2009. This is because I have, in my pocket, a fab recipe for almond logs, which is my golden ticket.

I will also note that this cookie party could never be thrown by employees of Goldman Sachs. I just heard that G.S. has told its employees they are not allowed to host holiday parties for more than twelve people, lest they further irritate the already livid mob who are sick of seeing the G.S.-ers getting and spending lavish bonuses and otherwise whooping it up.

Bring some almond logs to your holiday party that will be neither hosted nor  attended by bankers, who will be home eating gruel instead, and, if they know what’s good for them,  stuffing stockings with coal.

Almond Logs

¾ cup almonds

1 stick butter

1 teaspoon vanilla

¼ cup sugar

¼ cup flour

6 ounces white chocolate, broken into small pieces

Preheat the oven to 325º F.

Process the almonds in a food processor until finely ground. Set aside.

Using a hand mixer, beat the butter and sugar together until well blended. Stir in the vanilla and the nuts. Add the flour and stir until well combined.

Shape the dough into about 24 small logs, about 2 ½ inches long and ¾ inch thick. Place them on a parchment-lined baking sheet and bake for about twenty minutes, until they are just turning golden. Let them cool for five minutes, then place them on a rack until they are completely cool.

Melt the chocolate pieces in a double boiler over hot (not boiling) water. When the chocolate is melted, dip one end of each log in it, to coat about half the cookie. Place the cookies on wax paper until the chocolate has set. (You can refrigerate to set the chocolate faster.)

Eat ‘em.

Yield: about 24 cookies.

My friend Suzanne is one lucky bitch.

She recently sent me an email, which began, “Tonight Adam and his buddies are making the following meal for themselves.”

Okay, I had to pause there for a second. Adam is Suzanne’s fifteen year-old son, just so you know, so already I was choking with envy: I have thus far never had the opportunity to write a sentence like that regarding my own children. Plus, aren’t teenage boys supposed to be out zooming around on motorcycles, rebelling without a cause? What’s up with this?

It gets worse. Here’s what Adam and friends were making: “Sweet potato and plantain soup with smoked chile crème and fried plantain, Cotija-crusted quesadillas with basil, red chilis and charred corn relish, pan-roasted pork chops with yellow pepper mole sauce, and warm chocolate cake with dulce de leche.”

Okay, so at this point, I was really irked. Not only was Suzanne’s son cooking dinner, it was a gourmet one, including an ingredient I had to Google: Cotija. (It’s a cheese. Who knew?)

How did Suzanne get so lucky? Was it nature or nurture? Did Adam just get the Emeril gene or did Suzanne give him cooking utensils as crib toys? Whatever the answer is, I fear it’s too late for me. My kids are older than Adam, gone to college,  and on their rare visits home they show no signs of using a spatula for anything but a fly swatter. Just recently in fact, when Elizabeth was home, I asked if she’d like to learn how to make chicken curry. I hyped it as a simple but exotic recipe, good for novice cooks, but she wandered off  to watch TV just as I was extolling the virtues of coconut milk. (How can a kid who hates cooking be so obsessed with Top Chef?)

If you can rope your teenager into cooking dinner, I envy you. If you can’t, try this recipe yourself. It has no ingredients you have to Google.

3 tablespoons butter, divided

2 tablespoons olive oil

Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper

2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts, halved

1 large onion, chopped

1 tablespoon curry powder

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 14-ounce can diced tomatoes

¾ cup coconut milk*

1. In a large skillet, melt two tablespoons of the butter together with one tablespoon of oil over medium-low heat. Sprinkle the chicken breasts lightly with salt and pepper and cook about 7-8 minutes on each side, until they are browned and cooked through.

2. Wipe out the pan and add the remaining tablespoons of butter and oil. When the butter is melted, add the onion and cook until it is tender, about ten minutes. Add the garlic and curry powder and cook for another minute. Add the tomatoes and and cook until their liquid is reduced and the sauce thickens, 4-5 minutes.

3. Add the coconut milk to the pan and stir to combine it well with the other ingredients.

Add ¼ teaspoon each of salt and pepper, or to taste. Return the chicken breasts to the pan and cook them for two minutes or so, just to heat them through.

