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One of the most overzealous groups of people I know are ex-fatty’s.  They have gone from plump to pumped.  No longer does a hot fudge sundae rule their life.   They have learned the secret to controlling their weight by getting control of themselves.

I hate ’em.  They no longer go blindly through their day with their mouths open, chewing and swallowing whatever comes through their path.  They walk by the refrigerator and don’t open it.  A treat is not candy but bottled water.  They would never think of putting an M&M found under the couch into their mouth.

Don’t misunderstand me.  I have nothing but respect for these truly unpleasant self-disciplined people.  I was once one, but then something happened.  No one told me I was getting older, and without informing me, my body took it upon itself to re-adjust my metabolism from hamburgers and shakes to don’t eat a pickle, you’ll blow up.

Because I am basically a strong person, I was able to resist a lifestyle change. Unfortunately, my husband’s addiction to exercise grew steadily worse.  And to make matters worse, he is also a black belt in Karate. Naturally, for the last several years, I have tried to ignore this.

The keyword was ignored, but he has become right-out obnoxious about the benefits of sweat.  Very frankly, I don’t feel the problem of chubbiness will be worked out in my lifetime.  This seemed to be my answer until recently when I had to admit my cases of convenient excuses were growing thin while I ……

On my first day in Karate class, I was devastated.  First off, this outfit has no shoulder pads, and hiding your waistline is impossible–they make you wear a belt!

Forget combing your hair.  In less than 15 minutes, you have an entirely different hairdo–the wet look.

Of course, getting in shape doesn’t happen in a day.  You have to build up to it through a series of self-inflicted and crippling body movements that immediately cause pain.

Normally articulate and well-spoken, after a one-hour class, exhaustion sets in, loss of appetite, and all direction.

Unfortunately, by 8 p.m. that evening, I’m ready to eat a horse, and that one hour is long forgotten, until morning, when everything, including things you never think of like wrists, shriek and creak.

My friend says, “Have a tummy tuck; it’s less painful.”  I say as long as I stay a white belt, my waistline won’t be as accentuated.  I’m trying to be a good sport, but you see that is one of the problems, it’s a sport, and I have always been a spectator.  They say that studying martial arts is a lifetime experience.

I will need that time to get a black belt.

QUICK DINNER WHEN EXTRA TIRED

4 Bratwurst

1 large apple cored and sliced.

6 small Yukon gold potatoes

1/2 medium size cabbage cut into small wedges.

sour cream

Bring water to boil and add potatoes.  Last 10 minutes cook the bratwurst in the same water with the potatoes.  Drain and set potatoes and Bratwurst on warm platter.

Bring hot water to boil in a large pot.  Place steamer inside and add apple, cabbage over low heat until apple is soft.  Season all with salt and pepper serve warm on platter with the Bratwurst and a dollop of sour cream.

“When I lived in Italy, it was like I was on the Planet Crypton,” Nick Stellino confides. “When I arrived in America (planet earth), I felt as if I could become Superman.”

Sicilian-born, Chef Nick Stellino, decided to follow his heart.  His hard work and long efforts have made him the star of PBS’s most popular cooking show, “Cucina Amore.”

A partnership with West 175 and KCTS/Channel 9 has created a nationally syndicated cooking show and three cookbooks: Cucina Amore, Nick Stellino’s Glorious Italian Cooking, and his newest, Nick Stellino’s Mediterranean Flavors, published by G.P. Putnam’s Sons.

His graciousness showed under pressure at Woodinville’s Columbia Winery’s recent “Taste of Red” event.

Settling down on a couch in an upstairs room of the winery, he began to say how surprised he was by the power of television and how he marveled that people now stand up and listen to what he has to say.

“When I was a dishwasher, no one said, “oh, your eyes are so blue,” he laughed.  Dressed in a black turtle neck sweater, black pants, and black hair swept back in his now famous ponytail; Stellino seemed more philosopher than chef, his words spoken with his hands and heart.

“Being a chef is a dream come true for me.  It has enabled me to incorporate all the things that are important to me into my daily life.”

Stellino commutes from Los Angeles, California, where his daily life is spent living in Los Angeles with his wife, Nanci. He spreads genuine warmth when he talks of her, and the passion of his childhood in Italy, and the family stories which have become his trademark.

Each fall, he arrives in Seattle to begin taping “Cucina Amore.” Twenty-six shows are taped a year at KTCS, sometimes up to three a day.  He is such a natural that there is no need for a rehearsal.  He writes his cookbooks at his favorite coffee shop in Los Angeles or his office at home.

Arriving in the United States as a teenage exchange student, Stellino stayed and established a career as a stockbroker.  But, in 1991, after returning home to his uncle’s funeral in Sicily, he remembered his words, “that you should never die without having followed your dreams.”

He came home, quit, and landed a job as a dishwasher-but, the informal lessons he had learned from his family of passionate cooks helped him to rise from dishwasher to prep cook, to salad chef, to saucier-all the way to executive chef.

A local talent scout selected Stellino as the TV spokesperson for Ragu tomato sauces.  This national exposure led to his television cooking series.

