Tradition: Ravioli with spinach-tomato sauce

The spinach, tomatoes and basil complimented the cheese ravioli nicely.

Okay, the meal might not be entirely a tradition, although my college roommate and I certainly ate enough refrigerated ravioli to make it one.

Unless you make it yourself, pasta is pasta, as far as I am concerned. What sets it apart is the sauce.

Now, I've made some mean spaghetti sauces in my day, including one when I was a teenager that basically includes large chunks of whatever fresh vegetables we had lying around and a can of chunked tomatoes, spiced up with some herbs and a pinch of cinnamon. It was good, I promise.

Last night, having realized that I recently bought two packages of pasta and no sauce, Carl and I got creative.

What we ended up with was a spinach-tomato sauce that complimented the cheese ravioli perfectly. It also went nicely with Newcastle.

Spinach-tomato pasta sauce:

Dice half a small onion and a couple large cloves of garlic and saute in a bit of olive oil until the onions are clear.

Using your kitchen shears, cut apart whole tomatoes. One can is enough, depending on how much you like tomatoes. Add the tomatoes to the pan with the onions and garlic.

In the meantime, put a package of frozen spinach in the microwave to thaw. Two minutes or slightly more should be enough. Empty the package into a clean dishcloth (preferably not white!) and squeeze the water out of the spinach. Add to the pan.

Add a fourth of a cup of fresh, chopped basil, a teaspoon dried oregano, a fourth of a teaspoon salt, a fourth of a teaspoon pepper, a pinch of nutmeg and a small pinch of sugar.

Add a teaspoon of capers, with liquid.

Add about a cup of water (more if necessary), bring to a boil, then lower the temperature, cover and simmer for 10 minutes.

In the meantime, cook the pasta. By the time it is finished, the sauce should be ready.

Add fresh parmesan as a topping.

Adventure: Acorn squash

When Carl and I got married, his dislike of bell peppers and sweet potatoes were high on my list of things I was unhappy about (it was a short list).

Two and a half years later, he’s conceded that sweet potatoes are good if roasted with salt, pepper and a little olive oil instead of covered in sugar and marshmallows, and even bell peppers are edible if cooked.

But, one of the biggest concessions – even bigger than that kale now appears regularly on our table – is squash. Acorn, spaghetti, butternut or pumpkin, winter squash is a fun and tasty vegetable just perfect for cool evenings.

Carl has never been quite sure though.

The first time I fixed acorn squash and served it, he looked skeptical, especially when he saw me spoon a little honey over top. He chose to try it with a little salt and butter and a lot of pepper, his face slowly changing from dubious to neutral to not-quite-happy-but-far-from-disgust. “Hey,” he said. “This isn’t too bad.”

A slight victory, perhaps, but a victory nonetheless.

If you look at an acorn squash in bewilderment, here’s how to cook it:

Cut it in half from top to bottom using a large, sharp knife. It’s a bit like cutting a melon, except the squash is a lot denser.

Put the two halves, cut-side down, in a microwavable dish. I use a 9x9 glass baking dish.

Add just a bit of water to the dish. A fourth to a half of a cup should do it.

Cover the pan lightly. If you use plastic wrap, be sure to leave a corner slightly open so the steam can escape.

Microwave for about 12 minutes. The flesh of the squash should be tender and easy to mash with a fork when done.

Add a bit of salt, pepper and butter or butter and honey (or brown sugar) and eat straight out of the shell. 

Tradition: Cast-iron skillets

I admit, I wouldn't know how to make several dishes without my cast-iron skillet.

German pizza, sausage, breakfast steaks and spaghetti sauce all necessitate Carl and I pulling out the cast-iron.

But, the main item that just isn't the same without a cast-iron skillet is cornbread.

No matter what kind, the trick is to put a thin layer of vegetable oil in the bottom of your cast-iron skillet and put the skillet in the oven while it pre-heats.

Once the oven is hot, take out the pan (remember the handle is hot!), and carefully pour your batter into the hot oil.  Put the skillet directly back into the oven and set your timer.

It comes out beautifully crisp on all sides and wonderfully moist inside.

And, the best part is, the oil helps keep your cast-iron skillet in top shape.

I learned when I was young that proudly showing Mom the cast-iron skillet I scrubbed and scrubbed at meant I was in trouble. Funnily enough, Mom has a similar story of the time she worked and worked to get all that built-on grease out of Boo Boo's iron skillet.

In case you have a child who is so proud of having "helped" or new to the iron skillet world, here's what you need to know about seasoning your skillet.

Lightly coat the entire skillet with vegetable oil and wipe out the excess. Put your skillet upside down in a 250 degree oven for 20 to 30 minutes. Let it cool, then repeat the process three more times.

Don't clean your skillets too aggressively. A nice layer of grease is what gives cast-iron skillet cooking its distinctive flavoring. Instead of soap and steel wool, use sea salt for any stuck-on food. Otherwise, just use hot water and rinse well.

Once clean, wipe a thin layer of oil on the inside of the skillet to keep it from rusting. If you have a lid, store the skillet with the lid askew so the pots can breathe.

Adventure: Maple syrup brunch

Looks tasty, but ended with maple syrup overload.

Carl and I got ambitious this morning thanks to our latest Food Network magazine and a half- bottle of pure maple syrup in the 'fridge.

You see, last spring, the magazine included a recipe for Maple Oatmeal Scones, which sounded delicious. In October, they included Spiced Maple Sausage, which also sounded pretty good. So, since we had the maple syrup, we decided, why not?

On a side note, when I was in Germany, I attempted to explain biscuits to my Scottish and Irish friends by explaining that they were similar to scones. They aren't really. Scones and biscuits have entirely different textures. But, they sort of look the same. And, it is really hard to explain biscuits to someone for whom that word means "cookie."

But, back to brunch.

While tasty, the meal ended in maple syrup overload.

Unlike biscuits, the scones were much drier and more crumbly. They sort of fell apart in an almost cake sort of way. We made a powdered sugar, maple syrup and vanilla glaze to spoon over the top, then sprinkled a few oats on that. I liked the oats. It made them look healthy.

Before baking, we brushed the scones with an egg and milk mixture.

The sausage was where we went wrong. The original recipe called for 1 3/4 pounds of pork sausage. We only had one pound and that conversion gets a little sticky. What ended up happening is that not all the ingredients, including the maple syrup, got cut as they should have.

After you mix all the ingredients, including the maple syrup into the sausage and cook it, it ends up concentrating the syrup. Since we had too much in the meat, that was not a good thing. The end result was too sweet, and with nothing savory to contrast, the whole meal just didn't quite come together.

Never mind, though. We will try again another day.

After all, the scones were delicious!

If you want to try them for yourself, the recipes are here: Maple Oatmeal Scones and Spiced Maple Sausage Patties.