There’s a market not too far from me that carries banh mi sandwiches. It used to be just Tuesdays and maybe one other day, but they’re stocked every time I’m there, which isn’t always a Tuesday.

They’re not the finest banh mi – that would require real roast pork slices, and a long time ago, the market sold those very sandwiches, with rich, red, crusty slices of roast pork, ruffles of cilantro, incendiary slices of small Vietnamese peppers, thick, high-quality mayo, tomato slices, cucumber and carrot shreds. Instead, this banh mi uses some kind of ham-like matter and what I call Vietnamese bologna. A sliced-from-a-roll,  smooth textured lunch meat that I’ve seen for sale only once, understandably.

It’s worth speculating on how many aspects of a sandwich you can degrade and still maintain the sandwich’s desirability. This one still makes the cut, but barely.

The sandwich price seems to change occasionally, or for me anyway. That’s the MO of the market. On three visits, the item I’m holding is somehow, so-mysteriously mismarked with a price that’s to low by up to 50 cents.  “That price mark wrong,” the owner will say. And a higher price is mentioned. Once I naively paid it. Another time I paid it, knowing I was being overcharged, but the item (white peppercorns? coconut milk?) still cost much less than in a conventional grocery. And once I put the item back on the shelf.

It’s not against the law, what the store is doing. Chicanery, yes. Illegal, no. There’s a long, fine tradition of special Anglo pricing. Now that I’ve figured out what’s going on, I confirm the price of everything before I get to the register. Or I am prepared to put it back  on the shelf.

Why do I go there? Because it feels so good when I leave.

A friend’s apple tree was loaded down this year, so we took home a bag of homegrown, organic apples. Thank you Carole! Sure they were a little mis-shapen and a couple had split places, but that’s no problem. We were planning on applesauce.

At the same time, we were asked to bring a healthy snack to a group lesson. So we bought apples at a large chain grocery store. In keeping with this well-known store’s approach to food, they were the worst apples you can imagine being sold in a first-world big name supermarket.

At the height of apple season, with apples practically falling into our hands from the branches, the store located a stash of last year’s brown, beat-up, soft apples and put them out for sale for about $5.70 a bag. The nerve. But I was running late and in need — they really count on that.

It’s not an isolated incident. There are many such insults, both to customer and food. Don’t get me started — but if you’ve got an anecdote, I’m collecting them.

Anyway, the “crapples” were not popular with the kids, so most of them came home. We cut out the bad parts, then cooked them in the pressure cooker for about 10 minutes with the nice homegrown apples. Then we put the mush through a food mill to remove the seeds, skins and stems. I only use the food mill for apples and persimmons, so it doesn’t see a lot of use. Still, only a food mill does what it does, so I gladly grant it cabinet real estate.

I cooked the mixture with lemon juice, sugar and a cinnamon stick until it reached just the right thickness. Homemade applesauce has a slightly different texture than store-bought, but it’s a little silkier, and tastes better. I would have taken a picture of it, but it’s one of those “looks bad, tastes good” goods — you probably have one of those, too.

Not in a long time have I done so much cooking and had so little to show for it as last night. You know the feeling?

It was just a tuna loin and my neighbor’s Watermelon Curry Sauce. On the table in 20 minutes, right? I’ll start it around 6, we’ll eat around 6:30, right? What can possibly go wrong?

By 8, I’d cooked almost everything in the kitchen except for the entree. Instant pudding for dessert. Torta Freddo Gianduia for a more elaborate dessert because, dear friends, you understand, I was desperate for chocolate. Edamame. Cumin-lime slaw. Watermelon Curry Sauce. A hot dog. A baked potato. Carrot sticks.

But not the tuna loin. Because, you see, it was an eye of round that looked like a tuna loin masquerading as an eye of round. It started life as an eye of round from K&S Market. It had been in the freezer for two months and I had forgotten what it was. It had a seafood label. It looked like a big tuna loin. At $7, it seemed a little cheap for tuna loin, but then, K&S has 1 pound of picked lump crabmeat for $10, so why not a $7 tuna loin?