As he enters the room to his attentive audience, he places a red-and-white checked kitchen towel around his waist.  He immediately charms them as he reiterates a question I had asked earlier, “What does it feel to be a success?”

He explains to the audience that success is a perception. “It is not status quo-only perfect moments-are success.  People on TV seem so good, so special, but believe me, I have burned many recipes.  I can cuss very good in Italian”, he said.

His third book, “Nick Stellino’s Mediterranean Flavors,” is an all-new collection of traditional Mediterranean cuisine recreated to make them simple enough for novice or busy cooks.

I tried this recipe and found it very easy.  The gravy looked beautiful, and the flavor was company quality.  After this success, I tried many more recipes in this book.  I found them all to be peppered with Stellino’s enthusiasm and emotional connection making each dish memorable.

CHICKEN WITH GARLIC SAUCE

2 tablespoons flour

1-1/2 teaspoons sage

1-1/2 teaspoons rosemary

3/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon black pepper

4 boneless chicken breasts, with skin on

3 tablespoons olive oil

20 garlic cloves!, cut in half length-wise

1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes

1/2 white onion, chopped

1/4 cup white wine

1-1/4 cup chicken stock

1 tablespoon soft butter mixed with 1 tablespoon flour

3 tablespoons chopped fresh Italian parsley

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Combine the flour, sage, rosemary, salt and pepper on a plate.  Dredge the chicken breasts in the flour mixture, shaking off the excess flour.  Heat 2 tablespoons of the olive oil in a large saucepan set on medium-high heat until sizzling, about 2 minutes.

Add the chicken breasts to the pan, skin-side down, and cook for 4 minutes on each side.  Transfer to a baking dish, skin-side up, and cook for 10-15 minutes in the preheated oven.

While the chicken is baking, add the remaining olive oil to the saute pan used for browning the chicken and heat over medium-high heat until sizzling, about 1 minute.  Add the garlic, red pepper flakes, and onion and cook until the onion softens and the garlic begins to brown, about 3 minutes.

Stir the wine into the pan, scraping up any brown bits from the bottom. Boil the wine until reduced by half, about 2-3 minutes.  Add the chicken stock and boil until reduced by half, about 7-8 minutes.  Remove the pan from the heat and whisk in the butter-flour mixture, stirring until it has melted completely.  Return the pan to the heat and boil for a minute until the sauce thickens.  Keep warm until ready to serve.

To serve, place the chicken breasts on serving plates, top with the sauce, and a sprinkle of the chopped parsley.  Enjoy with a glass of Cabernet Franc.

My curiosity, such as it is, was piqued the other day as I glanced at a flyer in the Sunday paper.  Our own local Darigold was on a quest for a new ice cream flavor.  

If you want to see a flagrant and spectacular violation of the known laws of physics, watch how fast a half-gallon of ice cream can disappear when I am near.

So being the ice cream hound that I am, I immediately sat down and sent them 23 flavors.  

I thought I had been clever with fun names and whimsical ingredients:  Maui Waui, Shanna Banana, Seattle Grunge, and was counting the days until September 20 when the finalist would be notified.  

But as the countdown continued, the complacency gave way to the grim, clear-eyed reality that I lost.

Whipped into an emotional frenzy, I had almost succeeded in driving the thought of doing two of my favorite things–eating and eating ice cream Good-Bye, when I received this letter:

“Dear Darigold Concoction Contest Entrant:

Congratulations!  While your ‘flavor’ was not one of the winning entries, your letter convinced us that you deserve a seat on Darigold’s Feature Flavors Selection Panel as a VIP guest taster.  You will be sampling 48 different flavors of ice cream to help us select the flavors that will be included in next year’s Darigold Feature Flavors program.”

I naturally was delighted, yet I became delirious when Jan Roberts, Consumer Scientist for Darigold, informed me there were over 10,000 entries!

“They had all been very clever,” she explained.  “Some went as far as sending ingredients with their recipe.  Out of all the entries, there seems to be a trend towards coconut, pretzel, lemon, and mint flavors.”  

And she continued chuckling as it was quite a challenge to narrow 10,000 entries down to four flavors, one for each category of fruit, nut, chocolate, and candy.

How long did it take to compose one of the four winning flavors?  Four weeks.  

The flavor was sent to the manufacturer, who took about a week with special instructions from Darigold.  A quart would then return to the consumer science lab, where the staff would taste and approve the flavor. When approved, the design for the box would start, and ample ice cream would be made for the VIP taste testers who would choose the winners.

First, we started with fruit and used the two-spoon method.

I was ready for the big one spoon method, but rules are rules.  

We had 20 minutes to take ice cream from a big metal spoon and put a scoop of ice cream on a little tiny pink plastic spoon.  Savor the flavor (as many times as we wanted), then rate it on a scale of 1-5 for the overall reaction to the flavor, name, and carton design.

I will not here or anywhere describe what I remember of eating 48 flavors of ice cream in 2-1/2 hours, which is almost everything.  

Enough to say that having not eaten 48 flavors of ice cream in one sitting before, I was surprised that by the time we had reached the fourth category (candy), I wanted to shout, “Enough already! My teeth are getting fuzzy!”  

