I cannot call this a casserole. I grew up eating casseroles, subject to that generation of mothers who cooked with Campbells cans of soup, found Tupperware to be the rage and added crushed Ritz crackers or canned, fried onions to the top of—you guessed it—casseroles. (But I love you mom, and I still make that green bean mushroom soup fried onion topped casserole for Thanksgiving every year—and gobble accordingly). Mostly, though, I cannot call it a casserole because of the horrified expression that will attach itself to my husbands face, the fearful tone that will decidedly enter into his voice, and his overarching concern in what that sheer word—just by being uttered—might inflict on an otherwise perfectly nice ‘dish.’

So this dish has forever, awkwardly, been called my “Italian layered dish.” Which really, he might add, is appropriate since Italians don’t eat casserole. And he might be right (I haven’t heard of an Italian casserole—just ‘many ingredient dishes’ like lasagna, frittata and all things il forno). All great things Italian are layered one upon the other to make this divine dish: polenta, sausage, red sauce and mozzarella. I often serve it at parties and once quadrupled the recipe in two 9×13 aluminum pans to serve at a family reunion.

This dish is a keeper, in part because it is so homey and warming and unusual. It may pose as an understudy to lasagna, though is far easier to make and equally satisfying. This dish easily maintains a spot on my top 5 favorite dishes, specifically because it screams comfort food and easy entertaining.

So, when my husband asks me ‘what’s for dinner,’ and I reply—cheekily—that we are having the “Italian Layered Dish” [coughcasserolewheezesniff], an unreserved wave of enthusiasm comes over him. “You spoil me, he says,” and indeed I mean to:

“Italian layered dish”
For Polenta: (unless you buy the tube, then skip to Tomato Sauce)
3 cups whole milk
1 T butter
1 tsp sugar
1 tsp kosher salt
1 cup stone-ground yellow cornmeal

For Tomato Sauce: (unless you already made and saved this sauce; then skip to Layered Dish)
4 T olive oil
4 cloves garlic
6 Roma tomatoes
1 T oregano AND 2 T basil OR 1 T Italian Herbs
1 tsp kosher salt
pinch sugar
4 T tomato paste

For Layered Dish:
2/3 cup parmesan
1 T olive oil
1 LB mild (or hot if you like) Italian sausage, sauteed
8 oz fresh mozzarella sliced ¼ inch thick OR 8 oz shredded mozzarella

Preheat oven to 375. Make polenta: combine milk, butter, sugar and salt in heavy saucepan and heat to simmer. Slowly add cornmeal in thin stream, whisking constantly. Lower heat and stir with wooden spoon or rubber spatula (I use a silicone spatula) until mixture has thickened and begins to leave sides of pan, about 10 minutes. Off heat, mix in 1/3 cup parmesan and place in baking dish. (If using tube of polenta, crumble in bowl, add parmesan then press into bottom of pan).

Make tomato sauce: add 4 T olive oil to skillet over medium heat, add garlic, stirring until golden, 3 minutes. Add chopped tomatoes, herbs, salt and sugar. Simmer 15 minutes stirring occasionally, add 4 T tomato paste, blend and cook another 3 minutes. Meanwhile, sauté sausage in 1 T olive oil until cooked through.

Sprinkle ½ of the remaining parmesan over polenta, add layer of [all the] sausage, add layer of [all the] tomato sauce, sprinkle remaining parmesan, top with mozzarella and bake for 30-35 minutes (until bubbling). Let stand 10 minutes before serving.

Note: I have been known to buy polenta in a tube (sold by Whole Foods, Trader Joes), pre-shredded parmesan and mozzarella for those times when I am cutting myself some slack/taking a break/energy applied elsewhere. If you have made extra tomato sauce, or better yet canned some, then all of this adds to a removal of 2/3 the effort in making this dish. Other times I make the polenta from scratch (recipe above) and slice up fresh mozzarella. This dish is pretty forgiving, so use that oblong dish, or any baking pan roughly equivalent to an 8×8 square dish. 6 servings.

Never has a childhood ditty rung so true as the last week of 2006, when my family and I vacationed in a poetic, snowy cabin in the woods. Tucked in the forests of Montana, this quaint cabin offered a small bit of respite, a pile of snow-filled memories and my first experience cooking moose.

Here is the ditty:

I am hungry
I am hungry
table, table, here I come
I could eat a goose-moose burger,
15 pickles and a purple plum.