It thawed slowly in the meat drawer, becoming nicely translucent with a promising rich red texture. My neighbor shared a watermelon curry sauce she stumbled across in Belize this year.

I was about 1 hour into cooking at this point, and had made just about everything else. I had a sit-down for a while. Then I fed Sweet Cheeks (it was pretty late by this time) and my other neighbor dropped by during her evening walk. The tuna was at room temperature, so I unwrapped it and prepared to cut it into steaks.

I haven’t seen a tuna with this much blood, I thought. And then the last wrapping came off and the impostor was unmasked: a beef eye of round. Big Fella offered to go purchase an entree. As you can imagine, he was ready to eat, and despite all the cooking, there was still not one damn thing for grown-ups to eat except a few stray edamame.

Fortunately a pound of thawed squid tubes was in the meat drawer. Squid tubes in the fridge doesn’t really register on the strange-meter in my kitchen, but my neighbor almost fell off the stool. (Note to self when among earthlings: Squid = not normal).

We made lime-garlic broiled squid. It was fine but not a good pairing for the Watermelon Curry Sauce, which made me sad. But there’s always a next time, another tilapia or tuna. And fortunately there was Torta Freddo Gianduia to redeem what was left of the day.

Watemelon Curry Sauce
My neighbor never makes it the same way twice and never uses a recipe, so I’m giving the amounts that worked for me.
3 to 5 cups chopped watermelon
1 teaspoon yellow curry powder
2 tablespoons butter
Puree the watermelon and pour it into a saucepan. Simmer until it is somewhat reduced, about 15 minues. Strain it into a bowl. It will be clear and smell like cooked cucumbers at this point, but have faith. Discard the solids. Clean the pan. Return the watermelon juice to the pan. Simmer until reduced and thickened somewhat. Add the curry powder and mix well. Add the butter and simmer until thick. Makes enough for two tuna steaks.

Torta Freddo Gianduia
This recipe has been in my “to try” notebook for years and years until now. It came from the Simple Cooking newsletter in the mid-1990s. It’s really just nuts and cookies folded into fudge and I imagine a PMS-y Italian cook made it up.

2 1/2 ounces (squares) unsweetened chocolate
1 large egg
1 egg yolk
1/2 cup sugar
Pinch of salt
5 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup toasted skinned hazelnuts
4 ounces crushed Danish butter cookies
Grate or chop the chocolate. Combine the egg, yolk, sugar and salt in a mixer or food processor. Beat for about 5 minutes. Stir in the chocolate.
Melt the butter in the top of a double boiler set over simmering water. When it’s all melted, Remove the top of the double boiler. Beat in the chocolate mixture. Return the top of the boiler. Cook the mixture over simmering water, stirring occasionally, until it is thick enough that a spoon dragged through it leaves a trail that lasts for several seconds. Remove the whole thing from the heat. Fold the nuts and cookies into the chocolate. Pour into a springform pan or tart pan with a removable bottom. Refrigerate for 1 hour to firm up. Cut into thin wedges. Makes 6 to 8 servings.

More fun with found shopping lists. I don’t see the point of numbering the list, unless you are gathering ammo for an argument. “I ran 15 errands today — and just how many did YOU run?” Or maybe it’s a compulsive person and the numbering somehow anchors the task in reality.

First things first: it’s the last sheet of paper on the house, so “new notebook.” Next item, which seems to be “coretta dot,” was procured triumphantly, and crossed off with a flourish. So was “trash can for kitchen.”