But I did not because the four finalists and the 17 invited guests would have turned on me, and my lifeless body would have been found later in a butter vat, covered with tiny pink plastic spoons.

I was incredibly full.  

Me–an ice cream addict who in a million years would never have thought ice cream could be filling.  But each taste was better than the last. Every bite burst with creamy, rich flavor, with wonderful ingredients and surprising names, such as Mud Puddle, Cloudy With a Chance of Cookies, Chocolate Freckles, Muddy Snowshoes, and Cluster’s Last Stand.

The winning flavors for the four categories were: Mad About Chew (chocolate category) with chunks of brownies, mini candy-coated chocolates, ribbons of peanut butter, and chocolate-flavored ice cream; Red Hot Java (candy category) with cinnamon red hot candies, and cinnamon-coffee-flavored ice cream; Internut (nut category)with roasted almonds, white chocolate chunks, webs of chocolate fudge, and pistachio-flavored ice cream; and English Lemon Meringue Custard (fruit category) with lemon meringue swirl, pie pieces, and lemon-custard flavored ice cream.

They were all delicious.  My favorite, even though I am a chocolaholic, was the English Lemon Meringue Custard.  It was delightfully different.

As a parting gift, Darigold each gave us a talking Ice Cream Man scoop.  

It yells, “Ice Cream,” and then you hear bells ringing from an old-fashioned ice cream truck.  Unfortunately, we ice cream addicts do not like a lot of noise when we are sneaking the last bites out of the box, so I think I will keep that hidden in the drawer.

Margo and Libby, the neighbors, had plopped themselves down on my living room couch.

They were arguing over who had the worst day.  Margo had spent the day picking lint out of the dryer.  Libby had cracked her shins on her cars rusty tailpipe and then stood in line all day trying to renew her driver’s license.

I, on the other hand, was clinging to the arms of the sofa.  My throat muscles paralyzed, waiting for the moment to blurb out my exciting news.

“Of course, none of these things would bother me.” Margo said, “If something dazzling ever happened around here.”

Look at ‘em; they’re so unhappy. I thought.  A lowlife. That’s all I am. I bit my bottom lip as I listened to Libby describe her tight-fitting shoes, and then—I couldn’t stop myself.  I stood up and shouted. “I WON THE CONTEST.”

Libby stopped talking, and Margo spilled her coffee. “What?” they said simultaneously.

“The Nancy and Tracey Take On The World” special that was on last Friday,” I said.  “You know they are the two girls on King TV’s Almost Live comedy sketch show at 11:30 pm every Saturday night.  I won their contests in 25 words say, “Why The World Owes Me A Living.”

“I wrote:  Cereal has hardened in the bowl, dog threw up on the bed, my gums are shrinking, Prince Charming skipped, I use to date Bill Gates.”

At this point, the three of us were high-flying when Margo shouted, “What did you win!”

Tears welled in my eyes as I explained I was on TV for 30 seconds (you didn’t want to blink) dinner at the Georgian in the Four Seasons Olympic Hotel.  Have my hair done at Anthony Tiberio Salon. But the best part was to meet Nancy and Tracey.

“Tell us about them,” they both giggled.  (I thought they would never ask!)

I arrived at King TV at 11 am with my 25 words memorized.  The building itself is spectacular with its five floors, skylighted with a fountain in the lobby.

Tracey Conway met me at the reception area, shaking my hand, looking just like she does on TV.  Nancy Guppy sporting a new short hairdo, tells me we are going to a local park to have me say my 25 words on camera, giving me her big grin.

The three of us walk toward the back of the building to a parking garage where the crew Ralph, Matt, and Peter waited for us inside a large van. The van was full of laughter, and the ride was too short.

We all piled out at the park, and Nancy, the Executive Producer of the special, handed me my original letter to read the 25 words.  She stood on my right with a microphone, and Tracey stood on my left to hand me the prize envelope.

Nancy introduced me, and then I had to look into the camera lens while this fellow on the left of me held a big reflector size of a giant pizza pan that they promised me would make me look thin.  Ha Ha.

We took three takes and called it a wrap.  I was so disappointed.  I wanted it to last all day, and it took less than an hour.

Nancy and Tracey agreed to meet me the following week for an interview for my newspaper column Overdone and Undercooked.  I asked if maybe they would want to go to lunch, too.

I arrived the next Tuesday only to find Nancy and Tracey in their coats, ready to eat lunch.  Without even thinking, I had said that I would drive.

“OH NO,” Margo shook her head.  ‘In YOUR car!”

I have no intention of humiliating myself by relating that grim scene of Nancy trying to find a place to put her feet with her eyes rolling wildly in her head, knowing whatever was down there would stay on the bottom of her shoes forever.

Tracey bravely sat in the backseat where out of pure nervousness, I flung the Styrofoam ice chest, sandals, portable radio, Nickelodeon magazines, hamburger wrappers, and nail polish that was just sitting in the front seat.  I couldn’t bear to see what was already in the backseat.

We drove to Macrina restaurant in Belltown, and outwardly they were the best.  Easy to talk to and as fun as they appear on TV.

