May 4: Classic Creamy Chicken Salad

Holy Cheebs. I thought I had my yarn habit well in hand, and then today I fell totally off the wagon. It's not my fault though. It's the first weekend in May, which my Stitch & Bitch Nation page-a-day calendar just told me that the first weekend in May is the Maryland State Sheep and Wool festival. Not that there's anything wrong with it, but fiber artists are really a home-schooling, socially-awkward bunch of Mom-Jeans wearers. Sorry, maybe I shouldn't say that, but I thought knitting was becoming hipster, and it isn't by the looks of that crowd. There were nearly 300 vendors; the vendors sold a wider variety of yarns than even the most diverse local yarn shop that I've ever seen in my life, and I've never seen most of them before, and I couldn't afford almost any of them, but I did pick up some gorgeous natural cotton that is going to make a dreamy baby blanket, and my big splurge was a rayon-silk blend chenille that is so incredibly soft and drapey and gorgeous I couldn't resist even the $35 price tag. I've never spent anything even close to that for a skein of yarn before, but if you could see this thing, you'd understand it. The artist had washed it and it lofts up like a dream when you wash it, and I can't wait to cast this bad boy on.

So, of course, I'm pushing the Advanced Pantry back yet another day. And it is late and I am so freaking tired from running around out in the dirt and the hot that I can barely keep my eyes open.

It's spring, and I'm craving chicken salad sandwiches, inexplicably.

Classic Creamy Chicken Salad

2 whole bone-in, skin-on chicken breasts (large, at least 1 1/2 pounds each)
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
Table salt

For Salad
2 medium ribs celery, cut into small dice
2 medium scallions , white and green parts, minced
3/4 - 1 cup mayonnaise
1 1/2 - 2 tablespoons lemon juice from 1 small lemon
2 tablespoons minced fresh parsley leaves
Table salt and ground black pepper

1. Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 400 degrees. Set breasts on small, foil-lined jelly roll pan. Brush with oil and sprinkle generously with salt. Roast until meat thermometer inserted into thickest part of breast registers 160 degrees, 35 to 40 minutes. Cool to room temperature, remove skin and bones, and shread meat into bite-sized pieces (about 5 cups). (Can be wrapped in plastic and refrigerated for 2 days.)

2. Mix all salad ingredients (including chicken) together in large bowl, including salt and pepper to taste. Serve. (Can be covered and refrigerated overnight.)

April 17: Kentucky Hot Brown

Here I am in Kentucky, where I went to college, with my best friend, who is the cutest little pregnant person I've ever seen in my life. She barely even looks pregnant, and after spending the day with her, I am totally jealous that she's gained a total of about six pounds in seven months, because I just watched her wolf down a bowl of Ben & Jerry's Oatmeal Cookie ice cream with blackberries, as well as a bowl of lasagna at dinner and an order of onion rings at lunch.

I seriously love food here. We had Zaxby's for lunch, which, if you've never had it, has the best chicken fingers on earth. Kimberly and I have been looking forward to eating a whole bunch of fattening crap while I'm here, and today at Sam's Club we bought a chunk of smoked gouda that Kimberly argued with me bitterly about. She claims it's too much; I am not convinced that it is even enough. That is clearly the difference between her and me.

Kentucky has this sandwich. It's sort of a sandwich, I guess, it's more like a slice of bread with some stuff on it and what Kimberly and her husband describe as a "cheese gravy." That's pretty accurate. It's a local specialty, and I found the following recipe on the website for Kentucky Senator Mitch McConnell. Kimberly agreed that this recipe was the accurate one, but insisted that I say bad things about Mitch McConnell. I seriously just had this conversation with her:

Molly: I don't know anything about him.

Kimberly: Well, everybody knows, Molly.

Molly: I don't.

Kimberly: Well, he's just...he's one of the leading...He's bad!

Mitch McConnell, you may be just bad, but your recipe looks delicious. You forgot the tomato slice on top, though; Kimberly claims that it's essential.

