A Heapin' Helpin' of Good Cheer

The stockings are hung on the chimney, though I can't say much care went into the process. The bells are jingling, the stars are twinkling, and the egg is nogging. It's the countdown to that ever-so special time of year. While clock ticks away the final moments of the 2009 Noel, I feel that some preliminary recollections are in order. But, in the spirit of the season, I think I'll save those momento mori for next week. While this year has certainly held some wonderful surprises for yours truly, there have certainly been a tad too many ebbs to counteract the flow. I'm occasionally feeling like Joseph deeling with the years of few, though I can't seem to find my techincolor dreamcoat anywhere. I've seen the passing of some dear friends. I've also closed the book on a few personal relationships that have left their share of scars. It's been a tough market year, and my wallet gasps for breath everytime a bill arrives. Not one to spend my time enumerating all my "woes are me", I think I'll move on to the plus side of having a crappy snappy year: giant meals of food!
Yes, if there is a meat-flavored silver lining to every dark cloud, then it would have to be that collection of heart-warming recipes that you keep secure until the days when the long night begins to set in. Not that a good meal is the best medicine, but a nice dish cooked with the right blend of special herbs and feeling can make the dreary, depressing, cold-cruel world seem a little more tolerable. I think it's fair to say that the past few weeks haven't been filled with as much bliss as I would prefer. I decided that I was going to rectify this slump by going to visit an old friend: comfort food.
The dish I'm going to regale you with today is one of my personal favorites. It's not particularly fancy. It's not exotic, expensive, or difficult to make. It's just good, old-fashioned love in a casserole dish. If you should find yourself in a melancholic mood, this is the perfect meal for you. There's enough to feed some friends (who should be caring enough to help you through whatever tragedy du jour has befallen you of late), it's fun to create, and you will genuinely feel your spirits lift and waistband expand all in the name of culinary relief. Ladies and gummyworms, may I proudly present to you the aptly named: DIVINE CASSEROLE!

To be honest, I have no idea where this recipe orginates. I am a confessed foody who revels in his own refined palate. I have a taste for the luxurious, and a desire to indulge my most extravagant gastronomical dreams. But this dish doesn't really fall into the category of the white-linen fare. It probably wouldn't appear on the menu of the restaurant elite, but that's part of the charm of this dish. I fondly remember my mother introducing this to our family when we were growing up. Though I don't remember exactly when she cooked it the first time, I do remember it being a weekly staple for my formative years. And it was a staple that I looked forward to with more relish than taco tuesdays.
The ingredients: Meat, pasta, cheese, sauce, and every good thought you can muster.
Cooking should never be overindulgent. Cooking should be about preparing something that will satisfy your hunger in the best possible way. It's not just about filling your belly, but it's equally important to provide a sustenance that encompasses your very being. Otherwise, we'd eat raw meat and drink water. Cooking allows us to express ourselves through our creations. This dish isn't about flair, or fanciful design. It's about taking good food, and making it better, deliciously more palatable, and truly satiating.
To start, take 2 lbs of ground meat. Generally I prefer round or sirloin (when the budget allows). Occasionally I'll replace 1 lb of beef with a pound of sausage to get a nice flavorful mix. Brown the meat and add in your favorite tomato sauce. At this point in the recipe, it's more about what you prefer than what I like. Whatever you like to do to a simple meat sauce, now is the time to make it happen! I will also add some garlic, and chopped onion. By the time you have the meat mixing with the sauce, the aroma should start to take its' effect. If you're still pissy or sad, you should let the fragrant meat bouquet begin to ease the negative out of your system.
Now for the pasta: Generally I'll use egg noodles for this dish, but if you have a certain nostalgic preferment for another type of pasta, then by all means substitute. I opt for the egg noodles because I think their consistency really compliments the meat sauce. You want something that I will hold up in the oven as you will eventually put this in the oven.
While your noodles are cooking (in seasoned water, of course), mix together 8 oz. of sour cream, one block of cream cheese, and a container of cottage cheese. Feel free to taste test this blend. If your spirits weren't feeling the improvement while the meat was cooking, a little spoonful of this should give your mood a shimmy and a shake. To add a bit of textural flavor, chop up a few green onions.
Once the noodles are ready, strain them and pour half of them into a large casserole dish. Layer the cheese mixture over the noodles, then add the rest of the noodles. Top off the dish with your meat sauce. A little sprinkling of parmesan cheese might just do the trick if you're feeling extra blue. Put the dish into an oven pre-heated to 350 degrees. Cook for about 30-45 minutes.
Now, if you're dining alone, I might suggest that you go easy onthe wine as no problem gets that much better with vintage. If you're having friends over, this dish pairs well with a big, full-bodied cabernet, or a zinfandel. You want a good hearty wine.

After you've eaten, if you don't feel even the slightest bit better, perhaps your problems are just too deep for one helping. Go ahead and pile another serving on that plate and let the magic of the casserole work its' divine power on your psyche. Or may I suggest punching a small child?