Okay, Yes, Technically it's Fried (under one dollar; about fifteen minutes)

Fried okra.

My first marriage didn't work out. However, I learned some things about cooking in the eight years of that relationship. Banana pudding. Beans and peas. Cornbread.

Fried okra.

Right now it's dark outside, raining in spits and volleys, and about, oh, forty degrees. If that. I'm in flannel and a sweatshirt, shivering uncontrollable, though the furnace is going full blast and I'm indoors. I haven't seen the sun in a couple of days. I feel sort of like either getting in bed and coming out in May, or slitting my wrists and ending it now.

I need summer food. I need bright tastes. I need to be reminded that the earth is now (as it is past the solstice) moving or tipping or whatever it does ever closer to that elusive yellow ball in the sky I've been told is the sun and is up there somewhere, warming something somewhere, where the lucky people are -- where they're probably harvesting the coffee I don't drink or picking the tea leaves (okay, this is just beautiful) I won't use, or chewing the cacao leaves I wouldn't know what do to with while they harvest the chocolate I swore off back when the sun shone in May as solidarity with Chuck's quitting smoking.

What was I talking about? Oh yeah. Fried okra. Summer food. Almost as good as a perfect tomato, warm and heavy and just off the vine.

Sigh. Sigh. Can it be May already? Please?

Well, anyway -- the trick with fried okra done the way my mother-in-law taught me is never to stir. NEVER. Always flip. Stir=musciligenous mess. Flip=crisp goodness. Remember these equations. They'll be on the next test.

Here's how you do it.

Get some okra, a small onion, and a potato. You'll also need salt and pepper, oil, corn meal and flour.

In a heavy frying pan, pour about an eighth of an inch of oil. Not too much since, as I was told, you aren't deep-frying the stuff.

Slice the onion, thinly, into a bowl.

Slice the potato, thinly (just shy of chipping it), into the same bowl.

Slice the okra, thinly (say, in quarter inch rounds), into the same bowl.

Throw in a couple of big spoons of corn meal, and a spoon of flour. Add some salt and pepper. You can always add more, so go a little lightly. Stir it up so everything's got a little flour and cornmeal sticking to it.

Heat the oil on medium high. When it shimmers, or when it pops when you drop one drop of water in it, dump the contents of the bowl into the oil.

Shake the pan so that you have one layer. Press down lightly with a spatula.

Let this sit until it starts smelling like popcorn and gets lightly browned on the edges.

Then, with a spatula, flip it in pieces. I do this in thirds: right side flip over, left side flip over, middle flip over. It's okay if you only flip parts or some of it doesn't quite make it all the way over. It'll be fine.

Shake the pan to distribute in a single layer. Wait some more and repeat until the whole mess is golden brown and crispy. The potatoes take the longest to cook, so if a fork goes through one easily and everything looks golden, you're done.

Lift and drain on a plate or in a bowl lined with paper towels.

Eat.

Think of summer. Which I wish it were, right dang now.

There you go.

Burritos for Breakfast (maybe $5; about 15 minutes)

I preface this whole entry with the caveat: we are not Southwesterners. These are as inauthentic as any other ethnic recipe here.

As I say this, I wonder: what is authentic Southwestern? A hybrid of Mexican and American food? What is authentic Mexican? A hybrid of Spanish and indigenous food? And which indigenous food? And which Spanish cuisine? And how long does a cuisine have to be itself before it's really a cuisine and not some hybrid? And while we're at it, what's Spanish cuisine, but a mash up of regional food ways overlaid with preferences from hundreds of invasions from elsewhere?

I'm looking for the Ur cuisine. That might be authentic.

And don't get me started on "American" food. Now there's a mare's nest if I ever saw one.

Okay, caveats and phlights of philosophy aside, here's what we do when we want quick finger food for brekkie.

You need:

** tortillas (these are El Banderito, but any will work.)

** 2 med potatoes, washed, unpeeled, and chopped into about 1 inch pieces

** 2 eggs

** jalapeno cheese slices (You too can torture your children! Use pain and bribery!)

** a little margarine or butter

** salt and pepper

You can add diced onion and salsa if you want. We generally don't.

In a microwave-safe dish, cover and cook the potatoes on high about 5 minutes. They should be completely cooked.

In a separate bowl, beat the two eggs together.

Meanwhile, heat two skillets. Lightly grease one (I use spray grease). You'll use this to heat the tortillas.