Then the list turns to resolute efficiency: Pledge - check. Kitchen cleaner - check. Light bulbs - check. Tie rack - check. ~ Hmm. New apartment? ~

Now which aisle has the “charger for hats”? Ah, yes. Toilet paper. Paper towels. Tra…

Dammit, I almost forgot the “chromium tail.” Need to get that before I forget — I’ll come back to this aisle for trash bags. It’s more important to have the “chromium tail. ” I’m sure ours will turn up eventually, when we unpack all the boxes. But I can’t really wait until then, so we’ll just have to get another.

Great, now just one thing left — a junk organizer. Done and off to the checkout. Seems like there was something I forgot. I can’t be bothered to go back for anything. I’m just ready to be home, listening to a little music, organizing the silverware and cleaning up the trash.

In search of innovative uses for the fourth weekly box of farm-raised organic greens, I pulled out one of my favorite cookbooks. Raghavan Iyer’s Turmeric Trail is a vivid picture of a working class Indian childhood, and the foods in the book are not like those in other Indian cookbooks. These are not the cream-enriched soups of the Raj or the rich lamb curries of your local restaurant. Instead, the book is about a spare but abundant childhood of his mother’s and grandmother’s frugal cooking: spiced onions made to stuff into a dimple of a rice ball, buttermilk curry, and potatoes in spices with just a tablespoon of split dried lentils for protein. There are meat and fish recipes in the book, but meat has never passed the man’s lips.

I know this because Iyer doesn’t live in a small house in India anymore — he’s in Minneapolis now, living downtown next door to my friend Melissa. They’re urban pioneers in tall, ancient houses in the shadow of the skyscrapers. The book is his attempt to describe his childhood in recipes.

Spiced Kale in Coconut Milk is along the lines of saag, while Chick Pea Flour Crepes (glycemic load: 27) are our latest discovery in the quest for a lower carb way to eat. The two make a fine, meatless meal that we look forward to having again. It almost, almost made us wish that greens season weren’t coming to an end.

Here’s the chickpea flour batter just before cooking. I must have accidentally pressed the Do Not Press button because the camera pouted and sulked and refused to take a picture of the finished meal. It looked pretty much like any mess o greens with corncakes, but it tasted way better.

Chick-Pea Flour Crepes
From The Turmeric Trail by Raghavan Iyer.

• 1 cup chick-pea flour (labeled gram or besan flour and found in Indian markets)
• 1/4 cup rice flour
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 teaspoon turmeric
• 1 cup water
• 1 teaspoon sambhar masal, optional
• Vegetable oil for the skillet

Combine the flours, salt, turmeric and water in a bowl. Beat until smooth. Let stand 15 minutes. Coat a crepe pan of 8-inch skillet with vegetable oil. Pour in 1/4 cup batter and quickly tilt the pan to spread the batter. Cook for 2 minutes until the top loses its gloss. Turn and cook the other side. Keep crepes warm in aluminum foil. They can be reheated without toughening. Makes 6 crepes.

Sambhar Masala
This mixture is hot, hot, hot with a deep, toasty flavor. It keeps in the freezer for 2 years — that’s how long mine has been there, and it still tastes great. I adapted it slightly from Raghavan Iyer’s version.

• 1/2 cup dried red Thai, serrano or cayenne chiles
• 3 tablespoons chana dal (yellow split peas) or urad dal (split black lentils)
• 1 teaspoon coriander seed
• 1 teaspoon fenugreek seed
• 1 teaspoon black peppercorns
• 1 teaspoon vegetable oil
• 1/2 teaspoon turmeric

Combine all of the ingredients except in a bowl and mix well to coat with the oil. Heat a small skillet over medium-high heat and add the spice mixture. Toasts, shaking the pan and stirring, for 3 to 4 minutes until the chiles blacken and the lentils are golden brown. Transfer to bowl or plate and let cool. Grind until the mixture has a texture like finely ground pepper. Keep in an airtight jar at room temperature for 2 months. or in the freezer up to 2 years.

