Sad Sack Cooking Show #2: BBQ Turkey Kielbasa and Buttered Potatoes

Hello again, friends and strangers and strangers-soon-to-be-friends and Mom, and welcome to the second Sad Sack cooking show. Sigh.

"Tonight's meal for 200, Alex!"
"What do you create when you're a) nearly broke b) cold c) lonely d) out of hope that your thighs will ever look the way they once did?"
"What is THIS RECIPE, Alex?"
"Correct! And stop calling me Alex!"

You will need:
+ I package Turkey Kielbasa (I'm using Aldi's brand)
+ BBQ sauce (roughly a cup, but I like it saucaaay. Sweet Baby Ray's)
+ Four to five good sized potatoes
+ Margarine or butter
+ Spices, to taste (ex. salt, pepper, onion and garlic powder, red pepper flakes)
+ Some veggie side to keep your insides from crying and make it look like you're not about to eat your weight in potatoes
+ Whatever shreds of motivation you have left in you for the day
(If you're out of motivation, grab a Pop Tart and crawl into bed. I won't judge)

Yummy?

Gather your ingredients, and remove the packaging from the kielbasa. Don't think about what it looks like. Or what's in it. Or how your insides will probably look like what's in it, when all is said and done. Maybe you should skip this whole thing and eat tofu instead. Press on.

Do they remind anyone else of toes? No? Good!

Chop your kielbasa into small pieces. Toss into a pan on roughly medium heat. I sprayed mine with a non-stick olive oil spray. The kielbasa doesn't need to be fried in oil, you're really just warming and searing it - but something very light to keep it from sticking is a good idea.

I got my EYES on YOU, fellas! Get it? No? Ok.

As your kielbasa is starting to cook, put a small pot of water on to boil - just enough to cover your potatoes once chopped. Wash and peel your potatoes. Mmmm, potatoes. Sorry, thighs! You did yoga once this week, so. It'll be ok? Keep an eye on the sausage to make sure it's not sticking or burning or trying to organize a kitchen revolt against your bad food choices. Get back in there, cilantro - nobody asked you!

I mean it, Cilantro. Unless you want to go the way of the 'tato, back in the fridge.

Chop the peeled potatoes into small pieces. Think mashed potato prep. Whisper apologetically to the starchy demons (and your figure) as you hack them to bits. Watch your fingers. Put them in the water once it's boiling or near boiling. You'll want to cook until fork-tender, but it shouldn't be mush. Let's set that timer for 10-12 minutes. Or whatever.

"The Sauce is the Boss", huh? I've been living life all wrong.

Now the kielbasa should be good and warm and a little brown on the edges. Add in your sauce. See how mine says it's the Boss? I don't think so, Ray! I'm the only boss here! TAKING CONTROL!
Ok, fine, you win. I submit to your saucy will. More sauce.

Sticky goodness that definitely won't make you feel bloated later.

Sprinkle in your spices. Make sure it compliments whatever sauce you've chosen. "You're so pretty, Sauce Boss Ray. I bet all the other sauces want to go to the soda fountains with YOU". I added red pepper flakes as my sauce didn't have much heat. Like my love life. Never mind. Give it a toss and let it continue to cook down. You want the sauce to caramelize, but you don't want it to char or boil or burn or try to achieve world domination. Mine tried to run for office. Wily.

I call this one "Wherefore art thou, Paula Deen?"

Once the potatoes are fork-tender, which is a fun culinary phrase and or celebrity child name I have dibs, drain them. Return them to the pan, and turn the heat to simmer (or low, or still-as-hot-as- medium-high-but-marked-low like my ancient demon of a stove. Add in your margarine, salt and pepper. If you have to ask how much margarine, you didn't add enough. Stir gently, you don't want to mash the potatoes. They've been through enough.

The almost balanced peace sign of mediocre mealness.

Now you're ready to plate. Put extra green beans, or extra whatever your veggie of choice to suffer through today is, on your plate to offset the fact that you're going to eat twice as many potatoes as any human ever needs to eat. Enjoy.

Thanks for reading, gang. Mom. Nobody.

What should next week's meal be?

#1: Coconut milk chicken curry
#2: Spicy pork fajitas
#3: Family sized can of Chef Boyardee Ravioli seasoned heavily with tears

Leave your choice in the comments below, or tweet me -@lakiki #sadsackcookingshow

<3 K

Sad Sack Cooking Show #1: Red pepper & kale omelette

OM-E-LETTE YOU FINISH - but I already used this pun on Facebook. I'm a great writer!

Welcome to the Sad Sack cooking show. Are you disappointed at where you are in life? Me, too. So let's make breakfast together, while examining our poor life choices. Fun!

