One of my favorite things to eat as a kid was anything in a can with a "chef" or an "-ios" in the name. I thought I was an expert on Italian food. So sad that I thought that was Italian food. But there is something really special about tiny pasta tossed with thick, rich sauce to fill a rumbling tummy. I'm guessing though that if you're a mom, you'd rather not give your kids something that has enough to salt to sink a small water vessel. That's where I come in. Meet something that mimics the look and texture of the canned stuff but has the nutritional value and (much more importantly) the taste that no kid can say no to. You'll love this. Money-back guarantee.

You'll see a couple of ingredients that you might not have used before - leeks and Swiss chard. Both are awesome. I promise. Leeks look like giant scallions (or green onions) with this beautiful spring green color and a mild onion flavor that adds a subtle bite to any dish. So so good. Swiss chard is one of those elusive "dark, leafy greens" that we hear Dr. Oz talk so much about. It's a little bitter but in a good way. And if you buy it from a farmer or when it's in season, the colors will knock your socks off. One of the prettiest vegetables out there.

Tiny Pasta with Sausage and Swiss Chard
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• 1 lb. Italian sausage (chicken sausage works great here, too)
• 1-2 large leeks (I'll tell you how to cut them in a minute)
• 2-3 cloves of garlic, minced
• 1 big bundle of Swiss chard (you can do spinach, but then I'll know you're a vegetable wimp)
• one large can of crushed tomatoes
• 4 cups of water or chicken stock
• the juice of one small orange (and I don't mean Sunny D)
• 1 cup of tiny pasta (I used something called ditalini... super cute)

First, a word on leeks. They're really sandy, so you need to wash them well. The bizarro world part? You wash them after you cut them. So cut off the root end. Then cut off most of the dark green part. You're left with what looks like a vegetable version of a lightsaber. Man, I wish I had pictures! Cut that in half long ways, like you want to look inside the lightsaber. Now look at how beautiful this vegetable/Star-Wars-weapon is. Cut those into little half-moons. Now put those in a bowl of cold water to let the sand settle to the bottom. Just pick 'em up, shake 'em out, and drop 'em in the pan. Okay, let's cook.

1. Grab a big soup pot, and put it over medium-high heat. Cook the sausage until it's nice and brown, but don't worry about cooking it all the way through. It probably will, but don't be too worried. Take it out, throw it on a paper towel, and leave the fat in the pan. Or wipe it out and add a little olive oil if you'd rather.
2. Add the cut up and washed leeks to the pan. Season with salt and pepper, and let it cook for a couple of minutes. You might want to turn the heat down a bit if they're browning up too quickly.
3. Add the garlic for just a minute to soften it.
4. Now add the Swiss chard you cut up and washed. It'll wilt down once it hangs out in the heat. Season that with salt and pepper. Remember, here at MFK, we season every layer. 
5. Now add the tomatoes, water, and orange juice. Season again, and bring it to a bubble. You're going to cook the pasta in this, so you need some bubbles.
6. Add the pasta, keep it bubbling, and let it cook until the pasta is done and has soaked up a lot of the water. Yum.
7. Now add the sausage back to the pot as well as any salt and pepper if it still needs it. Allow it to simmer another ten minutes.

You now have a thick, sauage-a-roni type thing that you'll love feeding your kids. And we all know how much we love getting our kids to eat good stuff.

And in case you'd like to stick around for another minute, this dish is a great example of balancing flavors. Ready? Spicy sausage. Mild but slightly sweet leeks. Bitter Swiss chard. Acidic tomatoes with another bit of sweetness. Tangy orange juice that cuts through it all. Carby, savory pasta. All of these together make a really balanced, simple tasting bowlful. Think about covering all the types of flavors - spicy, sweet, salty, tangy, sour, etc. - and you'll get better and better at creating balance in your own kitchen.

Chicken is like your favorite pair of comfortable jeans. They might not be the cutest or most trendy in your closet, but they always work in a pinch. Chicken is just as versatile, comfortable, and perfect wherever, whenever. Here's one of its "outfits" you can try out.

