Greens and Beans with Sausage Soup

My favorite way to cook is to just see what's in the pantry and fridge and let my imagination take over. This soup is an example of that technique. Inspired by mom's Sicilian greens and beans, this hearty soup will take the chill off any cold night. You can also make a vegetarian version. Just swap out the chicken stock for vegetable stock and leave out the sausage and add in an extra can of beans.

Greens and Beans Soup with Sausage

Ingredients
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 onion, chopped
1 carrot, diced
2 stalks celery, sliced
2-3 garlic cloves, minced
1-lb link Italian sausage, mild or spicy, your choice
4 cups chicken stock
1 15-oz. can crushed tomatoes
1 tablespoon dried thyme
1 tablespoon dried basil
1-2 tablespoons crushed red pepper flakes
1 bay leaf
2 cups baby spinach
1 15-oz. can cannellini beans or other white beans (garbanzo, navy)
½ cup orzo or other small pasta
Salt and pepper to taste

Directions
Heat olive oil over medium heat. Add onion, carrot, celery and garlic, sauté for about 5 minutes. Remove. In hot pan, sear sausage links, turning to brown evenly (only a minute or so).

Put sausage and vegetables into a slow cooker. Add chicken stock, crushed tomatoes, herbs, crushed red pepper, bay leaf, and salt and pepper. Cook on low for eight hours.

At 7/12 hours, turn slow cooker up to high and add in spinach, beans, and orzo. Cook for ½ hour or until spinach has wilted and pasta is tender.

Serve with a drizzle of olive oil and grated Parmesan or Romano cheese. All you need now is a nice crusty bread and some butter.

A Guest at the Table: Christopher Hawthorne Moss and Dolmades

Seduction, Byzantine-style:
A Summer Interlude from BELOVED PILGRIM
by Christopher Hawthorne Moss

EXCERPT

Place, the villa of Lord Andronikos in Constantinople.  Time, one sultry afternoon in 1101 VE

The servants came in with platters and bowls of what seemed as rich a variety of delicacies as the Basileus's great reception. Andronikos had them put the dishes on a low table in front of them. “Have some oysters,” the eunuch suggested.

Elias reached into the plate, picked out an oyster that simmered in a rich garlicky sauce, and popped it into his mouth. Andronikos did the same, looking into his face as he bit his oyster in half, ate the rest, and sensually licked the sauce from his lips.

“I thank you, your Excellency, for your generosity in providing me and my squire such a magnificent lodging.”

Andronikos proffered different bowls and platters and asked, “And you are being served well, my lord, by my own servants?”

Elias nodded vigorously. Around a mouthful of rice and fruit that had been cooked in a dark-green leaf, he said “Indeed, most satisfactory.”
“And the girl. She pleases you?”

Elias looked up sharply. Blushing, he said, “Maliha? Well enough, my lord. I have not had much for her to do. She is willing enough.”

The older man looked down, as if trying to think how to say something. “You do not take her to your bed?”

Elias reddened further. Telling himself it might be a proper question for a host in this part of the world, he counseled himself to calm. “M-my lord, no. It is not necessary. I have no need of that… her.”

A pleased smile spirited across the eunuch’s lips. “If there is anything at all you require, my lord, do not hesitate to ask.”

“I did ask the young woman to make her known and wait for invitation to enter the chamber. I should like all the servants to do the same,” he asserted.

“I shall make it known. Never fear. Now let us enjoy this modest fare so we can relax and… talk… after.”

The meal was pleasing but did not leave one overfull. Andronikos continued to press wine and the hookah on Elias. Though the air in the tent was not hot, it was warm and fragrant. Elias took his cup and leaned back on the cushions, feeling more than a little somnolent.

“My lord, may I call you Elias? I insist you call me by my given name,” the eunuch said softly.

“But of course, Andronikos,” he replied and toasted him with wine.

Andronikos smiled and gazed up at the roof of the tent. The sun was creeping behind a thick tree, muting the light within. “In Germany, in your home, did you have a betrothed?”
“I did. I left… ah, her behind.”

“Did you have anyone… special? Besides her, of course.”

Elias thought about his brother. “There was one… fellow, like a brother to me, really.”

“A brother?”

“Yes, very much like a brother. He is no longer with us.”

“You mean he left the pilgrimage?”