Stewed Greens with Coconut Milk
Mustard seeds popped in oil taste and smell just like popcorn, and just a spoonful of them is enough to flavor a whole pot of greens. If you use spinach, just cook it from its raw state. If you choose a sturdier green like collards or kale, cook them to tenderness first. (15 minutes in pressure cooker)
10 ounces fresh spinach, or cooked kale or collards
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 teaspoon black mustard seeds
1 teaspoon sambhar masala
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup unsweetened coconut milk
1/2 cup water
Cook the greens first if using kale or collards. Heat the oil over medium-high heat in a medium saucepan. Add the mustard seeds and cover the pan. Pop them until the popping stops. Add the spinach a handful at a time and cook just until wilted (or add the cooked kale and collards all at once. Add the remaining ingredients cook, uncovered and stirring, for 3 to 4 minutes to blend the flavors. Makes a main dish for 2 or side dish for 4.

Writing from a foxhole here in the middle of what we call SuperWeek, the crazy two-week period at the end of the school year. Our calendar goes into overdrive in mid-May. Piano recital, last piano lesson, field day, school picnic, church picnic, choir finale, choir picnic, volunteer appreciation, teacher appreciation, graduation, confirmation, ice skating show, two family birthdays, Steeplechase, and Mothers Day. The latter is a big deal in our family — there are 11 sisters-in-law (plus a couple of exes), and more mothers than your average FDLS gathering. Between three of my sisters-in-law, we have 11 mothers. I personally have four.

The house has to be clean(ish), too, for the beloved old friends who come through town during this time to commemorate rituals with their own families. It guts me that I can only spend a harried hour or so with someone who was once a daily joy, or an exceptional friend, or someone who embodies a wonderful time during our lives.

The baking opportunities during SuperWeek are as numerous as the occasions. I slot in a quick batch of this or that when I can — it’s helpful to have a roll of homemade slice-and-bake cookies in the freezer, or a dozen mini muffins in a tin. And it seems like the least little nice thing to give a lemon bar to someone I love and miss.

Last week I volunteered to bring lemon bars to my friend Tricia’s Steeplechase gathering. I’ve gotten sort of jaded about these things — you make a homemade treat, take it somewhere, and everyone is avoiding carbs, so most of it goes back home. Or you labor over something different and interesting like homemade gingersnaps or macaroons, and everyone seems to prefer the Kroger sugar cookies.

Time being short on the morning of the race, I had to make a decision: wash hair or bake lemon bars? Is there even a choice when you’re likely to see people you haven’t seen in years? I mean this is my home town, and this is the South. I don’t even go to the grocery without lipstick – what if I run into an old neighbor or classmate? Then they’ll tell everyone, “Oh I saw her at the store — she was looking a little tired. And she’s put on weight.” I can’t really do anything about the weight, but I can wash my hair.

My tentmates kept saying, “I can’t believe you forgot to bake the lemon bars.” I replied, “Oh, I didn’t forget. I made a choice.” They were a little unhappy but they were nice about it. I’m sort of flattered that they were disappointed.

Sooooo …. I learned two things during SuperWeek. First of all, keep cooking — someone somewhere really appreciates it.

The second thing is more practical, and I learned it from my old cherished friend. You can prepare Six-Week Muffin batter, keep it in the fridge quite literally for six weeks and bake individual microwave muffins in just 2 minutes! Incredible on both counts. Everlasting batter, microwaveable muffins.

It’s almost Derby Day. It’s almost Mothers Day. It’s almost graduation, all important garlic-cheese grits occasions. I hear there’s a small stash of garlic cheese roll at the Apple market on Lebanon Road in Donelson, but that doesn’t help you if you’re in, say Maryland or Alabama.

This fuzzy photo shows the last known garlic cheese roll in captivity (click the link to read about the discontinued cheese roll).

If you reached this page looking for a substitute for Kraft Garlic Cheese roll, try this recipe I found on the Kraft chat boards. I modified it so the roll sizes match the Kraft 6-ounce roll. 

