racheld
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Posts posted by racheld
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It was more of a bargain/coup than I'd thought!!! Thanks for the info.
I thought my only piece of that was this HUGE faceted punchbowl.
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KIM---It's always so good to hear from you---you'll be hearing from ME soon, I promise.
And HEIDI---I wouldn't have the heart to taste the little fishfellow---he just seemed so amazed to be out of that long hibernation in the fragrant dark.
MAGGIE---Never fear---if you'd been here, you'd have been First-Time Guest---they always go first in line and get first dip of the spoon. We had one this time, but she HAD been to coffee several times, so you'd have taken precedence, I think. You'd have certainly had the "farthest traveled" award (Our Memphis friends don't count; they've lived up here longer than we have).
And, since you'd naturally have spent the night, next-day lunch would have been quite fun. (And you can bet it was leftovers).
PAM---the glasses are not of such exalted pedigree---they're huge heavy clunky things, a bit wobbly in places, an occasional bubble suspended in the glass like the windowpanes at Monticello. I picked them up at a thrift store in Ohio; there were eighteen in the two boxes, with what I thought was 30.00 for the two---it turned out to be 3.00, and they've been in constant use since. And since there are so many, we used them for pre-drinks and on the table as well.
The pitchers hold three kinds of iced tea: Sweet, not, and S&L, a must for every gathering, to accommodate all the tastes. Cranberry/apple juice in the clear thin pitcher, with a float of frozen cranberries, as well as ice. I got addicted to the stuff last summer when I had to drink so much of it. Frozen vodka for adding, as needed.
And the wine is Chris' favorite---a soft red from Oliver Winery, just down the highway toward Bloomington. It's really a beautiful place, with lovely grounds and immense stone monoliths springing from that "world limestone capital" ground.
Well worth a stop if you're ever traveling Highway 37.
Bloody Marys in the heavy wide one, made with Major Peters mix---we've bought the bottled stuff before, and I like it. But Chris came home with one of those handle-on-the-side plastic jugs like some salsa comes in, and didn't check the HEAT meter on the side---ORANGE. It would singe the whiskers off a cat.
Crunching the crispy flaunts of celery in the glasses seemed to alleviate a little of the OW factor, as did a bit of the soothing dips and spreads---you KNOW a Southern "nibbles table" is gonna be heavy on the sour cream.
Biggest bowl: Caro's crab/cream cheese/green onion spread, served with toasty, buttery "bagel crisps" and some new Townhouse crackers---almost little trenchers themselves, with a depression for laying in the spread.
Bottom two: Curry mayonnaise and Dill/chive dip, both of them LF versions, for serving with:
The top left one in the little green bowl was on the tray by mistake---it was a lox/creamcheese/dill spread and should have gone on the buffet with the quartered bagels:
This little bowl and spreader I found in two separate Goodwill stores, months apart, and later found the matching vinyl tablecloth, which has the flowerpots all around it, and the inscription, "It's Spring and time to plant the seeds."
I usually whip it onto the January table before the tinsel's off the tree.
More later, from the stove.
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I made the Red Beans 'N' Rice on Saturday, starting with chopping and frying up a great quantity of onion and peppers. Then in went Old Bay, cumin, cumin seeds, some L&P, some trickly thick dark soy sauce, a lot of chopped garlic, and some already-cooked pintos and black beans, along with great handfuls of chopped cilantro.
It was kinda a merger between RB&R and Barracho beans, which we learned to LOVE at Chacho's in San Antonio (family legends have formed around the gallon I brought home in takeout cups, frozen the night before, and foil-wrapped. They were standing inside and all in the pockets outside my carryon. Though it was in the height of Orange alert, the security guard took a look, I told him what it was and that I'd just come home from Europe and all the kids wanted was Barracho beans, and he passed me right through).
They simmered for a while, then went off the heat to soak up all those lovely flavors all night. We served them over Calrose in bowls or on your plate, take your pick. We had so many sausages on the platter, none seemed necessary in the beans, though it's customary to put in Andouille or Kielbasa. Sour cream for dolloping on, and a bowl of cilantro leaves for garnish.
There were eleven of us, and I think perhaps a cup was left in the bottom of the pot. And of course, with the gets-better-every-day, it was lovely on Monday for lunch.
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Alas, it is not, and we never did---we'd drive by on a weekday, mentally making a note to go there on the weekend (it was open only Friday, Sat., Sun., if I remember correctly). It was extolled by many of our friends, whose great occasions were celebrated there---I think it's been gone for probably ten years now, and I'm sorry to have missed it. It was the horrific price of $30, I think, and then extra for a lobster. Can you imagine today's prices?
This one was REALLY nice and really good. I don't know if it's New-Kid-Popular, but the crowd on Saturday was too much to brave, especially standing in the doors.
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And then Saturday morning, when all was serene and pretty in the house, and nary a thing to do but get those good cooking smells going, we sat down to breakfast. Chris wanted lox and a bagel, so he had an everything bagel (I saw and tasted poppyseeds, sunflower seeds, some bulgur-ish chewy bits in the dough, and a hit of toasted onion).
He first put on the cream cheese, then laid on the lox, big floppy pink ribbons of it, thin and moist and gleaming. He topped that with paper-thin slices of sweet onion, then some thin, seeded tomato slices. On top went two slices of Muenster, laid on to cover, then the whole thing went into a little baking pan for enough time under the broiler to soften the cheese into droopy curtains to hold the whole thing together as he took a bite.