“It was a chance to use our more edgy pieces,” Tracy said with great satisfaction when asked about Why The World Owes You a Living. “A chance to have control over a project.”

Tracy, originally from New Mexico, went to graduate school in Los Angeles.  She loved Seattle, moved here, and worked as a temp at King TV in the secretary pool and acted in the evening in theatre productions. John Keister, the host of Almost Live, would pull her out to use her in skits. Until one day, he wanted her full time.

Recently, Almost Live had been syndicated on Comedy Central. They were taping eight shows every two weeks.  Tracey says she enjoyed the big crew and lots of artistic license.

“We try locally, though,” Tracey sighed, “not to think too big; we have to keep our sketches within our budget.”

Nancy’s husband, Joe Guppy, was one of the original cast members, and they had an opportunity to spend three years in Los Angeles writing for HBO’s “Not Necessarily The News.”

About L.A. Nancy said, shaking her head, ‘Well, we didn’t hate it, just needed not to be there, all you do is work, when not working trying to find work. Besides, I love the rain,” she said, her eyes shining

Nancy, a Seattle native, likes the routine of the show. She does admit it is not a job that you leave at the office and have very little time for much else.  They work Tuesday through Saturday and tape Saturday evening.  They spend the week writing, producing, and directing the skits with the rest of the cast.

I turned to Margo and Libby and said, “I don’t mind admitting I could use more days filled with adventure, especially meeting people as fun as Nancy and Tracey.”

NANCY GUPPY’S BLACKBERRY COBBLER (WHENEVER SHE FINDS THE TIME)

1 CUP FLOUR

¾ CUP OATMEAL

½ CUP BROWN SUGAR

1 TSP CINNAMON

½ CUP MELTED BUTTER

¼ CUP CHOPPED WALNUTS

3 CUPS BLACKBERRIES (FROZEN IS FINE)

Press half of the flour mixture into a greased 8” square pan.  Pour in berries.  Top with another half of flour mixture. Bake for one hour at 350 degrees

“Tell me I forget, show me I remember, involve me, I understand. Those words have served me well as an educator and on my recent journey to Ireland.” Wryly advised John Loy as he stepped away from the poster on his office wall and sat at his desk.

“Ireland is the country of my great,great,great,great grandfather John Irwin, who was part of The Royal Inniskilling Regiment,” Loy said proudly. ‘It was wonderful to learn that the country’s charms are in the beauty of its people.”

Loy, 48, assistant principal at Northshore Junior High, recently celebrated his 25^th wedding anniversary in Ireland. 

Loy met his wife Annette, a district teacher at Kokanee, where they both attended Blanchett High School.  Their daughter, Colleen, a 9^th-grade student at Northshore Junior High, a niece and Loy’s In-laws, traveled together to Ireland.

Loy stood up and moved forward- a newly trimmed- Loy dapper in his Irish tweed jacket purchased from the tailor in the town of Donegal. “The food in Ireland, especially the breakfasts, was very hard to pass up. I have had to work hard to get back in shape.” Laughs Loy.

A district employee for the last 13 years, Loy enthusiastically thumbed through the family photos of castles, bogs, an breathtaking scenery.  Even pictures of all the food. They attended medieval banquets where the meal was eaten with hands and a knife only.

“But the abundant Irish breakfast known for their quality of ingredients and the quantity of food was the most memorable,” Loy said. “A surprise was the wonderful teas so rich with flavor,” enthusiasm carried in his words, “They are very serious about their teas, and you have to make it just right.”

The Loy family will celebrate St Patrick’s day, the patron saint of Ireland, who died around 461 with fond recollection of the medieval history of Ireland.

Their stay at the Bunratty Castle was built around 1450 on the Shannon river bank. It is unique for its authentic 15^th and 16^th-century furnishing. And a folk park where they have a living reconstruction of their homes and their environment of medieval Ireland. It includes rural farmhouses, village shops, and streets with their lawns and peacocks.

Below is a recipe from the Bunratty Castle cookbook that the Loy family would like to share.

TYPICAL IRISH BREAKFAST

Start off with a freshly cut grapefruit dust one half of the grapefruit with sugar. It is followed by a bowl of smooth porridge of oatmeal gently cooked in milk and served with an individual jug of cream.

After that comes rashers (a term used to describe a portion of thinly sliced ham or bacon) sausages and eggs, served with scones and brown soda bread warm from the oven, honey, homemade preserves, fresh butter and a pot of tea.

A good cup of Irish tea is made with freshly drawn water brought to a brisk boil. Pour a little into a 4 cup earthenware teapot to warm it, then empty the water out.

Using good quality tea, put 3-5 teaspoons, according to taste into the warmed pot.  Bring the water back to the boil and pour it on immediately.  Cover the pot with a tea cozy. Allow to brew for 5 minutes; any shorter and the flavor will not have developed, any longer and the tannin will start to come out, making the tea taste bitter. This is why the water should be boiled and not the tea boiled in the water.

For each person, gently fry two sausages over a low heat until well cooked through and golden brown on the outside.