KENTUCKY HOT BROWN
1/2 Stick Butter
6 Tablespoon Flour
3 Cups Warm Milk
6 Tablespoon Grated Parmesan Cheese
1 Beaten Egg
1 oz Cream, Whipped, Optional
Salt and White Pepper, to taste
Slices of Roast Turkey
8 - 12 Slices Trimmed Toast
Extra Parmesan Cheese, for topping
8 - 12 Strips Fried Bacon

Melt the butter and add enough flour to make a reasonable thick roux, enough to absorb all of the butter. Add milk and Parmesan. Add egg to thicken sauce, but do not boil. Remove from heat. Fold in whipped cream. Add salt and pepper. For each Hot Brown. Place two slices toast on a metal or flame-proof dish. Cover the toast with a liberal amount of turkey. Pour a generous amount of sauce over the turkey and toast. Sprinkle with additional Parmesan. Place entire dish under a broiler until the sauce is speckled brown and bubbly. Remove from broiler, cross two pieces of bacon on top and serve immediately. Serves 4 to 6.

April 15: Tax Day Sandwich

It is Tax Day. I usually love Tax Day, but this year, we are rich (comparitively so) and we have to pay in. We currently have no money to pay in with (how ironic) and so I've filed an extension. The emotional trauma of suddenly being $1500 poorer (oh dear Lord) has made me unable to cook an actual meal, so I have instituted a family tradition: a tax day sandwich.

I like sandwiches. This one is a rather unfriendly one; it has a lot of nitrites and sodium. And pork. But I'm not losing any sleep over the pork. This sandwich is going to ease my pain a little tonight. And believe me, I am $1500 poorer tonight. I have a lot of pain. I'm going to eat this with chips and some really excellent guacamole, and maybe have a drink. Or two. Or seven.

Tax Day Sandwich

4 large slices crusty peasant bread
12 slices smoked deli ham
12 slices smoked turkey
8 slices thick-cut peppered bacon, fried until crispy but not dry
4 slices swiss cheese
4 slices cheddar cheese
8 thin slices tomato
8 thin slices red onion
1/4 cup honey mustard

Preheat broiler, setting rack in closest position to broiler element.

Toast the bread lightly.

Lay each slice of bread on a rimmed baking sheet. Layer each with the following:

3 slices ham
3 slices turkey
1/4 of the honey mustard
2 slices bacon
2 slices tomato
1 slice Swiss

Broil 2 minutes, or until cheese is beginning to melt.

Layer each with the following:

2 slices red onion
1 slice cheddar

Broil an additional 3-4 minutes, until cheese is melty and lightly browned.

Use a spatula to transfer each sandwich to a plate. Drizzle with additional honey mustard, if desired. Serve immediately. Serves 4.

February 27: Lobster Rolls

That thing? The thing I wrote yesterday and a little bit today and posted right below here? Yeah, I still really, really mean it. Scroll down, read it, leave me a comment, and then come back. I'll wait.

Back? Great. Let's talk about lobster.

There are places I've not spent a great deal of time in my life and one of them is New England. Dan and I were talking, while we were on vacation, about places that we could retire to where we could live next to the ocean, have real winters, and not die from the humidity and heat in the summer. Maine came up, and Dan said "We could eat lobster all the time."

I understand (mostly from reading Stephen King novels) that people from Maine sort of poke fun at the tourists who come there to eat lobsters. Let me just say that Baltimore and points east don't have that problem with the tourists who come there to eat crab.

I could definitely live in a place where lobster is a staple of my diet, but it's mostly a delicacy now, and one I don't take advantage of, because mostly it's boiled to a rubbery fare-thee-well and totally inedible, or frozen so long it tastes mostly like iodine, and served in a restaurant that has the audacity to charge $24.99 for it. Lobster should be sweet, tender, briny, or I'll pass.

I can't remember where or when I saw this (probably on the Food Network, and years ago), but I once saw a chef preparing lobster rolls. A lobster roll is a New England regional specialty which consists of a plain white hot dog bun (chosen for its lack of anything to distract from the filling) stuffed full of lobster salad. Simple as can be. It looked amazing. Perfect.

This would be great, I think, for a casual get-together, especially as (knock on wood) the weather gets warmer. Serve it with coleslaw, chips, and cold beer.

