Pork Diane

Doom's garden has suffered the whimsy of spring's weather. The first seeds withered under a flash frost when this damnable almanac said such worries were behind Doom. Doom, of course, had the almanac's author punished even as it entailed digging up his decades-old corpse and giving it sound kicks to the dessicated tuchus. Not even the sweet embrace of death can save you from Doom's fury. Implant this within your minds. Know it, live it, love it.

Undaunted, Doom planted once more, and Doom's potatoes and squash spring forth from their dark, loamy beds to bask in Doom's glorious presence. Doom anticipates many a fine meal built on a scaffolding of root vegetables and gourds. Until then, Doom procures his necessary vittles from the Latveria Winn-Dixie accompanied by his Doombots to push the cart and test the food samples for poison. Doom is ever vigilant for treachery, even on Aisle Five. Doom's frequent-shopper account absolves Doom of all responsibilities of payment, of course. Doom merely shakes his iron fist at the self-scanner, and all charges are deferred. Such is the power of Doom.

Pork Diane
4 porkchops (boneless or bone-in)
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1 tablespoon white wine sauce
1 tablespoon water
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon lemon zest
1 tablespoon cracked black pepper
1 tablespoon chopped chives
4 tablespoons butter
6 carrots, peeled and chopped

Doom commands you to rub zest and pepper on porkchops as 2 tablespoons of butter melts in a pan set to medium heat.

Doom commands you to cook porkchops for ten minutes, turning once. It is strongly suggest you cover the pan lest you redecorate your kitchen.

Doom commands you to cook carrots in a separate pan on medium heat with remaining butter. You shall stir often to coat carrots with butter. Doom allows you to continue this until carrots are soften to your preference. Doom is kind.

Doom commands you to combine Worcestershire, wine, water and mustard in a bowl. You shall remove porkchops from pan and pour mixture into pan to loosen pork crisps. You shall not reduce heat. Stir constantly until sauce bubbles and pour upon the porkchops.

Doom commands you to place carrots as a side. Doom commands you to relish.

Mozzarella Pasta Salad

Nation, heed Doom. Heed Doom as you may never have (although if you have never, Doom will crush you for your insolence).

Doom is strong enough to admit failure. Doom can, when the occasion demands, confess to erring in Doom's way. Doom is but a man after all -- a superlative man above all others, but a man nonetheless. Doom can fail. And Doom can own it. Especially if, say, Doom where to fall short when recreating a recipe from the Secret Gypsy Momma Cookbook.

Of course, that has never happened. No, Doom remains perfect in thought and deed, and the fault in last night's catastrophic culinary calamity lies at the feet of those who have transcribed the cookbook. This must be so. Those responsible will be reduced to ash and bone for sullying the legacy of the Doom Momma and the sacred kitchen space of King Lord Emperor Doom, Esquire.

Doom is also suspicious of sabotage at the hands of The Accursed Richards. Richards, attend Doom: DOOM AIN'T HAVIN' IT.

Mozzarella Pasta Salad
The recipe calls for the following items and quantities, but Doom commands you to read on before attempting to replicate this. Doom has seen the tortured lands that lie beyond this path. Learn from Doom.

8 oz dry rotini or penne
6 oz fresh Mozzarella, diced
2 cups diced tomato
1 tablespoon olive oil or salad dressing
4 cups baby spinach leaves
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper

The recipe commands you to cook the pasta as the box directs you.

The recipe commands you to mix all the other ingredients in a bowl.

The recipe commands you to drain the pasta and mix with the other ingredients and serve immediately. AND HERE DOOM CRIES "NAY!"

Doom commands you to refrigerate the dish for at least a half hour before serving. Doom speaks from experience. The warm dish is a true horror suitable only for mailing to The Accursed Richards in a wet cardboard box.

Doom also commands you to reduce the Mozzarella to the smallest practical increments. Mouthful Mozzarella morsels weigh heavy in the tum-tum, as Doom has learned. Doom suggests replacing with crumbled Feta, if one desires. Doom confess Doom stopped eating and baked a frozen pizza. Doom is not ashamed. Doom gotta eat.

Let us speak no more of Doom's night of suffering. Doom will not be humbled. Doom has persevered, and Doom remains strong. As ever. As always.