Unrelated question: Is 9:30 too early to drink? I'm sure MyHarto would say "No! No, it's not!" Go watch "My Drunk Kitchen". Later. For now, let's just cook! Or whatever. You're out of wine anyway.

On today's menu:

 le Omelette with red bell peppers and kale, with a side of delicious self-loathing!

...JUST LIKE EVERY MEAL! YUM!

Step 1:

Go to bed in a depressed mood, and wake up that way. If you're going to be a downer, stick with it! That's called dedication! Say it with me, kids! Ded-i-what does it matter anymore, anyway, I'm a failure.

*pause*

So go cook something with cheese in it? That's a good idea!

Step 2:

Decide to make a healthy breakfast, in case vitamins can magically make your poor choices and lack of resolve into a magic band-aid for everything you're doing wrong in your life! (Spoilers they won't tell you at Whole Foods or on Rachel Ray: they can't! WOO!)


Step 3: Assemble the Avengers Ingredients, and make your own omelette station! Hi, creepy sponge! At least someone's smiling! You heartless bastard.

Today we have: Margarine, eggs, milk, cheese, red & orange bell pepper, kale, turkey bacon, salt, pepper and onion powder. Seasoning things like a damn adult, up in here! Positivity!

Step 4: Melt your fake butter in a skillet over medium heat, and crack some eggs in a bowl! Break them! BREAK THEM, LIKE LIFE HAS BROKEN YOU.

Step 5: Reaffirm your desire to make the omelette, and then keep making said omelette anyway. Add a tiny splash of milk, and try not to mess it up while taking a picture of it like the blogging idiot you are. Retype omelette like eight times, because Blogger doesn't recognize the word. Google it, due to your crippling self-doubt. Yes, you won the school spelling bee in seventh grade - but it's all been down hill since then, hasn't it?

Step 6: Rally, and try to be positive. Look at that! Milk in eggs! Good job, you! Now, beat them. BEAT THEM. But be happy about it. Try singing the eggs song!

Your cooking skills and your beauty are only out-matched by your ability to write a moving lyrical masterpiece.

Step 7: Stop lying to yourself, and add your seasonings because you forgot them before beating. Great job. Pour the eggs into the melted butter in your pan.

Step 8: Congratulate yourself on your progress thus far. Good pour, self! Nicely done!

Step 9: Wash your veggies. Admire their glistening flesh. Think about how long it's been since you felt actual human contact. Realize one pepper is moldy, despite being in a new package, and consider that a metaphor for your love life. Cry as you throw the pepper away.

Goodbye, pepper. It's not you, it's me. Maybe in another life, we coulda made it. Here's lookin at you, kid.

Step 10: Give your remaining bell pepper and a washed handful of kale a rough chop. Hear your Mother's voice in your head, "You're gonna chop those fingers right off!" Almost chop your finger off. Survive.

Step 11:  Add the veggies to your cooking egg mixture, once it looks as though it's 3/4ths of the way firm. Pause to think about the cutting board, stained red and green. Think about Christmas. Stop thinking about Christmas, because the holidays can be hard for everyone. Think about the Joker. Miss Heath Ledger. Press on through the tears.

Step 12: Add cheese, because you deserve it. Well, you don't, but add it anyway because cheese is delicious in eggs. Even though I don't think you can consider American singles to actually be cheese.

Yum, plastic-y! Let it melt.

Step 13: Realize you used the wrong pan, and it's sticking. Realize that this is way too big an omelette for your poor flipping skills, and that you're making a mess of it.

Step 14: BE NICE TO YOURSELF, because ok. This isn't freaking Denny's. You've not getting paid to do this. And even Denny's says "Make Your Own Pancakes" on the sign. Really, Denny's? I have to come to you...to make my own pancakes? Great customer service! Maybe DENNY'S needs an attitude adjustment, ever think of that? You're going to cut this into pieces anyway - what's it matter if it's not perfect?

I bet it tastes great, anyway.

Step 15: Plate it, add ketchup and hot sauce - because you always do, no matter how tasty the dish is - you silly thing, you - and enjoy. Because you did well, and you deserve it, and you're going to have a great day.

Even if it kills you.



Bonus content: Bacon song fail! The poor turkey bacon was forgotten until after the meal. It had seemed important at the time. But it just wasn't meant to be. It's not you, turkey bacon...it's...well. Maybe it is you, after all.

Disclaimer: Some of the negativity may have been exaggerated. The food was still pretty delicious. Also, I take no issue with Denny's...I haven't been there in ages, but I'm sure they're all very nice people. I'd love to come over and make my own pancakes at your fine establishment, any time. Maybe we could hold show #2 there! Guys? Why are you running? 


What dish should the Sad Sack cooking show tackle next? Comment, and let me know!