Garlic Cheese Rolls

1 1/2 pounds sharp cheddar cheese, grated

1/2 pound processed cheese product such as Velveeta

3 ounces cream cheese

1 teaspoon seasoned salt

Garlic powder to taste

Soften cheeses and mix all together well. Shape into six rolls and wrap securely in foil or plastic wrap.

Here’s what you need to make greens and cornbread for 200 people

1. A brother who volunteers to smoke 150 pounds of pork shoulder for a downtown transient service center that serves lunch to anyone who shows up.
2. A trip with that brother and his wallet to a food wholesaler. You need about 20 3-pound bags of frozen greens. Get a mixture of turnip greens, mustard greens and collards, because turnip greens by themselves are too astringent, collard greens are a little chewy, and mustard greens nearly melt away when cooked. (Don’t forget to take the tax-free letter if you have one.)
3. Four 5-pound boxes of Krusteaz white cornbread mix. Yes, the Krusteaz company is in the north. Yes it’s white cornbread, not yellow. Don’t let’s get huffy about it — if you prefer, buy four bags of Martha White cornbread mix. White is drier and better for with pot likker; yellow is more moist. White is fancier, yellow has more flavor. Y’all quit arguing about cornbread or I’ll stop this car.
4. If you do it the hard way, like I do, you only buy half as many frozen greens as you need. So you’ll also be going to a conventional grocery store for fifteen 2-pound cans of Glory seasoned greens and about 7 pounds of smoked ham hocks and a bottle of dried whole red peppers. (Note: Food Lion requires masses of paperwork to sell tax-free groceries.) If that fails, go back to the food wholesaler and buy equivalent canned greens.
5. A pressure cooker. Once you cook the hocks and hot pepper in some vegetable oil, the greens take only about 12 minutes to cook. It’s so fast that it takes the cooker longer to build to the right pressure than it does to cook the greens. It’s like flying to Memphis from Nashville — the plane spends longer taking off and landing than cruising.
6. An industrial kitchen or two plus
7. 
8. Four fantastically competent friends to help.
9. Some church people and real estate agents to help serve.
10. About 200 people willing to stand around in the rain waiting their turn for lunch.
11. A bunch of big garbage bags.
12. An industrial sink for washing all those pans.
13. A nap.

Huge news flash, Feb. 21, 2008 — well, for me anyway. The Kraft company has stopped making Garlic Cheese Roll. A call to the Kraft consumer hotline confirmed that “not enough consumers were buying the product to justify continued production.” In other words, the passion of millions of people in one-fourth of the US for cheese with grits meant nothing to a company with hundreds of product lines. Social chaos is likely to ensue in the Sunbelt. What will Southerners serve at Christmas morning breakfast and wedding brunches. Did the company consult one single Southerner before they discontinued it?

It’s like a whole way of life coming to an end. First they came for the garlic cheese roll. Can whipped topping and mushroom soup be far behind? Without those basic ingredients, there could be no community cookbooks. I better dust off my resume.

If you reached this page looking for a substitute for Kraft Garlic Cheese roll, try this recipe I found on the Kraft chat boards. I modified it so the roll sizes match the Kraft 6-ounce roll.

Garlic Cheese Rolls
1 1/2 pounds sharp cheddar cheese, grated
1/2 pound processed cheese product such as Velveeta

3 ounces cream cheese

1 teaspoon seasoned salt

Garlic powder to taste

Soften cheeses and mix all together well. Shape into six rolls and wrap securely in foil or plastic wrap.

Special bonus Avalanche! When a big fella from the South discovered Jimmy Dean reduced the size of its bulk pack from a pound to 12 oounces for the same price, switching to oatmeal was out of the question. Click the link to hear his call to the consumer complaint line. Starts out calm, gets madder and madder, so listen all the way to the end but shut the door and cover the kids’ ears. And then come back here and tell me what you heard.