Oh, and let me just say this about lobster: suck it up, okay? It's an ocean cockroach, it eats sea junk, it's the scourge of its own microcosm. Throw it in the pot and boil it, don't stand over the pot listening for it to scream. All current research says that they're not capable of feeling pain, so don't go and buy frozen lobster meat or any other ridiculous thing because you're squeamish; it's not the same. In looking at recipes for this, I found a site that illustrated how to keep a lobster's tail straight when cooking it, and it involved inserting a wooden skewer in a spot that...let's just say you wouldn't want a wooden skewer inserted in a corresponding place on your own person, but I'm not asking you to do that. Don't yell at me: I'm not all about the animal cruelty. But this is one time that I'm going to say that I'm at the top of the food chain and lobster tastes delicious, and my karma will just have to take the hit. This serves 4, maybe with a little salad left over to eat on a bed of greens the next day. Mmmmmmmm.

Lobster Rolls

4 Split top white hot dog rolls
4 large (1 1/2 lb.) live lobsters
1/2-2/3 cup mayonnaise, or to taste
2 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon fresh ground black pepper
4 scallions, white and about half of the green part, sliced thin
1 stalk celery, diced fine

Bring a large pot of water to a full rolling boil over high heat. Drop in the lobsters, lower heat to medium, and cover. Cook 8-9 minutes. Remove from pot and chill completely.

Remove meat from lobster: using a gentle twisting motion, separate the tail section from the body section. Break the claws away from the body. Use a sharp, very clean pair of kitchen shears to cut a slit down the tail section, and remove the meat. Use whatever means works best for you for removing the claw meat as well (I use a wooden skewer; those tiny forks just make a mess for me.)

Chop the meat into not-too-small chunks (maybe 1-inch chunks or so, maybe a little smaller.) Mix with mayo, salt, pepper, scallions and celery. This salad should be not too mayonnaise-y, but a little wet. Rely on your judgement and taste.

Pile lobster mixture into rolls. Serve.

February 9: Totally Inauthentic Philly Cheesesteak Sandwiches

Regional specialties ignite a firestorm of contempt in purists when they encounter someone who doesn't adhere to their strict standards. Want to infuriate a Texan? Serve them chili made with ground beef, tomatoes, and, worst of all, beans. Loathing in a Kentuckian? Screw up a Kentucky Hot Brown.

Philadelphians can be a little touchy about their local specialty, the Philly Cheesesteak. Did I say a little? Let me rephrase that. I'm guessing that homicides have been committed over less than this sandwich.

A true Philly consists of the following: thinly sliced ribeye steak and onions grilled on a griddle and served on a soft white roll with a glob of Cheez Whiz. Let me say that I have never tasted this exact concoction outside of the city limits of Philadelphia. Mostly what I've had is some kind of chopped, formed meat pressed into slices and fried with onions, sometimes peppers, and cheese, usually provolone.

I like something somewhere in between. Ribeye is expensive, somewhere in the neighborhood of $14 a pound, and it's too good to waste, in my opinion. Eye of round roast is economically feasable. Also, it's a lean, somewhat tough roast, well-suited to being thinly sliced and quickly fried, but still with good meaty flavor and texture.

And even for the sake of authenticity, I can barely stomach Cheez Whiz. One bite, and I'm eating my grandmother's boiled broccoli, drenched in the stuff. Blah. I like a good, strong, serious cheese, like aged provolone if you can find it, or smoked provolone, which is available almost everywhere now.

A Philadelphian would probably take a baseball bat to my car for serving this sandwich. I think it's so good it's almost worth it. It does require a food processor and a little prep time, but nothing outrageous. Forgive me, Philadelphia: I think this is even better than the real thing. This makes enough for six.

Totally Inauthentic Philly Cheesesteak Sandwiches

Ingredients
1 2-pound eye of round roast
1 white onion, peeled, both ends trimmed, cut in half through the ends, and sliced into 1/4-inch thick half-rounds
salt and pepper to taste
6 slices cheese (cheddar, provolone, or American)
6 hoagie rolls or 6-inch lengths of French bread
1 tbsp vegetable oil

Cut the roast into pieces that will fit in the feed tube of your food processor. Put on a plate and place in the freezer until the roast is partially frozen, about 1 hour.

Fit the food processor with the slicing disk and process the meat.

Heat 1 tablespoon of vegetable oil in a 12-inch nonstick skillet over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add onions and cook until softened and beginning to brown, about six minutes. Add the sliced beef to the pan. Cook, stirring occasionally with tongs, until completely browned. Add salt and pepper to taste. Lower heat to low, put the slices of cheese over the meat and cover the pan until cheese is melted, about 3 minutes.

Divide the meat between the rolls. Serve immediately.

