This week we reflect on surprising yourself with a homemade creation. We also welcome Guest Gulletier, Stephanie Rudig to the table.
Seggs & The City'
by Greg
My seasonal affective disorder is currently in full swing and left me trudging through the past week in a foul mood. Upon waking up on Thursday, I decided a little character work might help dislodge my depression. Performing my best Carrie arriving in gay Paris, I threw open my curtains and chose to look out on Brooklyn not as a hellscape of dog shit smeared sidewalks and garbage cresting out of brown snowmelt, but as a borough sparkling with opportunity and magic around every corner. I stretched, put on a plush robe and floated to the kitchen. Any classic “best day ever” scene starts with a montage of the protagonist making themselves a gorgeous breakfast. Bien sur! I’d have what the come-get-ready-with-me-TikTok-girls were having and prepare the bougiest breakfast sandwich I could imagine.
I fired up the stove, fried two eggs in a generous pan of butter and then smothered them with Cabot pepper jack cheese. I reached for some Stonewall Kitchen sriracha aioli and gently spread it over a warmed brioche bun like a 90s I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter commercial. Once everything was stacked on the bread, I topped it off with some Maldon sea salt flakes and a crack of fresh ground pepper. Comme c’est beau!!
Upon the first bite, I was shocked by how good it was. Was it my new wide-eyed perspective or that the ingredients cost more than a cab to JFK? Delectable as the sandwich was, it needed one final touch; a dumb ass pun fit for The New York Star. Thus the Gregg & Cheese was born.
Here I was, melancholy and miserable and Just Like That, a petit-dejeuner turned my week around! I couldn't help but wonder, was the best toast the one you make for yourself?
Verdict: Un repas parfait.
Side dish: If you’re looking for something a little bit fucked up but delicious, spread on some jam or preserves instead of a savory condiment.
Name drops: Bonne Maman raspberry preserves, Stonewall Kitchen sriracha aoili, Maldon sea salt flakes, Cabot pepper jack cheese
My Beautiful Soup - Kitty
After two weeks of sniffles and shits, during which I lost five pounds due to lack of appetite, I was once again ready to digest. I rarely crave soup, but it seemed like the best-case scenario. Since I've dubbed 2024 the year I "return to kitchen," I wanted to whip up my own. I had chicken tortellini on the brain, so I Googled some recipes and decided I'd play it fast and loose. I started with your traditional celery, carrot, garlic, and onion combo that I accidentally burnt in my knock-off Le Creuset Dutch oven. (I think this worked in my favor!) Next was shredded rotisserie chicken, broth, spices, spinach, and cream. Voila! The perfect delivery system for what is essentially a pasta dish. I lived off this soup for three days straight before I had to pawn the leftovers off on my dad. I waited patiently for what I hoped would be a glowing review. He confirmed that it was indeed a beautiful soup. This will remain my entire personality until the next time Lady Delish guides my ladle.
Verdict: Food win.
Name drops: Dutch oven for simmering on a budget, Tortellini from the refrigerated section
The Half Enchilada
by Stephanie Rudig1
As a wildly impatient woman who lives alone, I often end up making the same five or six meals on autopilot. 90% of my meal prep is NYT Cooking recipes that have been tweaked to require fewer steps, and the other 10% is kimchi fried rice served multiple times per week. But when I’m entertaining, I like to get a bit more elaborate than I would for myself and prepare a showcase dish, something that needs to bubble in a cauldron for several hours, or at least seems like I put some effort into it. When I had a friend over for dinner last week, I decided to do enchiladas with mole sauce made from scratch rather than from a can like I would make for myself. The mole sauce went off without a hitch - I followed the NYT Cooking recipe flawlessly. I even got everything assembled and ready to go well before my guest arrived so that all I’d have to do was pop the pan in the oven about 30 minutes out from whenever we wanted to eat. When that time came, I pulled out my tinfoil to cover the pan, only to discover that there were two inches left on the roll. With my laissez-faire attitude toward cooking, I decided it would be fine. Dear reader, it was not fine. I was foiled by the lack of foil, and my enchiladas came out so crispy that the only way they would be classified as such would be on the Taco Bell value menu. Lucky for me the flavor was still passable, everyone loves crunchy baked cheese bits, and my friend is too kind to give me critical feedback on my cooking.
Verdict: Food loss.
Let us know what’s going down your gullet! Drop us a note at putitinthegullet@gmail.com
Stephanie Rudig (she/her) is a designer, writer, and illustrator who lives in Washington, D.C. with her three-legged cat, Special Agent Dale Cooper. Her varied accomplishments include taking second place in a spoken word pun competition, a feminist street art blog that was inducted into the Library of Congress, and an artist book composed entirely out of Saltines.
Requesting an artist’s rendering of Lady Delish guiding Kitty’s ladle!