If you know the tune, so sorry because now it will be in your mind all day, popping up out of nowhere. If you don’t know it, just know that it is genuinely cute, silly and quite fun to sing loudly and haphazardly while seeking inspiration for cooking a moose—burger or otherwise.
The Montana neighbors offered us moose steaks for dinner. I had never cooked moose, but luckily I have an uncle who eats moose as often as he fills his gas tank. I called him for a step by step (think: cooking moose for dummies). He suggested I treat this lean, tough meat like Veal Picatta: sliced just over quarter of an inch, pounded with the grain, lightly floured with salt and pepper and flash fried. I didn’t cut it thin enough, though the rub I made wasn’t bad.

But I didn’t want to tell you about the moose, save for the fact that I had this ditty in my head while I was cooking the moose steaks. Though I was singing about Goose Moose Burgers, we had also received a package of ground Elk which I DID turn into burgers.

Now granted, I am probably losing friends left and right, eating all sorts of red meat, probably endangering species as I speak. The elk and moose were genuinely wild, organic and part of the natural food chain (what is a girl to do, they were already on a platter!). So, instead of Goose Moose Burgers, we ate Blue Cheese Fennel Elk Burgers; they were moist, bursting with flavor and truly cabin-in-the-woods worthy:

Blue Cheese Fennel Elk Burgers
1 LB ground Elk (okay, all you wooses can substitute beef)
3 T sauteed minced onion
3 T sauteed minced fennel
1/2-2/3 cup crumbled blue cheese

Mix all of the above ingredients, throw in a Tablespoon of Worcestershire or herbs if desired, and some salt and pepper. Then, grill away as you would any other burger.

I have hidden, sneaked, stuffed and murmured this recipe. I have not shared it. In fact, to this day I recall being asked for it and conveniently ‘forgetting’ the request. It is so good, such a shoo-in for hitting hero-like status—that one does not want to share the spotlight.

I made this recipe this Christmas for Santa, along with my kids who were decorating fiends, because the existing cookies we had made and stored in the freezer were simply, unequivocally, arguably, undeniably not good enough to leave with the sentimental glass of moo. No, in fact if gifts are being given, the cookies adorning the nearby plate should be heavenly, unsurpassed, the utmost and highest quality our kitchen can muster under late-night circumstances. And not just any cookie would do: it had to be our specifically shaped, soft buttery, melt-in-your-mouth lovingly-caressed-with-a-frosted-knife cookies.

The truth is, I couldn’t thoughtlessly pass along this treasured, well-hidden recipe without some namesake event. Not even blessing Santa was reason enough for me to share; but in the spirit of a New Year and the cumulation of a gift worthy of 365 days I give you this recipe to assist, bless and befriend you for 2007. This coveted, frosted sugar cookie recipe is my 2007 gift to you. It has been in hiding for over 15 years.

It should land in lunch boxes, make your children a star on their birthdays, find you new friends, party-crash any number of diets, ring in the next nearest celebration, buy you time at work, redeem you when needed, stand as a gift of love and/or buy you forgiveness. These cookies can be cut in hearts, cars, trucks and stars, and in the life of my children have been shaped into soccer balls, baseball and beach balls, Christmas trees, rockets and globes. We have formed stockings and pumpkins, sunshines, bats and easter eggs. Who gives frosted cookies anymore? They are such a scarce treat that even when I bring them to school, my boys’ friends eyes grow wide in utter amazement: “these, these are homemade?” and gobble them before you can sneeze. You would have thought I received the Pulizter or ran the iron man, they were that impressed.

These cookies will improve your standing in 2007. Santa loved them, my brothers love them, my boys love them, my friends love them, my sons’ friends adore them, and why shouldn’t they go weak in the knees? To you then, and hats off for all those resolutions going forward into 2007; herein lies the recipe to accompany your ongoing celebration of [all other] resolutions accomplished.

Frosted Sugar Cookies
1 1/2 cup powdered sugar
1 cup softened butter
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla
1/2 tsp almond flavoring
2 1/2 cups flour
1 tsp cream of tartar
1 tsp soda
1 tsp salt

(Good to double). Cream butter and sugar, add next 3. Add dry mix, refrigerate 1 hour plus (overnight fine). Roll 1/8 inch thick, cut shapes, bake 375 for 7-8 minutes.

Frosting
1/4 cup softened butter
1 tsp. vanilla
1/4 tsp salt
4 cups confectioners sugar
1/3 - 1/2 cup milk or cream
food coloring

Blend all, add desired amount of food coloring. Let cookies cool then frost.