“No….” Elias’s voice trailed off. “He passed on. He died.”

Andronikos lifted himself on his elbow and leaned closer. “Oh, my dear, how sad. I grieve for his loss, for your loss.”

Elias smiled gratefully. “I miss him terribly. So does Albre… so does my squire.”

Andronikos’s eyebrows lifted. “So?”

Elias closed his eyes. A languor had stolen over him. He thought he might drift off but lacked the volition to fight it. He felt Andronikos shift on the cushions. All at once, the eunuch was lying lightly on him, his arms on the cushions on either side of Elias’s waist. Elias’s eyes shot open to find Andronikos’s face inches from his own. His eyes were so full of desire that it took his breath away.

“Andronikos!” he breathed when he could speak again. The languor, the sensuality of the food, the drink, the scented air, the muted light and soft pillows made him want to let Andronikos sink down into him.

“My sweet, do not fear. I know the truth, your secret. It is safe with me.” He lifted his hand and stroked Elias’s cheek. “So soft, so smooth.”

“You know? How can you know?”

Andronikos reached for his throat and caressed it, letting his finger slip under the collar of his tunic. “I sense it. If you know what to look for, it is easy to see.”

***

Ahem.  We will leave Elias to deal with the amorous Byzantine and turn to the delicious platters of food and drink.

Constantinople, founded in 660 BCE and later renamed for the Emperor Constantine, had a ruling class of primarily Greek origin.  Its cuisine was therefore more Greek than Turkish or even Roman.  According to Rebecca and David Wendelken in an article quoted on Gode Cookery [link: http://www.godecookery.com/byznrec/byznrec.htm]:

"What did their food taste like? We have a number of earlier Greek cookbooks, such as Gastronomia by Archstratus (5th century BC), and we know what Greek cooking is like now. To tie them together we have the work of such scholars As Nicholas Tselementes, who traced back to earlier times such dishes as Keftedes (meatballs made with grain), Dolmades (grain and/or meat stuffed into vegetables or plant leaves and cooked), Moussake (a layered dish of meat, cheese and pasta or grain), Yuvarelakia (meat and/or grain dumplings cooked in broth), and Kakavia, the Greek version of Bouillabaise. He also traced back to the ancient Greeks the making of white sauce - using flour and fat to thicken a broth or milk mixture. Although some of these dishes are now known to the world by Turkish or European names (even the Greeks call white sauce "béchamel"), their origins are Greek. 

We know they ate three meals a day - breakfast, midday and supper. They had many fast days. While the lower classes made do with what they could get, the upper classes were served three courses at their midday and supper meals consisting of hors d'ouvres, a main course of fish or meat and a sweet course. They ate all kinds of fish and other seafood, meat including pork, and numerous types of fowl. There were many types of soups and stews and salads were popular. They liked a variety of cheeses and fruits were eaten both fresh and cooked. Fruits included apples, melons, dates, figs, grapes and pomegranates. Almonds, walnuts, and pistachios were used in many dishes as well as being eaten by themselves."

Let's look at a plausible recipe for Byzantine dolmades, the rice and fruit stuffed grape leaves Andronikos served to his seductee to help clear his palate after the aphrodisiacal oysters in garlic.  You will need olive oil, onions, uncooked rice, dill, pine nuts, salt, and your choice of Middle Eastern dried fruits, but apparently not testicles, judging by the prowess of the eunuch Andronikos.

Dolmades
Heat 1/4 cup of the olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat; cook onions until soft, about 5 minutes. Add the rice; cook, stirring until rice begins to color. Cover; lower heat to low. Cook 5 minutes. Stir in the water, dill, pine nuts, salt and freshly ground pepper, grape leaves and juice of two lemons.  Place a heaping teaspoon of the filling in the center of each grape leaf with the shiny surface down. Fold the sides of the leaf over the filling; roll up loosely (the rice will swell when cooked). Place rolls in layers in a Dutch oven.  Sprinkle with lemon juice. Add remaining 1/4 cup of olive oil and 1 1/12 cups hot water. Place a heatproof plate over the rolls to prevent them from opening. Cover; simmer over low heat 1 hour. Let cool in the pan; refrigerate until ready to serve. **

The fruit is my addition, so use your own choice, chopped up and simmer with the filling.