February 8: Spiedies

My cousin Don used to work for IBM in Endicott, New York, on the Western side of the state. (He still works for IBM, but he lives in North Carolina now. This is in no way germaine to this story, but just for the sake of accuracy...you know.) One summer, when I was maybe 8 or 9 -- Don is maybe 15 or so years older than I -- he came home for a visit and announced that we were all having Spiedies.

Spiedies (pronounced spee-dees) are chunks of skewered chicken, although I guess a variety of meats are commonly used. They're marinated, grilled over charcoal, drizzled with fresh marinade, and served on a slice of Italian bread--the grocery store kind, with sesame seeds on top.

I can't explain to you how glorious this was. They were amazing, crusty, with a deep complexity, beautifully textured, served with a big bowl of my grandmother's cabbage salad--a recipe I'd love to give you, except that nobody in family seems to be able to reproduce it and she died four years ago--and my mother's exceptionally boring potato salad. I call it exceptionally boring because it is, and she even says so.

I forgot all about spiedies until ten years later, when I went away to college and my friend Ryan turned out to be from Westfield, NY, not terribly far from Endicott. Not only was Ryan familiar with this regional delicacy, he is almost as big a food nerd as I am. I don't know many 18-year-olds that served Sunday brunch to their friends in their college dorm rooms, but he did. And when I say brunch, I mean brunch: quiche lorraine, broiled grapefruit with brown sugar, vanilla french toast, country ham. That kid could throw down in the kitchen.

I seem to have forgotten about spiedies again until I heard some mention of them on NPR recently. Spiedies! Of course! Mmmmm, spiedies.

The recipe that I found for them uses beef, although you could really probably use chicken, or pork, or whatever else floats your boat. Not having tried this recipe, I have to say that I have serious reservations about the length of time that is called for in marinating, and the amount of acid in the marinade. At the risk of sounding like Alton Brown, acid turns meat fibers into mush. A mushy surface on your meat tastes...mushy. Consider reducing the marinating time, or not, as you see fit. I am not sure how many this would serve, the recipes that I found were all frustratingly non-specific. This seemed to be the simplest, most pure incarnation of a spiedie.

Spiedies

3 pounds boneless beef; cubed
1 cup olive or vegetable oil
1/2 cup dry white wine
3 tablespoons lemon juice
4 tablespoons worcestershire sauce
1/4 cup fresh sweet basil; chopped
4 cloves fresh garlic; chopped
3/4 cup italian parsley; chopped
3 tablespoons fresh mint; chopped
salt to taste
pepper to taste
Sliced loaf of Italian bread

Combine marinade ingredients. Reserve 1/2 cup of marinade.

Let meat marinate in refrigerator for three days in a non-reactive plastic, ceramic, or non-aluminum metal bowl.

Skewer; grill over hot coals. (A note: as it is currently winter, I would consider another medium. Like maybe your broiler, or a grill pan.) Using a slice of bread as an oven mitt, grasp the meat with one hand and remove the skewer with the other.

Drizzle the sandwiches with the reserved marinade. Serve immediately.

February 1: Hummus, Three Ways

Kimberly asked me about hummus in the comments yesterday. Clearly, my best friend has an excellent grasp on the depth and breadth of my love of dip of all kinds. Kimberly is trying to avoid becoming hopelessly bloated and swollen while pregnant and so is trying to reduce sodium by avoiding packaged products. Good for you, I say; I became hopelessly bloated and swollen while pregnant, and it is not comfortable for very long to keep your feet elevated above the level of your head.

Mmmm, hummus. I have recently been banned by my husband from making hummus, sadly, for two reasons: I love to throw so much garlic in it that I smell like a Middle Eastern restaurant, and because it lately hasn't been agreeing with me, and while I smell like a Middle Eastern restaurant, the air immediately surrounding me smells far worse. That might have been what my husband refers to as an "over-share."

And even worse, I don't really have a recipe per se for hummus. I find most of the recipes for them really unsatisfying, except for one in a cookbook called Pita the Great. But hummus is really nothing more than a Middle-Eastern bean dip, made even better by the addition of chewy, toasty pita bread chips drizzled with a little olive oil and baked in the oven. I make hummus with pantry staples in varying amounts, based on what I'm craving. Spicy? More cayenne. Tarty? More lemon juice. Plus, you can add all kinds of things to hummus, and add hummus to all kinds of things.