Also, fry a couple of slices each of black and white pudding. Remove from the pan and keep hot.  Drain off the fat, as it is somewhat indigestible, and fry two rashers of bacon having first cut off the rind.  Now fry a couple of eggs in the bacon fat, spooning the hot fat over the yolks to set them.

Fry a few mushrooms and half a tomato and a slice or two of potato cakes.  Add a knob of butter if there is not sufficient bacon fat, but do not cook in butter alone as it burns at too low a temperature.

Being a mother is one of life’s great rewards. However, sometime caring for your newborn infant can be a bit awesome. It especially concerns the rising questions about baby food.

Many mothers are now taking steps in preparing their own baby food.  Having not experienced the delights of motherhood, as yet, my friend Kris has many delightful tales of her firstborn son, Joshua.  He is just beginning to enjoy solids, and they are both experiencing the art of making baby food

Here are some tips Kris would like to share from her Doctor and classes she has been attending.

Starting with your kitchen basic, a good food blender is a necessity for mixing small quantities and for storage. Mini blender jars are handy and worth the extra pennies, too.

Kris finds a food grinder to be useful also. The food can be ground immediately after cooking and served to the baby.

An easy way to store food for your infant is simply a plastic ice cube tray! It is the perfect size to feed baby one cube.

Some of the easiest things to start feeding your baby are bananas, egg yolks, and yogurt.

Questioning Kris about the benefits of yogurt for the baby, she has learned through her classes that yogurt is a perfect beginning food for babies.

It contains bacteria that help the baby’s stomach to produce the valuable B Vitamins, which he needs for growth.

Since yogurt is not sweet, it is good to accustom your child to eat it every day, and then he will not crave sweets the way a child raised on sugary cereals, canned fruits, candy, and other highly sweetened foods, will. (Baby won’t grow up to be a Chubby)

When you start feeding your baby fruit, try various fresh fruits in the yogurt: Blueberries, strawberries, cherries, as well as apples, oranges, pears, and peaches are good when in season.

Here then, is an indispensable variety of tasty recipes for your baby.  And what is more comforting for mother than to know her baby is getting the nutritional ingredient’s her baby needs to grow..after all, you are what you eat!

FOOD FOR BABY

Applesauce:  Beat in a blender, one raw peeled diced apple, ¼ cup apple juice, and a dash of salt.

Orange juice: There is no need to buy expensive orange juice made, especially for babies.  Just squeeze one orange, strain, and serve.

Banana; Peel one ripe banana mash it in a dish with a fork.  Bananas are excellent as a portion of base food.  Add a bit of milk, cereal or juice.

Cottage Cheese and Fruit: Mix together ½ cup cottage cheese, ½ cup fresh fruit and four tablespoons orange juice

Fruit soup: Delicious served cold or hot.  After preparing fruit (peeling, pitting), blend thoroughly with milk, heat for about 10 minutes.

Pea soup: One package of frozen peas cooked according to directions.  Drain water from peas.  Pour peas into a blender and mix well. Add three egg yolks, milk about 2 cups and one cup water from peas.  Pour into a pan and simmer for about 30 minutes

Chicken Noodle Soup: Blend 4 cups chicken broth, one cup cooked egg noodles, and one cup cooked cubed chicken. Let simmer for about 20 minutes

Mushroom Cream Soup: Blend ¼ cup chopped mushrooms and ½ cup milk together thoroughly.  In a saucepan melt three tablespoons butter, then add mushroom mixture. Cook slowly for about 10 minutes gradually stir in 1 tablespoon flour and one cup chicken broth and one cup milk.  Cook slowly till flavors are well blended.

Baked Tomatoes: Peel and halve one medium-sized tomato.  Spread top with soft butter and bake at 375 degrees for 15 minutes. Blend lightly

Corn Pudding: Beat two eggs. Add 2 cups of corn and two teaspoons sugar.  In a saucepan, add two tablespoons butter and 1 – 3/4 cup milk simmer until butter is melted and milk is hot. Add hot milk and butter mixture to egg mixture.  Pour into greased baking dish.  Bake at 400 degrees for 35 minutes until pudding is hard to the touch.

Beef Stew: In a small pot, add one cup cubed beef, 1/4 cup mixed vegetables (carrots, green beans, etc.) 1/4 cup potatoes. Be sure to add some of the juices of the beef and vegetables. Steam until just barely soft. Place all in blender puree on high speed.    Pour into an ice cube tray. Freeze.  Remove cubes and store them in a plastic freezer bag.  Remove cube as needed.  Heat and serve.

“I forgot my lid.”

Lid?

Dave Senestraro of Brier confessed his faux pas.  Buoyant after appearing on live TV cooking his now-famous grilled veal tenderloin with roasted garlic masked potatoes in a brown sauce.

He broke into a hardy laugh.  Minutes earlier, he had been sandwiched between co-hosts Chef Kathy Casey and Channel 9 KCTS ON-AIR personality, George Ray.

Senestraro was one of the lucky few (of more than 200 entries) chosen to appear on the station’s 11th viewer cooking special, ”KCTS Cooks: On the Grill.”