Wine Pairing
What wine would Andronikos ply Elias with, along with the repast and whatever was in that hookah (Colorado and Washington State only)?  It's a young adult novel, but for the adults who enjoy reading all types of fiction, you might try an Eastern Mediterranean wine. According to the Constantinople article in Wikipedia "During the crusades and after, western Europeans valued costly Greek wines. The best known varieties were Cretan wines from muscat grapes, Romania or Rumney (exported from Methoni in the western Peloponnese), and Malvasia or Malmsey (likely exported from Monemvasia)."  You might choose to serve it with one of the currently trendy yet ancient in origin Cretan white wines, such as Silva-Daskalakis Psithiros White, an award-winning wine that is a blend of Malvazia and Moschato. It exhibits a distinctive richness of aromas and offers a balanced mouth feel and long finish.  *** Something tells me Andronikos is definitely after a good mouth feel.

And while you are at it, why not read a chapter from BELOVED PILGRIM to your proposed inamorata.  The adventures of a Bavarian knight who, though born in a woman's body, has always known his heart and mind were that of a man, and who finds challenges, disillusion and a woman's love. in the disastrous Crusade of 1101.  You can get the ebook and paperback at Harmony Ink Press.

* From a now out-of-print publication called Early Period, issue #5, written and published by Rebecca and David Wendelken, original date unknown (circa late 1970s - early 1980s).
** From Food Network UK. See this recipe for quantities.
*** From Meet and Eat in Crete

AUTHOR BIO
Christopher Hawthorne Moss wrote his first short story when he was seven and has spent some of the happiest hours of his life fully involved with his colorful, passionate and often humorous characters. Moss spent some time away from fiction, writing content for websites before his first book came out under the name Nan Hawthorne in 1991. He has since become a novelist and is a prolific and popular blogger, the historical fiction editor for the GLBT Bookshelf, where you can find his short stories and thoughtful and expert book reviews. He lives in the Pacific Northwest with his husband of over thirty years and four doted-upon cats. He owns Shield-wall Productions at http://www.shield-wall.com. He welcomes comment from readers sent to christopherhmoss@gmail.

BLURB
It’s the time of the earliest Crusades, and Elisabeth has always known that deep inside she is not the young noblewoman she appears to be. When her twin brother falls victim to a mortal fever, she has her chance to take his identity and live as a man, a knight. Now Elias, he is on his way to the Holy Land, to adventure, passion and death in a vividly drawn medieval time where honor is rarely found where you expect it. Can a transgendered person "pass" among knights and soldiers and survive furious battle, deadly privations, moral uncertainty and treachery and return to his new-found love in the magnificent city of Constantinople?

Buy Beloved Pilgrim here.

Slow-Cooker Posole

This is what's for dinner at home tonight. It's a perfect and comforting blend of warmth and spice. It's also featured, along with several other recipes in my upcoming novel, Dinner at Home (May 2014/Dreamspinner Press).

Slow-Cooker Posole

Ingredients
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 medium onion, chopped
1 poblano pepper, diced
2 stalks celery sliced
4 tomatillos, peeled and quartered
1 pound boneless, skinless organic chicken thighs
2 cups chicken stock
14-1⁄2 ounce can hominy (I prefer gold, but white is fine too)
14-1⁄2 ounce can diced fire-roasted tomatoes (with chiles or other Mexican seasoning)
4 ounce can sliced jalapenos, with juice
2 tablespoons ground cumin
1 tablespoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon red pepper flakes or more to taste
Salt and pepper to taste

(Note: if you can find it, there is a specialty Mexican posole blend called Los Chileros Posole Spice Blend, sold in 1-oz packages in Mexican markets or grocery store international sections with the dried peppers (or on Amazon); it is excellent and really kicks up this recipe a notch. Just add the whole packet at the start of cooking.)

Directions
1. Combine all in slow cooker and cook on low for 7-8 hours (or high 4 hours).
2. At end of cooking time, pull out thighs and shred with two forks, return to pot.
3. Test seasonings, adding more salt and/or pepper if necessary.
4. Garnish with chopped cilantro, sliced radishes, cubed avocado, and lime juice. Tortillas or warm cornbread are also great on the side.

A Guest at the Table: LE Franks and her Jalapeño Caipirinha Cocktail!