Serve the curry with rice.

Serves four.

Its very hard to get Thanksgiving-y in LA when it looks like August outside. Nature, in her recent whackedness, has been randomly eliminating the few seasonal changes we are supposed to have here. LA is just all hot and fire-scorched, relentlessly sunny.  For those of us who are used to a Thanksgiving that is cold and smells like wet leaves, it just doesn’t feel right.

I just went to NYC where I saw turkey-shaped cookies at E.A.T. and it was fifty degrees and rainy for two days (just SO November). Everyone kept complaining about the weather except me. I was all chirpy: “I am SO happy to see rain! To wear a scarf!” I’d say, alienating all the damp New Yorkers within hearing distance.

I went back to LA determined that, while nature continues to work out her issues, I’m cooking autumnal food anyway, in an (irritable) attempt to act like we are having a proper autumn. Hence this Apple Celery Soup.  Eat this soup and, even if you live in the town of the endless summer, it might make you feel Thanksgiving-y.

2 tablespoons butter

½ large onion, chopped (about ½ cup)

1 teaspoon dried sage

½ teaspoon dried thyme

½ teaspoon dried marjoram

½ teaspoon kosher salt

¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1 pinch ground cloves

1 cup chopped celery (about 2-3 stalks)

1 ½ cups peeled, chopped Fuji apple (1 ½-2 apples)

2  cups chicken broth

¼ cup crème fraiche (optional)

In a soup pot, melt the butter over low heat. Add the onion, the herbs,  salt and pepper and cloves and cook slowly, stirring occasionally, until the onion is very soft and translucent, about 15 minutes.

Add the celery, stir and cook five minutes, stirring once or twice. Add the apples and cook, stirring, for two minutes, then add the broth. Bring the soup to a simmer and cook until the apple and celery are tender, 15-20  minutes or so. Puree the soup in batches and serve with a spoonful of crème fraiche if you like.

If you lie in LA, close the shades, put on gloves and a scarf  to enhance the illusion that it is a day when such a soup is appropriate.

Nowadays, my children are too old for trick-or-treating. They still obsess over their costumes, which have grown increasingly sexy over the years (you won’t see any teenage girl wearing a sheet). They gather for parties, driving themselves, no longer in need of parental participation in the Halloween rituals.My friends and I, although saddened that, for us, this fabulous holiday is no longer kid-centric, all do the adult thing: we make our own Halloween party  and drink martinis. I always dress in my (menopause-appropriate) witch costume. I dust off my black hat, put on some scary shoes and a bad attitude, and, bearing a broom as a hostess gift, I go off into the night, to my friend Lynn’s. Lynn decorates the bejeezus out of her house, and serves a wicked Witch Martini.Here’s how to make it:2 Tbls. gin1 Tbls. dry vermouth2 Tbls. olive juice2 olives2 eyeballs, preferably fake1. Decorate a cocktail shaker with cobwebs, fake spiders, etc.2. Put a little water, an ice cube and an eyeball in a each of a couple of cocktail glasses, and stick ‘em in the freezer.3. Shake up the gin, vermouth, olives and olive juice, say three or four good shakes, in your witchy shaker. Take the glasses out of the freezer and pour that martini.Variation: If you prefer, you can substitute worms for the eyeballs, although this may alter the favor, not necessarily in a good way.Note: Try not to drink too much or you might say something insulting to a friend who is costumed as Sarah Palin.Extra note: If you haven’t yet read about the consequences of serving popcorn balls to trick-or-treaters, click here.

Even a marshmallow-hater like me cannot resist these awesome bites from Sees. They are caramel and marshmallow, layered and dipped in dark chocolate, and i defy you to tell me you don’t like them. They are going on my Christmas gift list, for everyone I know who has not been initiated..

So, as I told you in another post, I’ve got a zucchini the size of a Weinermobile in my kitchen.It’s a little bit frightening; it’s a monster. It weighs four pounds, ten ounces, more than my nephew weighed at birth. You could use it as a neck roller, or to clobber a thief or hit a softball. Add some detailing (a couple of olive eyeballs, a red pepper grin), and this vegetable would scare kids on Halloween. But I opted to chop it to pieces and make zucchini chowder.

