Sunday Recipe: Killer Butternut Squash Tacos with Salsa Verde

I'm always trying to think of new ways to eat tacos. I never tire of wrapping things in tortillas with some lime and some heat. I've filled tacos with beef and pork and chicken and fish and turkey. I've roasted meat and grilled meat and cooked it stove-top. I've cooked black beans and pinto beans and pidgeon peas for taco filling. And so, not surprisingly, I was thinking about how to make a vegetarian taco that had more vegetables.

Butternut squash to the rescue. I like to serve these with salsa verde, so I've included that recipe, too.

Let me say here that I made this dish for my cousin and her kids (both aged 16). All of them loved it. The point being -- serve this to your family and they won't mind at all missing meat for one night. In fact, I'm having a hankering right now.

Matt Cooke's Baggage

For a decade, Matt Cooke was among the dirtiest players in the NHL. He had a game beyond the cheap stuff, but still, if there was a questionable hit to be thrown, he threw it. If he could take a guy out, he did. When he arrived in Pittsburgh in 2008, I was torn. I absolutely loved the rest of Cooke's game, but the head-hunting bothered me. Watching him over the years, I loved his energy and the way he crashed the net. I loved how hard he played. But the flagrant elbows to the head and the reckless disregard for player safety troubled me. I wrote about how much it bothered me a number of times, in a number of places, but the two I remember writing were after Cooke's hit left Marc Savard positively lifeless on the ice and after he threw a flagrant elbow to the head of Ryan McDonough. Those were some of the worst hits I've seen, the kind of hits which need to be completely eliminated from the game.

After Cooke missed the remainder of the 2010-2011 season (serving the suspension of the McDonough hit), he was basically on notice by the team. Pittsburgh Penguins GM Ray Shero told him -- one more strike and you're out. In the summer of 2011, Cooke did some soul searching. He sought advice from a number of sources. He decided to play the game differently and worked hard to learn how to do just that.

Would No Halftime Entertainment at SB XLVIII Be Such a Bad Thing?

As I look out my window at the freezing rain, landing quite nicely on the already icy snow blanketing my yard, I can't help but think:  Yippee! The Super Bowl will be played in weather just like this next year! (That's Super Bowl XLVIII [or 48 for you non-ancient Roman types.])

As a television event, the biggest game of the year is not aimed at nor produced for actual football fans. It has become an event designed to gin up interest in the sport, sell stuff, create a raging river of revenue and appeal to the non-football fans. For those who actually attend, the Super Bowl is an event which is decidedly not designed for people of my ilk, which is to say, football fans. Nay. The Super Bowl is for the suits, the corporate ticket holders and such of that ilk. If they freeze in a snow squall or freezing rain? Well, fine by me.

What if Alex Ovechkin Hired Randy Moss as a Life-Coach?

Randy Moss and Alexander Ovechkin walk into a bar. They sit at table and order drinks. What follows is an exact transcript of their conversation.

"Hey," says Alex, "sorry about the Super Bowl and everything."

"Thanks, man. That does hurt. But you know, I didn't ask you out because of the Supe. I wanted to say something to you I've never said to anybody else."

Alex is puzzled. He gives Randy his best rakish super-villian grin and waits.

"You know, you remind me a lot of me," Randy says.

"I didn't know you watched hockey."

"Nobody knows I do. I keep that on the DL. You know, I have a Hershey Bears sweater? Don't tell anybody, right? Anyway. I really wanted to tell you that ... well, you know how on media day I said that I was the best receiver ever?"

"Heard that."

Randy takes a deep breath, "What I meant to say was that I was the most talented receiver ever."

"I grew up in Moscow and even I know that Jerry Rice does hold the record for most receiving yards," says Alex, flashing that playful KGB grin again.

Best of New Orleans, the 2013 Report

Last year, I made a week long walking, dancing and eating pilgrimage to New Orleans. This year, I returned, for a much shorter trip and the difference from January, 2012 to January, 2013 is remarkable. It feels like, finally, after Katrina and the federal flood, the city has turned a corner. I was hoping to revisit some of the joints I went to last year, particularly Liuzza's (for the world's greatest gumbo) and Parkway for the astronomically great Po'Boys. However, there is only so much eating that one can pack into a short trip, so we hit all new spots.

If you're in New Orleans for the Super Bowl insanity, or will be there for the Mardi Gras insanity, or are planning a trip just because (as I do), these are the some of the highlights of my recent vigil.