When I invited myself onto Rick R. Reed’s new food blog, his only condition was that whatever I shared had to be potentially edible—and thematically relevant. It made me think about my own connection with food in my writing. It wasn’t until I met my current Beditor (beta is too casual a term for her advanced skill set) and she started leaving me global notes about how hungry my stories made her, I realized that one of the tools I use to inform a character or breath life into a scene is through the use of food. And apparently I do that a lot.

For my current story—6 Days to Valentine—I drew directly on an experience I had while attending the 2012 Gay Romance Literary Retreat that was held in Albuquerque, New Mexico at the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino.

That trip was magic for so many reasons I won’t go into here, but key among them was meeting one of their bartenders—a man who had apprenticed under a nationally recognized master mixologist.

The master had taken our bartender through every bottle of liquor on the shelves, one by one and they tasted them over time, and our bartender came to understand the nuances and flavor profiles of each one—and how they could be combined together in an infinite number of ways to make unexpected and magical concoctions.

He described the first original drink he ever made—inspired by his girlfriend—each ingredient reflected an element of their relationship or her personality. It included honey for her sweetness and fresh blackberries “for the darkness in every woman’s soul.” I’m sorry I wasn’t recording him in that moment, because his whole recipe read like an epic love poem.

He asked me what I wanted to drink, and I’m certain I rolled my eyes when he suggested rum. My palate runs to dry martini’s, straight distilled spirits without a lot of fillers. If I want sweet I head to the margarita end of the spectrum. Rum drinks make me shudder so I was a challenge for him—even he couldn’t make a rum drink I’d like. I recall he practically glowed and began weaving his magic as he pulled a tall, skinny green bottle off the shelf of cachaça—a white Brazilian rum.

I was fascinating as he narrated his steps. He muddled Serrano chilies and lime in the bottom of a pint glass, adding the cachaça and ice before shaking it. He strained it into a glass, dropped in fresh limes, and slid it across to me with a grin on his face. Before I even took a sip he knew he had me.

It was spicy and refreshing and tasted more like a highly elevated margarita than any rum drink I’d ever had. It was fantastic. And for the rest of the weekend he created new drinks for me, drawing on my personality and preferences he we went along.

When I returned home to the San Francisco Bay Area, I started writing 6 Days to Valentine, basing my character of Nick on my Albuquerque bartender, writing about a man, a mixologist too busy running a bar and socializing to have a life for himself. Though unlike the real-life bartender, Nick hasn’t found the perfect someone to invent his own drink for. In fact, I’m thinking he needs a man who will create one for him.

The following is a recipe from this class of cocktail—a close cousin to the actual drink he made me, shown in the photograph below. If you order it at a trendy bar by the name below you should get something very close to what I had in Albuquerque.

I hope you try this drink, and when the warmth slides across your tongue, you’ll think of a red desert at sunset and the heat of a kiss that only comes from true passion.

Jalapeño Caipirinha Cocktail

Serving Size: 1 cocktail
 1/2-3/4 lime, quartered
 1/2 fresh jalapeno, seeded
 1 tablespoon sugar
 3 ounces cachaça (sugarcane rum)

Directions:
1. In a cocktail shaker or pint beer glass, muddle the jalapeño pepper with the sugar and lime. Removing the jalapeño ribs and seeds will reduce the heat some, but what would be the fun in that?
2. Fill the glass with ice, then fill the glass with cachaça and stir up from the bottom or shake to mix.

How to "muddle" ingredients for a cocktail:
If using the glass, wrap a towel around it, in case it breaks. Using a muddler or back of a wooden spoon, crush ingredients against the sides and bottom. Don’t be shy. Mix so all ingredients are well married. Proceed with step 2 of cocktail directions. The goal here is to release the oils from the lime and chili – which means flavor.

LE Franks writes gay romance with a twist. Her books include Prodigal Wolf, co-written with Sara York, Snow Globe, and coming this spring, Can This Be True. Her current book, 6 Days to Valentine, releases on January 29th from Wilde City Press.

Blurb:
In Nick's perfect world, Valentine’s Day would be struck from the calendar. Nick’s dreams of a Happily Ever After were shredded long ago and the last thing he and his customers need is a bunch of happy loving couples rubbing it in their faces.

Bouncer Fat Boy Newman is willing to bet he knows Nick's heart better than he does. He has just six days to change Nick’s mind about romance and the holiday and the perfect man to do it.

