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On the back of most credit cards, all or part of your account number is displayed in italic font across the signature strip, followed by 3 extra digits (as shown below). For American Express, a 4 digit number is printed on the front of the card. This is your Card Verification Value, or CVV.
CVV is an anti-fraud measure being introduced by credit card companies worldwide. It is required that you enter the CVV printed on your card each time a payment is made and you are not present to sign a receipt, as for on-line transactions.
You may not recognize this dish. Look closely -- canned tuna, pasta, crispy bits on top -- it's starting to come into focus now, isn't it? No matter the amount of kitchen wisdom gathered throughout the years, I remain steadfast in my love for tuna casserole. I chucked the canned soup ages ago, replacing it with homemade Mornay sauce instead (so much better). Then one day, in need of a quick food fix, and yearning for my old standby, I dreamt up this iteration: Spaghetti, slicked in a simple tuna sauce, sprinkled with crispy spicy breadcrumbs. The tuna casserole of the 50's was revered because a delicious meal could be put together in 30 minutes. This new version promises all the same comforts in less than 20.
Sure, you could have a pastrami sandwich without the creamy pink sauce referred to as Russian dressing, but why would you want to? The classic sandwich, generously topped with a pile of brined and hardwood-smoked meat is made infinitely better with its addition. And while it may be tempting to buy it by the bottle, it takes less time (and tastes way better) to simply make it at home.
The power of a recipe to connect you to the past is potent. Unlike a single keepsake, its power lies in its equality: Anyone and everyone who cooks an heirloom recipe can savor the joy of a beloved place, a missed loved one, through a single bite. This recipe for bizcochitos comes from my great grandmother, who made them each year during Christmastime. All the kids, my mom included, would hover around the kitchen, eager to steal the first bite as they came out of the oven.
Years ago, I would've shared this recipe with you thinking it was from our family vault. It is, in a way. We've made it for decades, through generations, starting with my Nana. Then, a year or so ago, I ran across the identical recipe in an old copy of the Austin Junior Forum's Lone Star Legacy: A Texas Cookbook. And again, I found a variation in the pages of another cookbook, From Amish to Mennonite Kitchens. Clearly, we weren't the only family breaking Dilly Bread every Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter. And, I discovered, we have a Mrs. Leona Schnuelle from Crab Orchard, Nebraska to thank for it. In 1960, she took the blue ribbon prize for her Dilly Bread recipe in the Pillsbury Bake-Off. Since then, it's been baked in American kitchens across the entire country. There is a reason for that. It's good. Really good.
I have a serious culinary soft spot for onion dip. I'd venture to guess many of you do too. If you appreciate those flavors, it's a hard task to step away from the bowl. I grew up eating a lot of onion dip and potato chips (with ridges, of course) at every sleepover, birthday party, camping trip, and late-night movie marathon. But I'm happy to leave that plastic tub in the past in exchange for a new, much improved version of my old-school favorite.
©2010, Foodshed Co.