In the second skillet, melt a little butter. Use med to med-high heat.

When the potatoes are done, dump them into the buttery skillet and brown the potatoes. If you want diced onions, this is the stage to add them.

As the potatoes brown, set a tortilla in the other skillet and put a piece of sliced cheese on it. Heat for about a minute (until the edge of the cheese starts to soften). Remove to a plate.

In the potato skillet, pour eggs over potatoes and scramble with potatoes until almost dry. Turn off heat, add salt and pepper, mix.

Set another tortilla in tortilla skillet, add cheese. While that's warming, take a spoonful of the potato mixture and wrap it inside the warm tortilla. You can do a simple taco-like fold-over; we tend to want less messy envelopes, so we fold and roll like a burrito.

Repeat fill-and-fold with the now-warm second tortilla; repeat whole process with the rest of the tortillas until you run out of filling. This should make 5-7 small burritos; maybe 1-2 large ones.

If you want salsa, I'd recommend adding it before you fold, or using it to dip.

There you go.

Smashed Potatoes (under $3; about 25 minutes)

There is almost nothing more unpalatable to me than the mashed potatoes of my childhood. My mother used to peel and boil chunks of potato until they fell into powder. Then she'd get out the electric mixer, add margarine and some milk and mix until she could nearly pour the stuff. Babyfood. The consistency of vomit-froth. Insubstantial and unchewable. Gah. Yuck.

I encountered these again in Wisconsin and would have despaired, but thankfully, I'd been living in Georgia in between, where I --

1. had a shitty electric mixer that couldn't handle potatoes for, say, 15 (I fed 23 people at once);
2. so had bought a potato masher (mine is less hand-grenade-y than this), which changed my life, potato-wise; and
3. had met the inestimably wonderful Peter Gareis, who taught me his secret to mashed spuds.

The secret to smashed potatoes ala Gareis is that you must chew, and you must chew on rich, worthwhile things. All hail Peter, who stood in my kitchen and made these one day while I watched. Actually, come to think of it, it might have been his kitchen, and I might have been spying intrusively. All hail Peter anyway.

Okay, what you need:

A large pot

water

about 6-8 medium boiling potatoes (for about four people, or just one of you, if it's been a really really bad day)

butter

milk

salt

cream or yogurt cheese

Easy.

Step one: wash potatoes thoroughly. You're going to eat the skin, so make sure it's clean.

Step two: cut unpeeled potatoes in about 2" pieces.

Step three: put potatoes in pot and just cover with hot water.

Step four: boil them on high until a fork slides easily into the largest piece you can find. This should take about 10-15 mins. NO longer than 20 or you'll have crap falling apart potatoes and that's no fun.

Step five: drain the potatoes. Save the water for soup if you're that kind of person.

Step six: put the potatoes back in the warm pot. Add about two-three TBSP of cream/yogurt cheese, a splash of milk, a tsp salt and some butter.

Step seven: mash vigorously. Add a little more milk to get a smoother consistency if you need to.

Taste and adjust salt and add pepper if you like that. Find an old sappy movie and plop down on the couch with a bowl of these. Eat in big gobbing spoonfuls, like ice cream. They're good for your soul, very calming, very grown up.

There you go.

Curried Potatoes and Cauliflower (under $10; 30 minutes)

This is Aloo Ghobi. I learned to cook it after I got home from India, from a website called Manjula's Kitchen. Manjula uses consistently good recipes, and her videos are excellent. This is her recipe, lightly modified for my taste.

Adjust the heat (spiciness) in this by adjusting the amount of jalapeno paste you use. You can make it perfectly mild if you leave most or all of it out.

Some of the spices are not readily available at the local Publix. We use the Dekalb Farmer's Market for ours, but still, if we run out of amchoor (dried mango powder), that's only available at Indian grocery stores. If you want to cook Indian food often, you need this; otherwise, leave it out. To my taste, it imparts a bit of astringency and makes the taste more complex. But not so much that the dish is meaningfully harmed without it.

Hing (asafoetida) is necessary. You never need more than a pinch, so pick up a few ounces and you'll be good forever. Probably this is also available only from an Indian grocery store.