Cake Bakery

Cake Bakery. This trip was not the first time I've been to Cake Bakery. It's right around the corner from where I stay in the Crescent City, but proximity is hardly the main recommendation for me. It's a charming little joint full of a diverse clientele -- ordinary looking workaday folks, older people, tattooed crusty punks, transgendered people and even David Simon. (Seriously, we chatted at Cake last year.) But although the clientele is fun, it isn't the main recommendation:  the biscuits are.

Freshly baked biscuits as big as your head, with homeade jam, which is not overly sweet, but rather is very fruity and tart and perfect on these amazing biscuits. Just a biscuit, jam and a side of bacon is plenty of breakfast to get you going all day long.

Favorite Moments from the 2012 NFL Season

I know something amazing might happen today, the final regular season week of the NFL, but the following have been the most entertaining moments of the season for me. Hey, one team which shall remain nameless (but is spelled 'J-E-T-S, Jets, Jets, Jets') makes the list three times. Three!

10.  The Resignation of Fireman Ed as the ad hoc head cheerleader for the New York Jets. Can you actually resign from this sort of thing? Is there a letter or some formal written notification that must be submitted? Did Fireman Ed call up Woody Johnson and tender his resignation? How did this go down? I want to know.

Ad fucking hoc

Aggressively Mediocre: Your 2012 Pittsburgh Steelers

The 2012 Steelers give even the great Ryan Clark a headache

I have watched less talented teams in my lifetime in black and gold, but I have never watched a more disappointing team.

Oakland 34, Pittsburgh 31.
Tennessee 26, Pittsburgh 23.
Kansas City 13, Pittsburgh 16. (Yeah. I know they won. But needing OT against the Chiefs? In Pittsburgh, for cripes sake? C'mon.)
Cleveland 20, Pittsburgh 14.
San Diego 34, Pittsburgh 24.

No team with those five games on their resume has any business at all in the post-season. And so, the season is over, golf course reservations are made and, frankly, some long soul searching needs to happen at Heinz Field. Not to overstate this, but the Steelers have some things to figure out. Every time they were presented with an opportunity this season, they fell short -- sometimes by a hair and sometimes by a country mile.

Tags Lays the Hammer on Goodell and Other Thoughts on NFL Player Safety

The other day, Roger Goodell’s old boss Paul Tagliabue took his former protege down a few pegs when he completely overturned Goodell’s rulings on four former and current Saints players. Initially, commissioner Goodell suspended Jonathan Vilma for the entire season, Will Smith for four games, Scott Fujita (now with the Browns) for three games and Anthony Hargrove (a free agent) for eight games. 

In man hours, that’s a total of 31 games suspended. Reduced to ZERO by Tags. It was the right call. And not just because I enjoy seeing Goodell with a bit of omelette on his face, but because I think the NFL can change in a really productive way at this moment.

Mike Tomlin's Achilles Heel

Every coach has one. You can point to it with even the most successful of coaches. Some coaches are great tacticians (usually on one side of the ball or the other), but aren't good with personnel. Some are great at preparing their team, but not so good in game situations. Some are terrible clock managers. The knock on some guys is that they simply can't win the big one. And those are the good coaches, bear in mind.

In the five years that I've watched Mike Tomlin, I wondered about his flaw and how it might manifest itself. After the Steelers shit the bed against a bad San Diego Chargers team at Heinz Field on Sunday, I realize what that flaw is -- his teams underperform against 'lesser' teams.

Call it an achilles heel or a blind spot, this seems to be an area where he struggles. Maybe he lacks a specific talent or an ability to see this as a problem. Whatever it is -- willfulness or simply a skill deficit -- this is more than a trend. It has become a very pronounced pattern.

Rashard Mendenhall: To Fumble or Not to Fumble? That Is the Question

Steelers Coach Mike Tomlin made it a point in his press conference this week to point out that he had re-configured his depth chart vis-a-vis running back. Call it blowing smoke or sending a message; view it as speaking through the media to his players or sheer egotism. But however you see it, Tomlin made it clear that (for the time being) Jonathan Dwyer was the starting running back, with Isaac Redman the 3rd down guy and Rashard Mendenhall in a lesser role.

It's a heckuva role for a former first round draft pick to be in.

Sunday Recipe: Aunt Fulmay's Sunday Dinner Spaghetti Sauce

My great-aunt Fulmay as a very young woman

My Aunt Fulmay was actually my great aunt -- my grandmother's (older?) sister. Though her given name was Philomena (after St. Philomena) everybody in the family called her Fulmay. [Her friends from beauty school called her Philly, a great nickname for Philomena.] Growing up in Western Pa., the name Fulmay never seemed odd to me, but when I got to college, none of my college friends could pronounce Fulmay (I have no idea why), but they always said Phoo-May, as though she were of Asian descent, rather than Italian.