I half expected the monster to rear up and bite me when I cut through that 4-inch diameter. (Luckily, this did not happen.) Inside, I found some gnarly seeds, so I dug out the little buggers and planted them so I can gift friends with monsters next year. (Actually, I contemplated planting them. If the spirit moves me, I will take the next step and actually commit them to the earth, but this may not happen as I am rather lazy.)

I chopped up a few cups of zuke, I gathered some potatoes and an onion, and a couple of blanched ears of corn leftover from a dinner I served to carbo-phobes the night before. A little broth, a little cream, and a little basil (which I actually did plant myself), and I had it going on.

Now what the hell do I do with the remaining 3 pounds of zucchini?

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 medium-sized, sweet onion, chopped

2 Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and cut into ¾-inch chunks

4 cups chopped Monster Zucchini

½ teaspoon kosher salt

¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

3 cups chicken broth

¼ cup cream

Kernels scraped from 2 ears of blanced corn (or two cups frozen corn)

2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley

1′4 cup chopped fresh basil

½ cup freshly grated Reggiano-Parmagiana cheese

Melt the butter with the oil in a large saucepan or soup pan over medium low heat. Add the onion and cook until translucent and soft, about ten minutes. Stir in the potatoes and cook for about two minutes. Add the zucchini and cook for another two minutes, stirring a few times. Add the salt and pepper, and then pour in the broth, raise the heat slightly and bring the soup to a simmer. Cook until the vegetables are tender, about fifteen minutes.

Puree the soup in a food processor and return to the pot, adding a little more broth if you like a thinner soup. Add the corn and the cream, return the soup to a simmer and cook for two minutes. Stir in the herbs and adjust the seasonings. Serve hot, sprinkled with the cheese.

Okay, so Tuesday I posted something on my Blahblahblog about the Oscar Meyer Weinermobile and then Wednesday, there it was: a piece I the New York Times Dining section about…Oscar Meyer. I know, I’m prescient, right? OMG.

Specifically the article was about the dozens of hotdogueros (hot dog vendors) in Tuscon, who sell Sonoran-style hot dogs, which are wrapped in bacon before grilling. Supposedly the bacon dog was invented by our pal Oscar, back in the fifties, in an attempt to sell more of his piggy product. Somehow, Mexicans picked up on this idea, and it evolved into a thing Mexican-Americans call their own: a bacon-wrapped dog topped with beans, chopped tomatoes, salsa verde and a squirt of mayo.

Okay, I had to try this, and I felt it was essential to make it in Oscar’s honor, so I bought his brand of wieners and bacon, which frankly (pun intended), I never do. (I’m with my friend Jean, who says Hebrew National is the way to go.)

Of course the result was a thing of beauty—hot dog, bacon, what’s not to like? I was too lazy to make beans or to procure salsa verde but I did make guacamole and added a little chopped tomato just to cozy up to the Sonoran version. If I had been slightly more energetic and if it wasn’t 103º I might have cooked up some onions and jalapenos to add to the mess. I might have rolled the whole thing in a tortilla, too, but then I would not have been able to take the picture featured here, which I could not resist taking before I applied the toppings.

Sorta Sonoran-style Hot Dogs

4 hot dogs

8 pieces of bacon

2 plum tomatoes, large-diced

½ teaspoon minced garlic

2 tablespoons finely chopped cilantro

Salt and pepper

4 hot dog buns (or 4 8-inch flour tortillas, wrapped in foil and warmed in a 300º oven for ten minutes).

1 cup guacamole

1. Wrap each hot dog, candy-cane style, in bacon, using 1 ½-2 slices per hot dog. Fry the wrapped dogs in a non-stick frying pan over medium-low heat, turning frequently, until the bacon is very crisp.

2. Meanwhile, combine the tomatoes, garlic and cilantro and a sprinkle of salt and pepper in a small bowl. When the hot dogs are ready, place them on buns (or on tortillas). Top with a scoop of guacamole, and a spoonful of the tomato mixture.  (If you’re using tortillas, roll them up at this point.) Eat.