I am worried I oversold this recipe slightly to Kimberly as being "not a lot of work." Our standards might be a little different in this regard. But it won't kill you, and in fact might make you a convert.

One note about chickpeas: most canned chickpeas come with a funny skin on them. This will not ruin your hummus, but I am sort of a freak. I individually hull each chickpea because I am a freak for that great smooth texture. Also, because I am just kind of a freak, in general.

And also, one note about garlic: Look, I will admit it. I do over-do the garlic in the hummus a little. Add less if you want. But the whole skillet toasting thing I am about to describe will tame some of the garlicky garlic-ness. If it's a step you'd rather skip, than by all means, consider this nothing more than a guideline, but maybe you might, you know, hold it back to maybe three cloves of garlic. Or less.

Basic Hummus
1 can chickpeas (garbanzo beans), drained and rinsed
2 tablespoons tahini (sesame seed paste)
5 cloves garlic
2 tablespoons lemon juice, or to taste
pinch cayenne pepper
salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
Olive oil (approximately 1/4 cup, plus extra for drizzling, if you drizzle, depending on how loose you like your hummus and how much lemon juice you add)

For garnish:
1/2 cup pitted, chopped kalamata olives
cayenne
olive oil
1 tablespoon fresh chopped parsley

Heat a small skillet over medium-high heat. Put the peeled whole garlic cloves in the pan. Shaking the pan every few seconds, toast the garlic until it begins to darken, 3-5 minutes total. Remove, cool slightly. Don't let it burn. If it burns throw it out and start over; it will be gross and bitter.

If you decide not to toast your garlic, mince it or press it.

In a food processor fitted with the chopping blade, put all the ingredients but the olive oil and garnishes. Process 30 seconds, or until things are well-chopped and combined. With the blade running, slowly pour in the olive oil until everything forms a cohesive thick texture, or not so thick, depending on what you like.

Chill for an hour or so to let the flavors meld together. Garnish it with a drizzle of olive oil, a handful of chopped olives, a sprinkle of cayenne, a smidge of parsley, or any combination of any of these. Serve with toasted pita wedges tossed with 2 tablespoons olive oil and toasted in a 350 oven until lightly golden. If you don't want all the excess bad stuff, you can serve with cucumber slices and baby carrots.

The following is easy and a little more luxurious, sort of a cross between bean dip and a Middle Eastern fondue. Still great with toasted pita, or maybe grilled French bread rounds.

Hot Hummus With Feta and Olives
1 recipe of hummus (see above)
1 cup crumbled feta cheese
1 cup pitted, chopped kalamata olives

Preheat oven to 350.

Put hummus in a heatproof oven-safe dish. Stir in feta and olives.

Bake hummus for 15-20 minutes, or until the dish is hot and cheese is melted. Serve. If needed, keep warm in a chafing dish.

Here's what to do with your leftover hummus: make a great veggie wrap. This is a veggie wrap even a meat-eater could love. It's very adaptable--add more stuff you like, leave out whatever you don't like.

Veggie Wrap With Avocado and Hummus

1 cup leftover hummus
4 slices smoked provolone cheese, cut in half lengthwise
1 ripe avocado, peeled and sliced
1/4 red onion, thinly sliced
1 tomato, diced
1 cup romaine lettuce, chopped
1/2 cup chopped kalamata olives
salt and pepper to taste
4 10-inch flour tortillas

Divide hummus evenly and spread on tortillas. Down the middle of each tortilla, layer cheese, avocado slices, onion, tomatoes, lettuce, and olives. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Fold in right and left ends of tortilla and wrap from bottom up. Cut each tortilla in half on an angle and if needed, secure with a toothpick. Serve.

January 13: Sandwich Combinations

Well, now I'm pretty sure that I've got what Dan's got, and I feel like a sack of refried crap. It's the curse of living with a teacher--everything that his filthy little knuckleheads bring to school, he gets, and brings home, and gives to Max and I. This is my second illness since Christmas.

When you feel this bad, why cook? Make sandwiches. That's why they invented sandwiches, so you could eat something when you feel like death. The America's Test Kitchen Family Cookbook has a list of favorite sandwich combinations. None is complicated or fussy, and they all go so much farther than turkey and mustard on bread.

