Today is my friend Haran's birthday, so, I decided to make one of his favorite desserts --Peanut Butter Square Chippy Cups.

Peanut butter squares are a kind of a "youngest sibling," residing beneath the ubiquitous fame of their big sister, the Blondie, and their older brother, the Peanut Butter Cookie. That said, they have established their own fanbase amongst cookie and bar enthusiasts, and when situated next to them at a picnic or bakesale, will stand up and sing, "look at me! I am a neologism!" while their older siblings are ignored. 

A legend surrounds the roots of this hybrid dessert, still whispered from time to time in the halls of Lakeshore Middle School in Mequon, Wisconsin. The old story goes that a homeroom teacher, speaking in the kind of prophetic/exhausted state that goes with being with adolescents for too many hours, attempted to demonstrate the kind of care that goes into writing a book report. 

  "You have to make a plan. A recipe. You can't just throw a bunch of flour in a bowl, add some butter and 2 eggs and there you go, 'PEANUT BUTTER SQUARE CHIPPY CUPS!'"

Well, Haran claims to have been there on the day these words were spoken. And while the first actual P.B.S.C.C. was not baked until some years later (bringing Mr. Kellett's prophecy to fruition), the salty-sweet-chocolate combo proved that indeed, you can't just mix a bunch of ingredients together and make magic. It takes a great recipe. And, in this case, a memory like Haran's. He's a great fellow, and such a likable guy, I believe you will find this recipe to be almost as much fun as reminiscing with him.

These are basically like classic blondies, but with a fun (and delicious!) twist: chopped (or mini) peanut butter cups stirred in. As they bake, the peanut butter cups melt into little globules of indulgent, creamy, peanutty goodness, situated in a buttery vanilla base. They're a refreshing take on brownies--and a great way to use up the peanut butter cups you inevitably have laying around post-Halloween.

Happy Birthday Haran!

My friend Brian made this tapas classic using Japanese shishito peppers at lunch a few weeks ago, and I found them impossible to stop eating. Slightly sweet and plenty salty, with that charred, primal umami flavor made burned them permanently into my mind (pun intended, duh). So naturally, I hit him up for the recipe and he kindly obliged.

This afternoon, while perusing my favorite neighborhood Asian specialty shop, I searched high and low for shishitos, but couldn't find them. What I did find, however, were some gorgeous fresh serranos. 

Serranos are generally quite spicy--spicier than my beloved jalapeños, but I knew I could coax some of that heat out using Brian's technique. 

The result? Chilies that were spicier than the shishitos, but addictive in their own right. I topped them with nothing more than a sprinkle of salt, but I'm thinking that next time I might add a squeeze of fresh lemon too.

One last note: don't toss out the oil after you cook the chilies! The serranos impart a touch of heat and a lovely flavor--try it in sauces and dressings.

I'm a little embarrassed to admit this, but I have become increasingly fond of frozen, bagged kale.

Yeah, I know. 

But really, hear me out. First of all, it's incredibly convenient and wildly versatile. Use it any way you would use frozen spinach or cooked fresh kale.

It's cheap too. I've seen it at Trader Joe's and Whole Foods, usually for around $1.50 for a 16-oz. bag. Even more awesome, the frozen kale stems that come with the leaves are little and tender and totally delicious. How many times have you de-stemmed a bunch of fresh kale only to find yourself left with a whole lot less edible kale than you remembered buying? Not the case with frozen kale, and I love any food that inhibits waste.

In these savory, decadent cakes, mashed sweet potatoes are transformed into a loaded latke of sorts, stuffed with some of my favorite fall flavors: cranberries, garlic, sage and, of course, kale. Serve them as a side dish with grilled meats, or as the main event, perhaps with some herbed white beans and a crunchy chopped salad.

Note: You could also make these using fresh, steamed kale or frozen, thawed and drained spinach.

Apply a little technique to fresh, unfussy ingredients and eat better for less money. 

These simple pupusas (a classic Salvadorean stuffed tortilla) illustrate a very important point about BrokeAss cooking: when you buy whole, unprocessed ingredients and spend just a little extra time preparing them, the result is almost always less expensive, better for you and, most importantly, exponentially more delicious.

Essentially, these pupusas are just like quesadillas, except creamy melted cheese is sandwiched between layers of a just-cooked dough made from masa harina, a coarse corn flour made from corn and lime juice (find masa harina in a good grocery store's bulk section or in the Latin American specialty store) instead of tortillas. As the dough is griddled, the cheese melts and it's time to eat. All you have to do is spend 5 minutes (less, when you get really good at it!) longer than you would on a quesadilla and you'll be on your way to a hot, fresh and unbelievably tasty treat--that's lower in fat and less processed than a typical quesadilla.

It's probably the most important BrokeAss Gourmet principle: apply a little technique to fresh, unfussy ingredients and eat better for less money. 

The tomatoes cook down with the honey and cinnamon, yielding a fragrant sauce that coats each roll with just enough sweetness. 

When I was growing up, my mother sometimes made traditional beef cabbage rolls. She would mix ground beef, rice and spices, roll it up in cabbage leaves, and cook them slow and low, in a spiced tomato sauce. My grandmother made a similar dish. It's a traditional Eastern-European dish, with endless variation possibilities. Some people add sauerkraut, some (like my friend Tori) combine chicken with the beef, and and some even go so far as to add ketchup or molasses to their sauce.

These are not my mother's or grandmother's cabbage rolls (though I'm certain she'd approve of them), and they're probably not your mother's or grandmother's cabbage rolls either. They are, however, pure comfort food.

In my version, I swap out the cabbage for kale, skip the rice, and stir spicy Asian chili sauce into my meat. The tomatoes cook down with the honey and cinnamon, yielding a fragrant sauce that coats each roll with just enough sweetness. 

These are great on their own, or they can be served with buttered egg noodles, rice pilaf or potatoes.