Too bad it’s not him.
Too bad Nick's not going down without a fight.
Too bad Nick cheats.

Giveaway!
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Goodreads Author Page - LE Franks * LE Franks Blog * Facebook * Twitter * Website

Fish on Friday: Parmesan Crusted Tilapia and Arugula Salad

When I was a little Catholic boy growing up in the 1960s, fish on Friday was pretty much a given. For my mom, it was usually breaded cod, fried, a salad with oil and vinegar, and homemade mac and cheese. Hey, if we didn't eat this way, we'd go to Hell! I pity those poor fools burning down there now while the rest of us lapsed Catholics can munch away on meat on Friday with impunity.

When I cook, I often like to forge a connection to my past and these two recipes below do just that.

Parmesan Crusted Tilapia
2 tilapia (or other white fish) filets
1 egg, beaten
1/2 cup grated Parmesan (please grate it yourself! Parmigiano-Reggiano is a staple at my house)
3/4 cup panko bread crumbs (or make your own if you're inspired)
1 t red pepper flakes
1 t dried thyme
1 t dried basil
i t garlic power
salt and pepper to taste
olive oil

Heat skillet over medium-high heat and add in a tablespoon or two of olive oil. Mix breadcrumbs and seasonings on a plate. Rinse filets, pat dry, and season with salt and pepper. Dip in egg then in seasoned panko crumbs, coating both sides. Immediately place in hot skillet (you should hear a sizzle). Cook for 3-4 minutes, flip, and cook for another 3-4 minutes. Transfer to a plate.

Arugula, Blueberry, and Beecher Salad
Note: This is more of a technique, but the dressing below is one of my go-to salad dressings. I rarely buy store-bought dressings; this dressing is one example of why not. It's simple, fresh, and takes about a minute to make.

Everyday Dressing
In the bottom of a salad bowl, drizzle about a quarter cup of good quality olive oil, drop in 2-3 tablespoons of red wine vinegar, add in 2-3 cloves of crushed garlic (I use my mincer, but you can certainly mince with a knife, just make sure it's very fine). Whisk until the ingredients emulsify or come together with no separation.

Top the dressing with a couple big handfuls of baby arugula (or greens of your choice). I work with handfuls, but I am guessing about three cups for this amount of dressing. Sprinkle on a handful of fresh blueberries and about a quarter cup of your favorite cheese, coarsely grated or use a vegetable peeler. I like Seattle's own Beecher's Flagship with this.

Mix it all up with tongs and serve as a side with the fish. Up to you if you want to add a starch.

Yes, yes, I know this is going out on Monday. I'm just giving you time to shop and plan for it!

A Guest at the Table: Author Neil Plakcy Does Cheesecake

Foods of Bucks County
By Neil Plakcy 

In writing the golden retriever mysteries, set in a town very much like the one I grew up in, I’ve had the chance to revisit a lot of memories. Those memories, of course, include food. In the newest book in the series, WHOM DOG HATH JOINED (due out in March), my hero, Steve Levitan describes a visit to the Harvest Festival in his hometown of Stewart’s Crossing, Pennsylvania. Those familiar with Bucks County, halfway between Philadelphia and New York, may recognize a similarity to a festival called Yardley Harvest Days.

“The jazz band from the high school was playing off-key, and someone on the other side of the half-moon driveway was selling candy apples, guaranteed to rot the teeth of even the most careful eaters. The light breeze brought the sweet smell across to us, and I remembered going to Styer’s Farm Market when I was a kid. My mom wouldn’t buy me one of the apples, covered in a shiny red lacquer, but my dad would.”

Flea markets and festivals were staple events of my childhood, where I’d cadge a quarter or two from my parents and head for the funnel cake table, where someone poured a kind of pancake batter out of what looked like a watering can with a funnel-likespout. The ribbons of batter would swirl around on a hot griddle, creating a kind of heavy lace pancake, which was then dusted with powdered sugar.

Back in the 1960s, we had limited exposure to ethnic food. Our next-door neighbors, the Pappases, were Greek and owned a diner where you got coffee in paper cups with a squared key design around the rim and moussaka was an exotic dish. My parents and I drove into Chambersburg, the Italian neighborhood of Trenton (immortalized as “the Burg” in the Stephanie Plum books by Janet Evanovich) for pizza and pasta at Roman Hall, one of those old-time restaurants with maps of Italy on the placemats and posters of the Coliseum and the Leaning Tower of Pisa on the walls.