So, this is what you need:

3 TBSP of oil

pinch of hing (go EASY)

1 tsp. cumin seeds

2 c. cauliflower, cut into about 2" pieces

3 c potatoes, cut into about 2" pieces (do not peel the potatoes)

1 tsp shredded fresh ginger (about a 1" piece, grated)

3 tsp coriander powder

1/4 tsp turmeric

1/4 tsp cayenne or other red chili powder

1 tsp jalapeno paste

2 bay leaves

1 tsp salt

1 tsp amchoor

2 TBSP cilantro

water

It's best to prepare all of this ahead of time since it makes up so fast.

Chop vegetables, wash and set aside.

In a separate bowl, mix ginger, coriander, cayenne, turmeric, and 3 TBSP of water to make paste.

In a separate small bowl, mix hing and cumin seeds.

In a separate bowl, mix amchoor and cilantro.

Measure out the salt in another bowl.

In a large saucepan, heat oil on medium. Drop a cumin seed in when the oil begins to shimmer and pops when a drop of water is added to it. The cumin seed should crackle. If it does, add hing and cumin seeds and move them around, cooking for just a few seconds. [Wait to add hing and cumin seeds until the seed pops right after it hits the oil.]

Add bay leaves and spoon(s) full of jalapeno paste. Stir just a few seconds until everything's coated.

Add spice paste and cook one minute, or until the oil separates from the spices.

Add cauliflower, potatoes, salt, and 2 TBSP of water. Mix to coat vegetables thoroughly.

Keep the heat on low-medium. Cover and cook for twenty minutes or until tender, stirring every five minutes so the potatoes don't stick. Add just a little water if necessary. If the vegetables are very wet, leave the cover vented for the last five minutes to evaporate the water.

When the vegetables are tender, add the amchoor and cilantro. Taste and add salt if needed. Cover and rest the dish at least five minutes before serving.

I serve this with whole wheat tortillas (I just buy El Banderito brand at Publix), heated in my iron skillet. It's almost roti. Really.

There you go.

Salad. Of. Potatoes!

My brother Karl hates mayo (though it's pretty cool how it works). He calls it pus. I'm not a big fan, either, so I make potato salad with whatever else I have. Today I had some mayo and not much of anything else. So I had to use the pus. Sorry, Karl.

Purists will note: this is not German potato salad, or hot wild vinegar potato salad, or weird-ass fancy potato salad. It's potatoes dressed in white stuff with a few other things, such as salt. Very basic.

You'll need:

Boiling potatoes

Eggs

Pickles

Yogurt, sour cream, mustard, mayo if you have to

Spices (I use jalapeno paste here, but have been known to use rosemary, thyme, and/or tarragon)

salt and pepper

The first thing you want to do is take about a half-dozen medium-sized red-skinned (boiling) potatoes (about two pounds I'd guess). DON'T peel them. Cut them into chunks roughly the same size. Boil them until they're just done, drain, and refrigerate.

In another pot, boil 2-3 eggs until hard. Best way I've found to boil eggs: put eggs in cold water that covers them. Heat on medium-high. When they start boiling hard, let them boil just five minutes, then turn off the heat and let them cool to room temperature. Douse them in VERY cold water and peel immediately. Generally speaking you only lose a couple of eggs in a dozen to shell-stick this way.

When you're ready to make the salad, put the potatoes in a large bowl. Chop up a handful of small gherkins and add them to the potatoes. You could use half a large dill if that's all you have. You just want some of that pickle-y taste and the crunch, too.

In a separate small bowl, put about 1 1/4- 1 1/2 cups of white stuff. I like to mix mustard and yogurt (Stonyfield is the best), but sour cream is nice too; I've used yogurt cheese, softened cream cheese mixed with milk -- just about anything will do.

Since today I just had a little yogurt and no mustard, but did by some freak of nature have mayo, this is yogurt and a couple of spoons of mayo, with a heaping tsp of jalapeno paste. Add a scant tablespoon of salt (salt has its own newsletter!) and mix together.

Pour over the potatoes and pickles. Mix GENTLY. You want chunks of potato, not mashed potato. If you need more dressing, mix some up in the separate bowl and pour and mix again.

Chop egg coarsely and add to salad. Sprinkle black pepper over everything. Mix GENTLY.

Check that your salad has enough dressing. Some people like it drier than others (we like it pretty dry). Taste and adjust seasoning. You want it to taste like something. At this point, it'll taste mostly like egg, potato, and pickle. If it just tastes starchy, add some salt. It's what usually needs adjusting, so try a little of that first, then adjust the rest. Let sit in the fridge for at least an hour to combine flavors.

There you go.