I was in the mood for seafood but the hunky BF wanted pasta.

What’s an over-achieving boot-licker to do?

Well combine both ideas and make everyone happy of course! This is another one of those made up recipes. I can’t take all the credit though, because the BF suggested combining them (and he chose the shell-shaped pasta whose sychronicity with the shellfish made me smile). I emailed my brother for more help and he suggested chorizo. He also chose the wine for this pairing.

Though, I share the credit– and I am not one to “tweet” my own horn (well maybe I am), I still have to say this is one of the best recipes I ever made up.

The word cioppino and the dish itself have become San Francisco classics. Still, its roots (even its name) may be Italian in origin. Which may lay some credence to the tale I have heard told that it was first brought to the American palate in the North Beach section of that great city by the bay.

This is one of those recipes. It seems like there are a lot of steps. It's best if you can do them over a day or two. But I promise you these are the very things that make this recipe so EASY! Because all the steps take only a few minutes of actual activity, and they can be done all at once or over several days. The cooking itself is a snap and can be made snappier with a self-timed oven.

The method of preserving the tuna is really more of an oil-poaching method. It's a wonderful method to master and can be adapted in so many ways– from salads, to main courses. I particularly like serving this tuna on toasted baguette slices with shards of red onion! So you see, it's worth the effort, because the technique will pay you back– I promise. I think I may have originally learned this method from an Alice Waters recipe. But I am pretty sure serving it with a Panzanella Salad was my idea! But don't quote me on it...

This recipe has other virtues as well. It is a great opportunity to use up that day old bread, and those less than ideal off-season tomatoes you stupidly bought. What were you thinking? Plus, it's fun to introduce new tastes to the people in your life who may take a bit of prodding when it comes to unusual or strong flavors. I consider it our duty to educate them.

I call it a Three Bean Winter Panzanella Salad with Preserved Tuna.

This is the fourth day of Meat & Potatoes. Which is a lot of these hearty starchy partners, I know. But I have promised a week of these satisfying meals– so plod on I must!

We started with a traditional Pot Roast. Well, not that traditional, because I roasted my veggies separate and gave the sauce a big swig of vinegar. Thus improving both the taste and texture of this one-dish-wonder.

Speaking of traditions. The French have a Lamb & Potatoes gratin of sorts that they call Lamb Champvallon. In Day 2 I tweeked tradition, re-wrote history and updated my version with a bold new spice and boneless chunks of succulent lamb.

So as not to appear ready to re-write the culinary history of just one country. I also let loose my imagination on the Scots. They have a traditional side dish made with Turnips & Potatoes that they call Neeps & Tatties. Well, Sippity Sup was named after a nursery rhyme afterall, so it just made sense to translate the lyrical nature in that phrase for my selfish purposes. So I came up with Neeps & Tattie-Cakes, making my version reminiscent of another great bit a children's verse. I chose to serve these Tattie-Cakes with Zinfandel Braised Short Ribs.

I have so many little people to thank for this recipe!

I never could have done it were it not for the bold pioneers who went before me. Although the inspiration for this recipe may come from many, I have decided to take all the credit myself! And if I cry and sniffle a little whilst taking all the credit, people will cheer me on as an underdog. The little guy who beat "the man".

That's me– The Little Engine That Could!  I believe this is the way you get ahead in the world, n'est-ce pas?

Because truthfully I did have many an inspiration when I sat down and started putting this recipe together. One of the primary "little people" involved in this dish is a quaint cook named Daniel Boulud. Perhaps you've heard if him? He runs a charming little self-named cafe on an island somewhere. It's a bit off the beaten track on East 76th Street, I believe. If you ever find yourself in that part of the world you must pop in. Tell him Sup! sez Hi...

Eating in truly exceptional restaurants is one of life's great joys in my opinion. Fortunately I live in Los Angeles where there is no shortage of such establishments. But for a variety of reasons (such as the state of my wallet) you can't always indulge yourself in this manner.

Still, sometimes you want to eat something special. Something particular. Maybe it's a regional specialty that you are craving. Perhaps it contains some unusual or hard to find ingredients. These are the times it pays to be a decent cook. But even decent cooks can get slammed up against the wall because when you crave something particular, something unusual there is the likely possibility that the corner market is not gonna carry all the items you need. How are you gonna make your particular culinary dream come true?

You could always improvise. There is a certain joy in creating something out of nothing. You could substitute a few anchovys for the Colatura di Alici in that special pasta you flipped over in that little seaside village south of Rome. You'd feel great, the pasta would be delicious, but deep inside you'd know it wasn't REALLY what you were craving.

I finally did it. I broke the spell and actually cooked. I don't mean reheated, or cold poached or relied on default memories of pastas long loved. I mean sat down, thought it out and created a completely original recipe using all of my faculties.

I had my synapses working in both directions. And we all know that synapses are essential to neuronal function, and without neuronal function there would be no such thing as really good cooking. Because neurons are specialized cells that pass signals to individual target cells. And neurons use synapses as the means by which they pass along pertinent information.

Information such as: "Gosh these pork loin chops look fabulous". And because the neurons I was using to view those loin chops at the meat counter this morning were able to share that information with other neurons in my brain the inkling of a recipe was born.

And I want you to know that without synapses the information I gleened by staring at those beautifull loin chops would have just sat in the receiving neuron never actually meeting its destiny. And in this case the destiny of that information may have started with a mere visual cue, but that cue was able to travel back and forth between neurons, telling my body what actions to take to transform those fabulous pork loins into the luscious, delicious, (if I say so myself) recipe that required all my cognitive skills to bring to you today! I think I even spelled it all correctly...

I am having a little trouble getting back into the swing of SippitySup this New Year. I don't know if it was my trip to Panama (details coming soon, I promise) or the Holidays... or possibly even something less defined, but lazy is the order of the day in my kitchen these past few days.

Still we gotta eat and I gotta feed you, my virtual eaters, too. So who says simple can't be spectacular?

But the thing about simple foods is in order for them to succeed you need to be sure the simple method you choose is not just simply a short cut, but rather the fast lane to perfection.

Root veggies are a great example of a food that can achieve perfection in the simplest of manners.

Sometime in our past we humans were digging around in the dirt and we hit about the idea of eating roots. The world has been a better place ever since!