My family ate a lot of what we called “Jewish food” at home – chopped liver, chicken soup with matzo balls, lox and bagels, brisket and roast chicken. When I was in high school we had a Polish cleaning lady, Helen Wielninski, a heavy-set, big-busted woman in her sixties who came to us once a week in a flowered smock to rearrange the dust. If she was in a good mood, or we were celebrating a special occasion, she brought us a cheesecake, made according to her own special recipe. The cakes were baked in a springform pan, one with a spring on the side so the pan could be opened and a removable bottom, and they cracked in the middle while baking, giving you a sneak preview at all the rich goodness inside.

Making Helen’s cheesecake today is an exercise in nostalgia for me – for the days when I could eat four or five slices of cheesecake at once and not gain a single pound, when I could ride my bike anywhere in town and many of the stores where we shopped were owned by people my parents had grown up with. That’s the kind of place I’ve created in Stewart’s Crossing (though my hero watches his weight now.)

Helen's Cheesecake
1 cup graham cracker crumbs
1/4 cup melted butter
5 eight ounce cream cheese packages
8 eggs
3 tablespoons flour
dash salt
1 tsp vanilla
1 1/2 cups sugar
8 ounces chocolate mini-chips

Preheat the oven to 500° F. Open the cream cheese and leave it out to soften. Combine graham cracker crumbs and butter and press into the bottom of a 9" springform pan.

Cream the cheese with a wooden spoon, and then, using an electric beater, add in the eggs, one at a time. Then mix in the flour, sugar, salt and vanilla. Beat until there are no more lumps, then add in the chocolate mini-chips. (Regular size chips will sink to the bottom of the cake, which is fine if you want a chocolate layer down there. The mini-chips are small enough to remain suspended in the batter. You can also swirl in some chocolate syrup if you want.)

Pour into the springform pan, and bake at 500 degrees for 15 minutes. Turn the oven down to 250 degrees and bake for an additional 40 minutes. Then turn the oven off and let the cake cool in the oven for one hour.

I like this cake best after it has been refrigerated, but if you're too eager to wait it tastes just as good right out of the oven.

A Guest at the Table: Author Lane Hayes and Pasta Arrabbiata!

Thank you Rick for having me on your blog to chat about one of my personal favorite subjects… Food!! As an author I find myself incorporating parts of my own life in my work. Eating is a given. We’re human. We need food. Period. But the culinary experience is one that can go well beyond the basic necessity of basic nutrition. There are some great cooking shows that do a great job of showcasing how varied the experience can be. We might dine at a hip new bistro or an elegant restaurant or we may choose to make our own creations. Sometimes it’s all about tried and true recipes and other times, it’s about creating something special.

In my latest release with Dreamspinner Press, Better Than Chance, one of the MCs decides to make dinner for the other. Peter’s mother is from Cortona, Italy and he wants to make pasta from scratch as he was taught growing up. He states right from the beginning he may not be as skilled in the kitchen, however he has a couple of signature dishes… one of them being homemade pasta.

The following recipe is one I picked up on my last visit to Cortona in the summer of 2011. My husband and I took a fantastic cooking class and learned how to make basic pasta with Arrabbiata. It’s simple but delicious!

Basic Pasta Dough
Ingredients: 
1 cup pasta flour*
1 egg
3 Tablespoons water
Salt optional
*Note: Pasta flour is a blend of half all purpose flour and half semolina flour. Many cookbooks recommend using unbleached white flour.

Instructions:
Pile flour on clean work surface and make a hole in the middle. Add salt and egg into this indentation and start to mix with a fork (like making scrambled eggs) Now mix in the water pulling the flour in from the sides. Flour your hands and knead the dough until it is satiny. Wrap dough in cheese cloth (or wrap) and let rest for 20 minutes before rolling it out. There are many pasta cutters available to hand shape your dough as you prefer. And of course, running the dough through a pasta machine works too. *Fresh dough cooks quickly. 2-3 minutes in boiling water tops!

