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Recipe: mu shu pork

It’s actually mu as in mu shu pork. When I was a kid, I ordered this at Chinese restaurants and my parents would exclaim, “Why do you order this? We make it at home much better!” They were right, but I loved the pancakes. I was also the one who ordered chicken strips at the seafood restaurant. My, how times have changed. I now refuse to order any Chinese dish that I can make at home. I usually go for those plates that make a fantastic mess to prepare… better their kitchen than mine.

Mom’s homemade mu shu pork (and yes, she always used pork – no chicken, no beef, no tofu, no shrimp versions) included homemade pancakes – the mu shu shells. We called them bing and I have no idea if that is the proper Mandarin word or just some nickname my parents made up. I learned that one of the terms of affection they had for me translates into “stinky egg” and not “dearest daughter” as I had assumed, so you will forgive me if I am cautious about littering the page with what I *think* is accurate Mandarin terminology.

Typically, fast food is shunned in our household. Typically. Unless we are driving down I-70 after a big day of free-heeling pow (translates into: telemarking deep, fluffy snow) and are desperate to stoke up on grease, sodium, sugar, and more grease. When it comes to fast food, my personal favorite is the Chick-fil-A sandwich – a chicken sandwich I grew up eating in southern Virginia. It lived in every mall in the South.

Last year, I toured Sydney for four days while Jeremy dorked out with an international team of astronomers – a group that makes even geologists look fashionable – in Alice Springs. I can’t say I have ever experienced a more incredible eating tour of any city, thanks to my dear Kell. We ate some seriously fancy shmancy food. I also had my token spud meatpie at Harry’s Cafe de Wheels in Woolloomooloo. I love saying Woolloomooloo as much as I love typing it. Woolloomooloo, Woolloomooloo, Woolloomooloo. As part of my inaugural effort to eat all of Sydney, Kell and Jerad took me to Oporto to experience what they claim is Australia’s best fast food sandwich: a chicken filet sandwich with a chili ginger sauce (piri piri). Instant love, I tell you.

Imagine my surprise and elation when a package arrived for me a few weeks ago postmarked from Australia. I love my Kell, because she randomly purchases everyday delights from her lovely (and hot – did I tell you how bloody hot it is in Oz?) island continent nation, pops them into a bubble-padded envelope, and ships them to my post office box in the hills. That and she has a wicked hilarious sense of humor. Anyway, this package contained the precious of precious sauces:

Recipe: roasted goat cheese-stuffed squash

I haven’t been cooking lately, unless you count reheating food in the nuker, on the stove top, or in the toaster oven (hey – that toaster oven is my redneck heritage). Why? Because I made too much food in the past week and now we are in the frenzied mode of trying to finish off those leftovers before they expire. Just hate to waste food… I can tell I have fallen into a rut of sorts. We were walking through our local mountain grocery store in search of hoisin sauce because we ran out. [Tangent: Let me tell you, I won’t make that mistake again… I shall henceforth maintain a proper store of genuine hoisin sauce from a reputable Asian grocer because the stuff they carry in my little town is really really narsty. Not nasty, but narsty. All of my ancestors were crying out in horror the moment that stuff touched my lips.] I wandered down the baking aisle in search of ?? Jeremy, in his effort to move us along, asked what I was looking for or rather what I wanted to make. I stopped and realized that I had filed into the recesses of my brain a todo list of sweets: raspberry almond tea cake, baklava, zebra torte, chocolate mousse…

I’m so lame. I have all of the ingredients ready to go, I think I’m just tired after skiing or maybe I’m still tired after my surgery? We went skiing today and I managed one of the most fabulous face plants. Because my left arm is not completely healed, when I fell, I kept my arms back to avoid injury. Except I biffed with my face. Funny how I was so impatient to recover from surgery so I could launch my body down the mountain. Gravity sports are great!

Anyway, I do have a lovely recipe to share with you today. I made this shortly after Christmas. It is another one of those foods I had years ago and loved and am finally getting my lazy bum around to replicating it. The evening before we left Ithaca – five years ago, our dear friends Mike and Carrie took us out for a special farewell dinner. One of the appetizers we ordered was a goat cheese stuffed squash. At this point, I can’t honestly recall anything about the dish other than it had squash, goat cheese, and tasted amazing. So that’s what I started with.