As a young lass, I remember eating Chicken Cacciatore only a handful of times, but every time I think of jumbo shells, for some reason I think of that specific dish. (Mom, did you make chicken cacciatore with jumbo shells?)
That is not what we made tonight. Nor did we make "Kitchen Cacciatore," which is what I thought it was called when I was young and precocious. But we did make stuffed jumbo shells, so the connection I've just made for you is not unwarranted.
Recipe:
12 oz. box of jumbo shells (I didn't prepare the entire thing; about 20 or so will do)
Bag o' spinach
Container of ricotta cheese (I used the skim milk kind, but I'd go with whole milk next time...go big or go home!)
Pasta sauce (we used El Cheapo tomato & basil, Kroger brand)
Sprinkle chee (we've run out of this, so I didn't get to include it this time, but it'd make a nice addition to the dish)
Boil water for pasta. Toss in shells. Coat bottom of pan with half the jar of tomato sauce. Sauté spinach. Mix spinch and ricotta in a bowl. When pasta is at your desired strength (we like ours a bit al dente), drain it and run a little cold water on top. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and, while it's preheating, stuff your shells and arrange them artfully in the baking pan. Sprinkle sprinkle chee on top of all the shells and then dump the remainder of the tomato sauce on top of that. Bake for about 25 minutes, but keep an eye on it because your shells could burn, baby, burn!
We also enjoyed a lovely salad with these shells, as you can see in the last picture.
And, while I've got you here, I'd like to present a, shall we say, quandry that was brought to my attention this afternoon. Here's the scene:
Last night, to celebrate Valentine's Day, Cris and I broke the rules of the challenge and—are you ready for this?—went out to dinner. We love Maharaja, so we went there and split a Bombay Aloo plus some Dal soup and naan. Before we left, we also purchased another of these dishes to go, knowing that we weren't going to make it to the grocery store and wouldn't really have much for lunch today. It's usually a lot of food for the both of us, so we figured it'd be enough for lunch the next day.
This morning, as Cris was getting ready, I began my morning ritual of packing our meals. I got out two tupperware containers and emptied the rice from Maharaja evenly into each and packed the restaurant's container of Bombay Aloo. I also tossed in an oatmeal packet and another tupperware bowl for my breakfast. Cris comes into the kitchen and, from the cabinet, takes out another packet of oatmeal from the box of the kind I don't like (Apple & Cinnamon) and sets it on the dining room table. (If you're familiar with our house, the kitchen and dining room table are in separate rooms. The lunch bag was on the kitchen counter and, as I see it, would have been an appropriate vessel for carting the oatmeal. In fact, I do use it to cart my own oatmeal each day. But I digress.) He goes to fluff his hair and I, noticing the oatmeal on the table, pick up the packet and put it in the lunch bag. Then we leave.
At lunchtime, I run into Cris in the kitchen at the office. He stands with me while I prepare my lunch (one of the containers of rice, plus about half the container of Bombay Aloo, leaving plenty for him) and then we don't talk about food for the rest of the day. Come 5 o'clock, Cris tells me that he HASN'T EATEN ALL DAY.
...Uh, what!?
"I didn't know you'd packed my lunch," he said. It's here in the story where I remind him that I pack his lunch EVERY DAY because I know that, if I don't, he will go hungry (as he never has the foresight in the morning to remember his own breakfast or lunch).
"But I went hungry today anyway! How was I supposed to know you packed my lunch?" he says. There again, I remind him that I pack his lunch EVERY DAY. He maintains that I usually remind him that I've packed his lunch and, while that may be true (though I'm not entirely sure it is), there's still no excuse for him not eating breakfast. He got the oatmeal out of the cabinet himself! With his own two hands! Plus, there's nothing stopping him from asking me if I packed his lunch. Or, perhaps, "Hey babe, what happened to that packet of oatmeal I got out of the cabinet this morning?" To which I would reply, ever so sweetly, of course, "It's in the lunch bag, my darling sugar muffin of love." Is that really so hard?
I shall end my rant here, as this is awfully long. I'm sending all the patient readers of this post bon-bons of gratitude for bearing with me. I'd like to invite you to respond to this conundrum and I'd also like to encourage Cris to present his side of the story (in a separate post, my sweet), as it is certainly lacking his POV.
That is all.
Love,
-CW