There’s nothing quite as demoralizing for a writer as reading back through previous published and/or posted works and getting smacked in the face with typos and misspellings. It’s like being caught with food in your teeth, but worse. Print immortalizes your stupidity.

In the last newsletter I sent out to dozens (and dozens) of people, I wrote about living “oversees.” Catching that mistake this morning, weeks after the letter was sent, was like a slug to the gut. Really, Jennifer? REALLY?

I routinely have minor panic attacks in random places, like the shower or while watching a play (check the comments) or driving home from town. Hang on a sec— Did I POUR over those pictures or did I PORE over them? AHHHH!

The other day my mother pointed out that I’ve been mixing up my peeks/peaks. (I have a sneaking suspicion that my mother keeps a running list of all my mistakes, waiting for just the right moment to smack me with them, bless her ever-grammar-loving heart.) I know better. Really, I do! It’s just that I get so focused on the idea of what I’m saying that my brain glosses right over the mistakes no matter how many times I proof the piece. Good editors are worth their price in gold. I don’t have either—an editor or gold. 

Now that my mother alerted me to my “peak” problem, I’m kind of tempted to type the word into my blog search engine and make corrections. But I’m scared, too. What if I’ve been climbing mountain peeks and peaking in closets on a routine basis? Can my tender psyche handle the shame?

Lately, I’ve been tied up in knots over my writing. I’ve been getting up most mornings at five and plunging straight into the work of wrestling swirly, slippery thoughts onto paper. I drink coffee, but the going is still sloggy-slow. (But it’s rewarding, too. Not because I’ve actually produced something readable, mind you—I’ve usually only succeeded in digging myself in deeper—but because by the time the kids wake up I can shut the computer and know I’ve done at least some writing for the day.)

I may be getting a little obsessive, overly fretful about redundancy and tight sentences and being perfectly logical (probably not something I’m even capable of). On the other hand, it’s good for me, this discipline of the three Ps: patience, persistence, and perfection. Fast writing (i.e. frequent blogging) is a discipline, too—a discipline in letting go, putting out, and grinning boldly even when there is food in my teeth. Which is why I am doing a fast post today: to keep me limber while I’m in the throes of obsessing.

Smile onward-ho!

My sister-in-law (and someone else but I can’t remember who) gave me a huge bag of peppers. I’m still not in the mood to put food up—for all I know, there’s a million bags of peppers in the bottom of my freezer—and there were too many to eat up fresh, so I decided to make a new-to-me recipe: stuffed peppers.

Stuffed peppers have always seemed like:

a) an elitist, stuffy (ha!) dish, and
b) a taboo,

because:

a) hello, who spends time hollowing out peppers and making them stand on end? and
b) soft, cooked peppers and kids don’t mix.

But I did a little research and figured that at least I’d like them. And because I’m not adverse to letting my taste preferences override those of my family, I took the stuff-the-pepper plunge.

The verdict?

a) No, stuffed peppers are not pompous. Especially when you cheat by cutting them in half and laying them out flat on their backs. A belly-up pepper is decidedly not as intimidating as a standing one.

b) Yes, the kids will probably turn up their noses, but they are so incredibly delicious that who gives a fig. I happily ate all the leftovers and then felt sad when they were gone.

Stuffed Peppers
With inspiration from: Epicurious (Bon Appetit, another Bon Appetit, and Gourmet) and Finding Harmony. 

This is a formula, not a recipe—I didn’t measure a thing. Which proves, once and for all, that stuffed peppers are nothing to fear. 

I used sweet peppers and banana peppers. I loved the bite and texture (thinner and less mushy) of the banana ones, but both were excellent.

8-10 gnarly peppers, halved and cored
2-3 peppers, diced
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 generous pound bulk sausage
2 onions, chopped
5 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon smoked paprika
1 tablespoon dried parsley (fresh would be best!)
1 teaspoon black pepper
1/8 teaspoon chipotle pepper (or chile cobán)
salt
2-3 cups cooked brown rice
2½ cups tomato sauce, divided
1 egg, beaten
1 cup shredded mozzarella cheese

Arrange the pepper halves in two 9×13 glass pans and set aside.

Put the chopped peppers, sausage onions, and garlic, along with the olive oil, in a large skillet and cook over medium-high heat for about 15 minutes until the meat is cooked through and the vegetables are tender. Add the paprika, parsley, black pepper, chipotle pepper, and salt, and cook another minute. Stir in the brown rice, ½ cup of tomato sauce, and the egg and stir well. Remove from heat.

Spoon the rice and sausage mixture into the pepper halves, pressing it firmly into the cavities—you want as much filling as possible per pepper. Spread/sprinkle the remaining two cups of sauce over the peppers.

Bake the peppers uncovered at 350 degrees for 30-45 minutes or until the peppers get slightly brown around the edges and look weary. Remove from oven, sprinkle with the cheese, and return to the oven for another 5-10 minutes to melt the cheese.

Leftovers make superb lunches.