“I would do it again,” the 44-year old said.  “I love the cooking shows and never miss them.”

His children, Aja and Ian, had pleaded with him to enter his recipe, which Senestraro said he discovered while trying to find a match for a Bolla Italian red wine.  His recipe now will be compiled into the latest KCTS viewers cookbook.

Wearing a navy-blue shirt and gray shorts, Senestraro looked calm and relaxed during the taping.  Minutes before going on air, Ray practiced saying Senestraro’s Italian name, and Casey revealed that they would have potatoes mashed before airtime.

Once the show started, Senestraro began to prepare the veal.  Casey observed that the dish was well-seasoned and that most home cooks are shy of the salt and pepper.

Program host, Chef Brian Poor, who also hosts a radio program called, “The Poor Man’s Kitchen,” finished brushing the grill down with a stiff wire brush.  He then wiped the grill down with an oiled cloth to keep the grill clean and well-seasoned.

He placed Senestraro’s tenderloins on the grill. Poor had his handy squirt bottle of water ready do to double duty by dousing any unwanted flames and keeping the grilling meat moist.

The meal was now ready for presentation.  Senestraro placed his grilled asparagus, artfully arranged next to the potatoes and veal.

Kathy and George eagerly awaited a bite.  George remarked on the rich colors and the wonderful presentation.

Senestraro said he learned the joys of cooking from watching his Italian grandmother.  He also learned from studying cookbooks and watching cooking shows where he soaked up all the experience he could

Animated and expansive Senestraro looks like a man who finds life very  good indeed.  His personal passion is one day buttoning himself into a chef’s jacket and opening a restaurant in Bothell where he would serve his own creations, such as grilled filet of salmon presented on a bed of fresh, pure raspberries, with cracked black peppers and topped with pistachio pesto-made with sheep cheese-instead of parmesan.

And that lid that he forgot?  The lid is actually a 2-inch metal cooking ring that, in the presentation, he uses to fill with the roasted garlic mashed potatoes.  He then smoothes the surface with a knife removing the ring.  This leaves a perfect circle of flattened potatoes, which is topped with the veal and morel gravy.

Fortunately, many mistakes are correctable, and Casey oiled a ramekin dish to substitute for his lid, and no one would have been wiser.

Dave Senestraro’s Grilled Veal Tenderloin

Serves 4

1 -1/2 veal tenderloin

4 to 6 thin slices prosciutto (the Italian word for ham sold in transparently thin slices)

2 to 3 tablespoons extra virgin oil oil

3 to 4 grinds of fresh black pepper

 2 to 3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

2 to 3 pinches sea salt

Slice veal tenderloin into four medallions 1 to 1- ½ inches thick.  Wrap with enough prosciutto to go entirely around the medallion.  Tie with cotton string.  Place on a plate and sprinkle oil, balsamic vinegar, sea salt and pepper on both sides.  Cover with plastic wrap and let marinate at least an hour—grill over medium to high heat 2 to 3 minutes per side or until medium-rare to medium.

This week, Shanna takes the role of a classic crime detective to find the mystery—and the dinner—on the Spirit of Washington’s “Mystery Dinner Train.”

I had been a private gumshoe too many years to go for a comy gag like that. The train conductor had told me that what I was missing was inside the train.

I stood.  My eyes turned toward the mountains. I was looking for some short-cut that would lead me somewhere, anywhere, to the perfect Valentine for my schweetheart.

The conductor’s smile pulled the corners of his mouth out half an inch.  He reached inside his coat, prowled in a pocket, came out with a ticket. “Here.” He said, pushing the ticket in my hand. “Try it.”

Without looking back, I laughed at myself. I had time to turn around and see the words “Spirit of Washington” sketched across the locomotive. “Maybe, just maybe this could be THE Valentine gift,” I sighed.  The lightness had gone out of my step when I realized my Valentine could see through a brick wall as quickly as anyone.  This wears whiskers! I thought of all the past candy and cards. Enough already, I had to keep it a surprise!

I was looking for more than that fancy pants three-course gourmet meal.  I needed a little mystery to keep this romance alive! Just then, the Conductor handed me a brochure. Mayhem, intrigue, and a whodunit good time was available on a MURDER mystery train!

My eyes quickly swept the room.  I was sitting inside the Olympic railroad car built-in 1937.  People were boarding as the servers helped them find their dining tables.  I looked at them.  They looked at me.  My hunch says all of them could be the murderer! I would trust no one and suspect everyone!

I was breathing heavily with the effort of adding more honey butter on my roll.  I had already had plenty of the herbed cream cheese and salmon rillette.  It was a matter of minutes before the crisp romaine tossed with poppy seed vinaigrette dressing topped with fresh grapefruit, and toasted almonds were about to arrive.

I asked the waiter, Paul, for the recipe. He bared his uppers and lowers. He was more than glad to share:

MRS. T’s Poppy Seed Vinaigrette Dressing

¼ cup of sugar

1 ½ T onion juice

1 cup of vegetable oil

1 tsp dry mustard

1 tsp salt

1 ½ T poppy seeds

1/3 cup cider vinegar

Mix all ingredients except (the oil and poppy seed) in a blender until they are well mixed.  Add the oil slowly while continuing to blend when thickened stir in the poppy seed and refrigerate.