I realize awesome is not an appetizingly descriptive word, but this chicken really is just awesome. It's simple, really tasty, a slightly different way to make chicken (at least in my house), and kind of special. I got the basic principle from Mark Bittman's mahvelous book, How to Cook Everything. And don't use the store's chicken cutlets. You'll pay more for nothing. Just get boneless, skinless chicken breasts, and pound them flat. Nothing it to it.

Chicken Cutlets
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• 2-3 chicken breasts, pounded thin, then cut in half (makes portions a bit easier)
• 1/2 cup flour or seasoned bread crumbs
• 2 tbsp. olive oil
• 2 tbsp. butter
• lemon juice (optional)
• freshly chopped parsley (optional)

1. Get a nice big skillet, add the oil and butter, and turn on over medium-heat. Let the butter melt and the fats heat up. When a pinch of flour sizzles in the oil, it's ready.
2. Season the chicken on both sides with salt and pepper. Put the flour on a plate or in a shallow bowl, and lightly coat one piece of chicken with the flour. Put that in the pan, and then flour the next piece. If you do it all at once, the flour gets gummy and gross.
3. You want a sizzle in the pan but not oil splattering everywhere. Turn the heat down if your kitchen sounds like the Fourth of July. Cook the chicken for 3-4 minutes on each side. Don't move it around once it's in there. Resist the urge! Otherwise, the breading will fall off, and the color will be gross.
4. The chicken is done when it feels a little firm. Cut into a piece if you're not sure. Squeeze some fresh lemon juice on top, and add a sprinkle of parsley. Fresh and delicious.

If you want to take another step or two, keep the chicken warm in a low oven, and make a reduction sauce. Add some white wine or chicken stock or even water to the pan with all of the yummy chicken crustiness. Let that bubble away until it reduces down a bit. Season it, add some butter, more parsley or lemon juice... whatever you want to make it taste yummy to you. Drizzle it over the chicken. Delicious.

My husband took me to a tiny hot dog joint on our first date. There were no candles or flowers or violin players. (Do people actually go on dates like that anymore?) We just sat on the concrete steps of what can only be described as a dive on a local college campus, bright pink hot dogs in one hand and homemade chocolate chip ice cream cones in the other, and watched the students walk past as we talked about how weird it was to actually be out together.

You see, my husband and I walked a long, rough road before we got to go on that first date. The cereal box version is that he was too old for me. I met him when I was fifteen; he was twenty-two. I know. Too old, Kendra. He was a volunteer with my high school youth group. I know again. Too old and way too creepy. But we liked each other. I understand my end. The wide-eyed teeny bopper crushing on the cool guitar-playing new staff guy. Him? If I had the courage, I'd show you a picture of myself when I was in high school. Who knows what the heck he was thinking. Okay, I have the courage. Shoot me now.

You like those bangs? Apparently he did. P.S. I also wore overalls practically every single day because one Sunday he told me I looked cute when I was wearing them. Yes, on the verge of inappropriate for him to say that to a high school sophomore but waaay more inappropriate that I looked like a farmer for three years.

But after those three years of liking each other and not being able to do a single doggone thing about it, it happened. I graduated high school. I finished the summer in my youth group. Then I went to a crummy hot dog joint with the sweetest man I've ever met for our first date. A year later, I had a ring. A year after that, I got another one. Seven years later, we have this.

Why bring this up? Well, it is the weekend of Valentine's Day, but that's only part of it. It's not that nice restaurants and grand romantic gestures aren't nice. I wouldn't turn one down. But we love that hot dog place. We love the experience of sitting and watching college students grab a bite after class. We love smiling at the little kids attacking their giant ice cream cones. We love the simplicity of comfort food that allows every bit of pretense to fade. I personally like wearing sneakers instead of heels. It's not just the hot dog or the ice cream (both of which are slammin' by the way). It's the experience. The simplicity. The calm.

The memory.

Kaz knew that about me, even before we held hands. He knew that I'd be excited about Yum Yum being our first experience together. (Yes, that's actually the name of the place.) Sometimes the simplest of meals, the most unassuming of places are the very things that make moments worth remembering. So don't get caught up in the fancy. Let the ice cream run down your arm and embrace the joy of the moment.