In a family full of great home-style cooks, all of them with big personalities, my Aunt Fulmay had one of the bigger personalities. I was modified-vegetarian through most of my 20's (I ate fish and dairy, but nothing that walked the earth.) Aunt Fulmay told me to come up for a roasted chicken and when I told her I was vegetarian, she screeched, "But honey! What do you eat?!"

Then, she offered to make pork instead. True story.

Sunday Recipe: Italian Wedding Soup Re-Imagined

Pietransieri -- the source of great recipes and culinary inspiration

If you aren't Italian and if you didn't grow up in Pittsburgh, you may not even know what Italian Wedding Soup is. It's a sad state of affairs, I know. For the uninitiated, wedding soup is chicken broth, with baby meatballs, greens (usually escarole or spinach) and tiny pasta (generally acini de pepe). But if you you grew up in an Italian family in the Pittsburgh area, you probably had wedding soup at home -- we always had it at Christmas and Easter. I remember that my neighbors, the Polish, German and Slovak ones, didn't eat wedding soup for holidays. Talk about a sad state of affairs.

At some point in the mid-1980's, wedding soup exploded throughout the area and, like the Primanti's sandwich and the pierogi, became one of the hallmark foods of Pittsburgh. [We can only be grateful that they don't race tureens of wedding soup at PNC Park.] Now you can get wedding soup at pretty much any little diner and bar that serves food. It is everywhere. I'm shocked, actually, that Monday Night Football hasn't used wedding soup as their go-to Pittsburgh food image. (If you're not a sports fan, you don't realize that MNF has a gratuitous shot of a local food wherever they are. E.G., in Philly, it's always a cheesesteak; in San Diego, generally they show a fish taco; in Cincy, there is always a lingering shot of Skyline Chili; and in Pittsburgh, it's always, always a Primanti's sandwich. 'They put french fries right. on. the. sandwich!')

What Went Wrong, Went Wrong Fast: a Eulogy for the 2012 Pittsburgh Pirates

"What went wrong, went wrong fast," John Irving once wrote and with those words, his protagonist in The Hotel New Hampshire revealed the death of his mother and younger brother in a plane crash. As a reader, you know it's going to happen; maybe not a plane crash, but you know that something horrible, something awful, something unspeakable will happen. You know this because Irving is a master of foreshadowing. (Also of pathos, which is probably relevant when discussing the Pirates, too.) Because Irving is just so damned good at it, you know what's coming, but you don't know it, which is to say that you feel something -- your Spidey sense is all tingly and at the same time, the novel is new to you. When it happens, the impact is like a sledgehammer hitting you in the face and yet, a tiny voice in the back of your brain says, "Oh, I knew that was going to happen."

The calamity which is the back end of the 2012 baseball season for the Pittsburgh Pirates season reminds me so much of Irving's crash:  the late season death keel is something we could have predicted -- well, maybe not to the extreme that has played out on the field -- but still we could have seen it coming, or at least parts of it.

Where NFL Replacement Refs meet Gary Bettman and the NHL

The New York Times reports that many casual football fans are turned off by the mind-meltingly slow pace of NFL games due to the dithering, amateurish replacement officials. The NFL's lockout of their regular refs, it seems to me to me, presents not merely a chink in the previously impenetrable armor of the NFL, but a wee bit of a vacuum. If fans are turned off by the length and pace of NFL games, might they be inclined, I dunno, to watch something else?

It is a vacuum (however slight) that could be, and should be, filled by hockey. Hockey can easily sell itself to disenfranchised football fans. After all, both football and hockey are fast and violent, both require precise teamwork and vision, and both are sports where players sometimes do things that we ordinary mortals cannot even conceive of.

And to exploit this opening ... Gary Bettman and the NHL have engaged in a pissing contest with Donald Fehr and the NHLPA. Talk about murdering the goose that lays the golden eggs.

Take That, Roger Goodell

In his tenure as NFL commissioner, Roger Goodell frequently talked out of both sides of his mouth.

"I'm for player safety," he says, while at the same time asserting, "The NFL desperately needs an 18 game regular season."

He has doled out suspensions like the most popular house in the neighborhood doles out Snickers bars on Halloween. At the same time, he awkwardly hugs every draft pick as they walk across the stage on draft day.

Remember that scene in Chinatown? "My sister! My mother! My sister! My mother!" Yeah, you know what I'm talking about.