A young lady brightened with a smile stood up and instructed us all to wear our name tags for I.D. when they find the dead body.  She goes through the instructions fast, with technical terms flying like sparks from a train wheel.

I was lucky that night; we had a live crowd.  Not a dead beat in the group.  You could tell they were eager for the 44-mile round trip dinner experience to begin.

Suddenly a gorgeous raven-haired woman pushes her chair away from the table.   She is gagging. NO. She is choking. Her table mate’s complexion went pasty.  Suddenly the raven-haired beauty clammed up and started eating again.

Parts of it rang as wrong as a counterfeit quarter.

I whirled around, and there in the aisle stands a Detective. His teeth were smoky.  He shook my hand. I rubbed my fingers back in shape where he’d squeezed them into pretzels.

He wants to know if I was acquainted with a certain gentleman.

I told him, “Don’t push me around.  I might crack you one on the kisser.”

He went searching from table to table.  More suspicious characters started fighting.  Suddenly one of them staggered and went down into a withering heap.

The wheels of calamity were moving, but before I knew it, they had us debarking the train at Columbia Winery.

After a tour of the gift shop, where a quintet sang their hearts out, then a wine tasting we went for a tour of the winery.

Only we found more than wine barrels.

The plot thickened . . .

Cast of Characters

Spirit of Washington Dinner Train A 3 ½ hour round trip adventure including a wooden trestle built-in 1891 102 feet in height.  Seven vintage cars that have been completely restored showing scenic views with gourmet cuisine.

Gretchen’s of Course is a partnership of Schwartz Brothers Restaurants.  Guests are offered a three-course meal with an appetizer, choice of entrees, and dessert.  Northwest wines and beers are also featured.  They do all the food preparation, the staff, and the table settings

Columbia Winery  Enjoy a 45 minute stop at the winery. Including complimentary Northwest wines and a tour. Columbia is exclusively known for its Winemaker, David Lake. He is the only Master of Winemaking in the United States.

It’s a Mystery Be sure to share some personal information, and you might end up a murder suspect.  You get the chance to solve the murder, and booby prizes are awarded for the very good, the very bad, and the funny answers.

Shanna is a Northshore resident who enjoys sharing her stories and recipes with readers.  Her column appears regularly in the Citizen

I stopped on the top step of the Marriott Hotel entryway and sucked in as much fresh San Francisco air as I could.  In my hand, I held a check made out to me, Shanna, for $1 million.

Winning the Pillsbury million-dollar bake-off was as nerve-racking as a teenager out past curfew, as painful as a root canal and as difficult as preparing your taxes.

I ought to know, I can now afford to chuckle but up until this minute I vowed never to be so humiliated again.

You might think a cooking aficionado ( such as myself) would be thrilled and honored to participate in such a fantastic time-honored event. But cooking is not without its dark side.

This is what happened to me.  This is my story.

Last December, 100 Bake-Off entrants were notified that their recipes had been selected for the contest finals; which were held last month.  For me, this meant an expense-paid trip to the competition finals in San Francisco, the opportunity to win $1 million! And most importantly-national recognition.

If only my Aunt Maddie had lived to see this-she had won every blue ribbon at every state fair for the last 60 years of her life for her famous apple pie.  If she had found out, I put her recipe in the Pillsbury Million Dollar Contest she would have throttled me.  She was a mean old bat.

Only on her death bed, when all the relatives were lined up around the bed, did Aunt Maddie point her crippled, arthritic, 90-year-old finger at me.

At a whisper, Aunt Maddie said, ‘Tell the family the jokes on them (sickly cough.) The secret in my famous apple pie, (a very long silent pause) I never used apples (weak laugh). It was pears!” I tore out of that room and immediately sent the recipe directly to the Bake-Off.

I and a zillion others were flown straight to an oven, where the immense pressure began.  Immediately, when I saw the new crust-free, stainless oven, I became confused and disoriented.  There was no messy kitchen attached to it.  There were no toddlers hanging on my ankles, nor teenagers yelling that they refused to eat that slop another night.

I announced to the group that I could not cook under these sterile circumstances, and I threw down my apron ready to walk home a beaten woman.

If it wasn’t for Pills, the Pillsbury Doughboy, I–I don’t even want to think about it.   He was not considered a very smart cookie, wasting much of his dough on half-baked schemes.  Still, even as a crusty old man, he was a role model for millions.  He persuaded me to stay.  I rolled up my sleeves and began to dirty up that oven.  I threw flour in all directions. I greased the burners and started a smoke fire.  Finally, I was comfortable enough to cook.

Panic ensued anyway.  Even a cool-headed cook such as myself began to succumb to a culinary meltdown.  Unfortunately, I set my finished creation, Aunt Maddie’s Apple Pie, onto the chair to cool, then absent-mindedly sat on it after hearing this doozy from a co-contestant:

My personal new best friend, Veteran Pillsbury spokesman.  The Pillsbury Doughboy had died of a severe yeast infection and complications from repeated poking to the belly.  He was only 71.