I think a few different kinds of these for a low-key lunch with friends or for an informal bridal or baby shower, along with a couple of soups and a big green salad and some kind of decadent dessert, would be great. Or maybe when you have the plague and you still need some kind of fuel to keep you moving forward. Feed a cold, or whatever.

All of the dressings, mayonnaises, and salads listed have recipes in the same cookbook. If there's one you'd like specifically, email me and I'll send you the recipe, but please believe me when I tell you that I didn't have the energy to type up all of these recipes.

Roast Beef with Boursin and Arugula
Roast beef
Boursin cheese
Thinly sliced red onion
Arugula
Sourdough bread

Ham and Smoked Gouda with Sweet and Sour Pickles
Black Forest ham
Smoked gouda cheese
Sweet and Sour pickles
Whole grain mustard
Marble rye bread

Prosciutto with Goat Cheese and Radicchio
Prosciutto
Goat cheese
Shredded radicchio
Balsalmic vinaigrette
Olive bread

Roast Turkey with Cheddar and Apple
Roast turkey
Cheddar cheese
Sliced Granny Smith apple
Mango chutney
French bread

Smoked Turkey with Havarti and Watercress
Smoked turkey
Havarti cheese
watercress
Lemon-Herb mayonnaise
Baguette

Roast Turkey with Avacado and Sprouts
Roast turkey
Sliced avacado
Sprouts
Honey mustard
Whole wheat bread

Mozzarella with Roasted Red Peppers and Pesto
Fresh mozzerella
Roasted red peppers
Pesto
Foccacia

Spinach and Feta with Sun-Dried Tomatoes
Baby spinach
Sun-dried tomatoes
Garlic mayonnaise
Pita bread

Chicken Salad with Fennel and Green Goddess Dressing
Classic chicken salad
Thinly sliced fennel
Green Goddess dressing

Peanut Butter and Apple with Honey
Peanut Butter
Sliced Granny Smith apples
Honey
Cinnamon-Raisin Bagel

Hazelnut Spread with Bananas and Toasted Walnuts
Nutella spread
Sliced bananas
Toasted walnuts
Whole grain bread

Tuna Salad with Tomato, Tapenade, and Feta
Classic tuna salad
Sliced tomato
Tapanade
Feta cheese
Romaine lettuce
Sandwich wrap

Egg Salad with Bacon and Radishes
Classic egg salad
crumbled bacon
Thinly sliced radishes
Bibb lettuce
Toasted challah

B.L.T. with Avacado and Chipotle Mayonnaise
Bacon
Leaf Lettuce
Sliced tomato
Sliced avacado
Chipotle mayonnaise
Flour tortilla

January 12: The World's Easiest Meatball Subs

Oh hell, Dan has the flu. He has a high fever and muscle aches and congestion and cough and general male malaise that is really making life miserable for the whole family at the moment. He is complaining that he is queasy, and yet he wants to eat everything in sight, burning all these calories as his body tries to kill him.

The easiest standby imaginable when he is sick and I need an easy, hearty dinner is these sandwiches. He loves them, and the only cooking they require is to heat the meatballs and maybe pop them under the broiler to melt the cheese. He requested these tonight, and they are so easy and he is so sick, I couldn't possibly tell him no, even though it's Saturday night, the night when I generally put a little more effort into dinner. Besides, Max is kicking my ass tonight--I'm the only one in any kind of shape to entertain him, and this little person is unusually demanding today. It's that kind of a night. Makes 4 servings.

The World's Easiest Meatball Subs

12 frozen meatballs, or about 1 pound
1 cup tomato sauce (I like Muir Glen Organic's crushed tomatoes)
1 clove garlic, minced or pressed through a garlic press
1/8 tsp of crushed dried red chile
salt and pepper to taste
1/8 pound sliced provolone cheese, in four slices
4 hot dog buns

Preheat oven to 350. On a cookie sheet with a Silpat mat, or lined with foil and sprayed with nonstick spray, cook the meatballs until hot, about 20-25 minutes.

While meatballs cook, make sauce: in a small skillet or saucier, combine tomatoes, chile, garlic, and salt and pepper to taste over medium heat. Simmer 8-10 minutes.

Drain fat from meatballs. Toss in sauce. Preheat broiler.

Put three meatballs in each hot dog bun. Top with cheese. Run under broiler for 2-3 minutes, until cheese is melted and bubbly.