I have a confession to make. I don’t make pretty food. This post is inspired by the song, “Dance: Ten, Looks: Three” from A Chorus Line (better known as “The Tits and Ass Song”). The song tells the story of a talented young dancer who couldn’t get a job because she was flat-chested and unattractive. The scores on her audition form were ten for dancing, three for looks. So she got a bunch of plastic surgery and started getting hired all over the place and boys liked her better. Not exactly a female empowerment anthem. At one point she also refers to her breasts as “bingo-bongos”.
This could also easily describe my cooking. I’ve mentioned before that I tend to fall down a bit on presentation. My food generally tastes pretty great, but isn’t exactly instagram-worthy. And that’s okay. I’d rather eat a delicious brown pile that looks like Fraggle Rock’s Trash Heap than a beautifully bland bite of anything. But as I’ve also mentioned, the holidays are upon us. I like to put out a plate of appetizers that I don’t have to apologize for, or promise people that if they just try it… I have a Christmas party to attend tonight, and the hostess has requested my Mini Hot Browns – one of my first original recipes (kinda), and one of the few things I make that wouldn’t immediately get me kicked off a cooking show for looking gross.
The Hot Brown originated at The Brown Hotel in Louisville, Kentucky in 1926 as a variation on Welsh Rarebit. It is (generally) an open-faced hot sandwich comprised of slices of turkey on bread, covered in Mornay sauce, and topped with bacon and tomatoes. It also follows one of my kitchen rules – if you put cheese and bacon on anything (turkey sandwich, hubcaps, old shoes), people will eat it. Other states have variations on it (I’m looking at you, Tennessee), but for the real thing, you have to look to Kentucky.
It’s also one of those things you don’t want to have for lunch if you have anything important to accomplish later in the day. It really makes you want to nap. With this recipe, I wanted to take the flavors and turn them into something that doesn’t put you into a food coma, or seriously affect your self-esteem.
Another confession – this isn’t cooking. This is assembly. Aside from warming these little guys up in the oven, there is no skill involved here.
The ingredients:
Another rule in my kitchen – filo shells make everything prettier. They come in packs of fifteen, so I’ve got four packs – thirty for tonight and thirty to take to work on Monday (job security). I also have an abomination known as cheddar-flavored cheese sauce.
Could I whip up a Mornay from scratch? Sure! No problem. But I’m not gonna. Not today. Against all odds, work has gotten shittier, I’m battling the tail end of a cold, and still have Christmas shopping to do. And for some reason (magic?), this imitation cheese product is perfect for these – it’s good hot or cold, it can sit out for decades without breaking or spoiling, and melts like a dream. A half-pound of turkey from the deli counter, a couple packs of pre-cooked bacon, some Roma tomatoes, and a few garnishes round out the shopping list. I have a whole pre-cooked bacon rant that I will reserve for another time. For today, it’s easy, requires little clean up, and I just…can’t. Not today.
Set the filo cups out on a disposable foil tray. Dice the turkey and drop three squares into each cup.
Put a glob of cheese-food into a ziplock bag and snip off the end to make a piping bag. Squirt a little yellow-colored imitation dairy product on top of the turkey. Warning! This is an absolute magnet for animal hair. If you squeeze it, they will come.
Here is a list of things my cat licked while I was simultaneously trying to pipe and photograph:
Plate where I diced the turkey
Lid from cheese sauce jar
Knife with which I diced the turkey
Spoon used to fill piping bag
He then rubbed his head against my Diet Dr. Pepper, knocking it over.
Chop up your bacon – actually precooked bacon is perfect for this as well. Since they’ll heat in the oven, it will crisp up nicely without burning, and is much more convenient for make-ahead recipes. Add bacon. Lots of bacon. The more bacon, the better (kitchen rule #3).
Dice your tomatoes. Add two or three to each cup. Press down slightly with your (clean) finger so the bacon and tomatoes nestle gently into the orangish goop.
And now to garnish – nothin’ fancy, just a sprinkle of parsley flakes and a dusting of parmesan cheese (green can – I’m going all out).
Total prep time: 30 minutes
Yield: 30 appetizers
Total cat hairs in finished product: ????
The beauty of these little appetizers is that they just have to be heated, not cooked, so can go into any hostess’s oven at any temperature. Keep an eye on them. The cheesy stuff will start to melt and bubble and the filo shells will turn brown and crispy. Serve.
illdothedisheslater 