My co-contestant explained to me (she is from Jersey), “Hey, get over it! You’re not his only friend, ya know. I hear Mrs. Butterworth, The California Raisins, Hungry Jack, Betty Crocker, The Hostess Twinkies, Captain Crunch, and many others gonna be thar to help deliver the eulogy.”

Lucky for me, and so typical of Pills good nature, one of the rules he created was to allow for making the recipe three times. I figured, good enough.  That is when I baked a new pie for the judges…it was the winner.

But naturally, I knew this would happen because a dessert always wins. One top winner will be chosen in each of the four recipe categories: Yada, Yada, Yada. BUT first place is always the fourth category: desserts and treats.

What judge is going to remember that simple shrimp taco when dessert is coming around the corner?  I know I’m not alone here because what it boils down to is what does everyone remembers about a meal–DESSERT!  What tastes best in a meal–DESSERT.  Why do you eat a meal–DESSERT.

I returned home to an ungrateful family.

“Shanna, don’t you think you’re crying over spilled milk,” my husband said.

“I can handle it!” I would holler. “Without Pills, do you think I would have won? Huh? Huh?”

I’m feeling stressed again.  Having money is nothing but work.  This is my last column. OVERDONE and UNDERCOOKED is POOPED and EXHAUSTED.

Besides, I don’t need the money.

You’re probably not going to believe this, but there are still some people in this modern-day and age who do not have any green to wear on the greenest of days, St Patrick’s!

My husband, such a little leprechaun really gets a kick out of giving you a pinch if you don’t sport green on St. Patrick’s Day

“Aye, my lassie, do not forget to wear your green tomorrow,”said my husband, his eyes shining.

“Oh, you’re cute, honey. What is in your closet that is green?” I said smugly.

He scrutinized me closely, squinted his eyes, and appeared with a closed box.

“What’s in the box?” I asked.

He was silent for a moment. Then he lifted the lid threw back his head laughed and punched me playfully on the arm.

I looked in the box.

I looked at him

I looked back in the box at last year’s clip-on cloverleaf design battery operated green bow tie that blinks incessantly.

Ouch!  How could I have forgotten? Holidays, our family abuses them.  We do not settle for a one-day landing.  We make all 30 days of the holiday month a crazed madness.

We decorate the house, eat only foods in holiday colors, and wear matching outfits.

The closets in our home each hold boxes marked with a holiday month.

‘Be careful up there on the kitchen chair!”

“It is way in the back,” my husband hollers, then turns around and hoops the box into my arms.

‘Settle down everybody.” I shout and rummage through the box, pulling out our daughter’s sun-bleached green three leave clover cutouts she made in pre-school.

“Oh, Mom, you’re not going to hang that up,” she pleads.

“Surely you jest,” as I point and gesture to hang them on the dining room chandelier.

Next came the accordion paper dancing leprechauns. They decorate the coffee tables. The green shamrocks go on all the windows. The pot of gold is the table centerpiece.  Then there is the door decoration, the Kleenex holder, the Irish piano music, and finally, the box is empty; the house is radiant.

Some people say there is no need for all this hooten n hollering. I used to react to that remark. 1.  by clearing my throat. 2.  shielding my face with my hand and 3.  slithering out of the room.

But no more. 

I will admit it. Yes, I am a holiday over doer.  I cannot just serve shamrock cookies and be done with it.

And this is where we’ve come to the heart of the matter.

Noone suffers more and is appreciated less than us Holiday Overdoers. There’s a lot of theories on why the American family has divided this way: those who Do and those who Don’t. 

But in defense of those that Do, it is like this: figuring that there are 10 (only 10!) major holidays out of 365 days of the year, well…Okay, a little teensy bit more if your throw in one-day holidays like birthdays and like Cinco De Mayo (May 5^th, for those of you who don’t know) because you cannot keep eating that delicious food day after day without the consequences of a new dress size.

It’s true we have a strange power that overcomes us.  I have talked to other Doers, and they all agree, it is natural.

So, even though we will be dining on corned beef, cabbage, and soda bread, I did not forget about you souls who acknowledge holidays quietly and with dignity.

I have the perfect recipe with just a dash of madness…Irish Coffee.

Irish Coffee serves as a pleasant punctuation mark to the evening.         

But please remember to have compassion for the rest of us on St. Patrick’s Day and ….please, wear green.

Slainte!

IRISH COFFEE

1 cup chilled whipped cream

¼ cup confectioners sugar

One teaspoon vanilla

4 cups hot, fresh coffee

4 ounces Irish whiskey

4 to 8 teaspoons granulated sugar

In a chilled bowl, beat cream, confectioners’ sugar, and vanilla until stiff.  Place in the fridge.

Heat coffee cups with boiling water, rinsed, and drain.  Add one ounce (two tablespoons) whiskey and one to two teaspoons granulated sugar to each cup; stir.

Pour hot coffee into each cup.  Top with the whipped cream.  Serve Immediately.

This extra-rich and creamy after-dinner beverage is best served in your finest goblets.