Arrabbiata Sauce
Arrabbiata is one of the simplest sauces to make because there are so few ingredients and very few steps. I know some recipes call for red wine and tomato paste, but I like to keep it simple.
Ingredients: 
¼ cup of olive oil
 4 teaspoons fresh minced garlic
5 large fresh tomatoes or 1 28oz can of diced tomatoes
1 teaspoon of red chili pepper *if you like it spicier, go for more!
Instructions: 
Heat olive oil and add garlic. Cook for 1 minute before adding tomatoes and chili peppers. I like to add fresh basil & black pepper to taste once the sauce is gently tossed with the pasta. That’s it! Seriously. Bon Appetit!

Lane Hayes Author of Better Than Chance

Blurb from Better Than Chance:
Jay Reynolds has a crush on his project leader at work, but an office romance with Peter Morgan isn't likely to happen since Peter is straight. Worse, Jay soon fears Peter is homophobic, and his initial infatuation turns to loathing. But one fateful night, Jay is forced to acknowledge things aren't quite as they seem with Peter. Suddenly, his crush is back and unbelievably, Peter is interested too.

They begin a “friends with benefits” arrangement, which becomes difficult for Jay when he starts falling for his sexy boss. Peter’s past issues keep him from committing, and Jay has to decide if he can be satisfied with friendship if Peter isn’t ready to take a chance on anything more.

Excerpt
“Close the door, Reynolds.” His tone was sharp and concise. No argument was expected or welcomed. I obeyed and waited for him to speak. He didn’t say a word. He pointed to a chair and directed me to sit with a simple wave of his hand as he began a slow pace around the perimeter of the small round table. It was like being stalked by a tiger. There was an electric air of danger in this tiny space and I had set it in motion. I clung to my anger. I wasn’t wrong. Was I?

Peter suddenly stopped. He stood at the other end of the table with his arms crossed over his broad chest. As usual he was impeccably dressed in a gorgeous dark suit tailored to perfection. His dark wavy hair seemed a little longer. I absently wondered if he was growing it out. But his dark furrowed brow and intense stare told me to keep my ponderings to myself. He wasn’t in the mood to chat about hair. He looked pissed.

“Explain yourself.”

I blinked twice. I was almost afraid of him, but I knew that was irrational. I had a legitimate reason for my outburst. I just wished I had been a bit more professional about it.

“Fine. I will.” Professional, I cautioned myself. Don’t get personal.

“You have given me rather baffling critiques, Mr. Morgan that I frankly find ridiculous and almost contrived in a way that suggests you want to point out the negative whether or not it has any bearing whatsoever to the project at hand.” Good, well said, I thought.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He looked genuinely perplexed.

“You know what I’m talking about!” I exploded. “Correct paragraph two, sentence one.... that’s one example! What was today’s going to be? Change the use of my pronoun from direct to indirect? Or is it an adjective that you want me to reconsider? Or...”

I had become so worked up that I didn’t register that he’d moved until he was three short feet away from me. He wore the strangest expression. It was a cross between tempered fury and frustration. He held up his hand in that authoritative way of his, demanding that I stop. Stop everything. Don’t talk. Don’t move. I waited like a deer in headlights to see what he’d do.

A fresh wave of adrenaline rushed through my veins as I found myself literally shoved up against the conference room wall with Peter’s large hand at my throat. I swallowed hard and looked into his dark angry eyes, his face was two short inches away from mine. His breath was warm against my cheek. He pulled back and shook his head as though puzzled by his own actions before he tightened his hold at my neck and covered my mouth with his own.

I could barely breathe. There was nowhere to hide, no retreat possible so I gave in. My mouth melted underneath his allowing the lip lock to become a kiss. A fiery passionate joining. Our tongues fought for dominance, licking and sucking. Peter’s hands trapped my head as he plunged even further into my mouth taking every last bit of control away from me. He ran his tongue over my lips before tracing a path along my jaw and biting my earlobes. I nudged him back with my nose and heard his low groan as he once again fused his mouth over mine.

I wrapped my arms around him and pulled his body close to mine. My hands kneaded his perfect ass through the fine fabric of his pants as I sent my hips forward to meet his. We gasped at the first feel of friction as our hardened cocks pressed together through our suits. It was electrifying and wickedly carnal. A mere glimpse into how intensely hot the real thing could be if we let ourselves go there. Peter stopped abruptly, straightening his arms on either side of my head. Our heavy breathing was the only sound in the room.

“I want you.” He growled, resting his forehead against mine.

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