I lit THE CANDLE which has been called out for about nine birthdays now, his and other peoples'---it lives in the wide drawer under the old china cabinet, with the cookie cutters and chopsticks and the pumpkin carver stuff and one of those spin-in-your-fingers, make-a-curly-cucumber things that everyone gives anybody else who cooks.
I sang. He blew. The candle got its customary bottom-wash and dry, and went back into its little nest to wait for Sunday's birthday cake. I hope it's sanitary---I did my best. Just so the flavor of onion and fish do not permeate its little nest in the cake.
And I had peach preserves on my bagel, toasted onion and all.
I spent Saturday afternoon chopping and slicing and cooking a few things, making the two quiche batters, grating cheese, steaming the broccoli and the carrots. It was nice just to spend the time with good old Hercule Poirot, moving silently through the soft kitchen chores, spraying a pan, taking the glistening glasses out of their sparkle-wash, making the dips and spreads.
I love the preparation of a thing---lots of the time is spent in meditation or composing silly poems, or working out some little problem or puzzle in my head. I love pulling out the big old silverware chest, filled with bits and pieces from families not my own, gathered over the years just for the PRETTY of it, the ODD of it.
Getting out the dinner plates, the starter plates, the dessert service; making sure the Mary ingredients, the cranberry juice, the apple juice were chilling (most of them outside in the shade of the patio).
I set one of the tables, leaving the other for holding all the needfuls for the day to come---bowls and platters and the serving pieces, the cups for coffee and the glasses for wine.
The little bowls hold softened butter and peach preserves, and in the egg cup are pear preserves, made from sand pears from our trees down South.
The places look kind of side-saddle to the chairs, which was remedied by turning the table just a bit on its axis. Chris did it for a joke once long ago when a young soldier had filled his plate with collards, ham, peas, potatoes, cornbread and salad. As Chris said the blessing, he silently rotated the table to place the loaded plate in front of his own place. The look on the young man's face was priceless as he looked down at his empty plate. Then a tiny turn gave his back to him.
This round one is the "breakfast table" to distinguish it from the dining table ten feet away. It's nice when we have a crowd, to be able to converse and all be in the same room. I keep this one draped with a pretty cloth and the chairs clad in sweepy skirts all year round. It BRIGHTS me.
And as I sectioned a huge navel orange, so sweet and juice-heavy this time of year, I found this funny little fellow:
He seems as surprised as I to discover him nestled inside the orange. I kinda wanted to let him swim in the cranberry pitcher, but his little fins just could not keep him upright beneath all that cranberry covering.
And now, I must go and attend to our dinner---Chris is on his way home.
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Two weeks ago, we had our best friends over for dinner, because she already had a class/retreat scheduled for the Sunday of the brunch.
There were just the four of us at table, just about twilight on a snowy day:
We had homemade guacamole with little chips of sweet onion and finely minced Roma tomatoes, as well as some black bean salsa---both with Scoops and crudite for dippers.
We started with a salad of two colors of butter lettuce, with slices of Anjou, some pignoli and toasted pecans, with a lime vinaigrette. (of which I went looking for a picture---will load that one later).
The peppers were stuffed with chopped peppers and sweet onion, halved grape tomatoes, and several kinds of olives, smashed and pitted, all tossed with olive oil, some champagne vinegar, and sea salt.
In the pan:
(I DO apologize for the size---I usually do a 640, but somehow got these 340)
And atop the golden pilaf of basmati, sultanas, saffron, turmeric, cumin, cumin seeds, cooked in vegetable stock:
This got set at someone's place for the picture---note the small plate at top. It was necessary for the sides, because the steaks were enormous, almost covering the dinnerplates:
Chris did them on the grill, and of course, the two guys did the fire stuff for about twenty minutes, out in the freezing cold with Blue Moons and slices of orange in frozen mugs, to keep them warm.
We had a pan of roasted vegetables---baby red potatoes, sweet potato chunks (some of the best sweet potato I've ever eaten---first time roasting like this), parsnips, celery, and about thirty peeled toes of garlic, which was sweet and silky.
Dessert was to be baked stone fruits, but I left the lid on a bit long, and they kinda stewed in the oven---nectarines, pale plums, a Granny Smith, and dried cranberries, with Turbinado and a hit of Buttershot. A little leaf-shaped butter cookie and some unsweetened whipped cream.
They're lovely friends, and of course, since she was away, he returned for brunch with us on Sunday, which will appear in a bit.
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I sort of waffled (food reference already!) on starting this thread, because of the lovely blog in progress, and the promise of that FABulous party to come. But this one’s totally different, just a little home thing, with downhome food and a few friends in for company to celebrate Chris' birthday.
We have a Birthday Brunch for him every year, and I usually just post the menu in the “Breakfast” thread, but we had such a good time, and celebrated for about four days in all, going here and there to dinner, and having a special dinner-for-two at home, plus a silly breakfast and then the brunch next day.
On Wednesday night, we went to a new restaurant that DS and DDIL had tried---The Journey. They'd gone the week before, and really liked it, so since it was Caro's night off on Wednesday, all five of us and the wee Granddaughter went there for dinner.
It's one of those huge-plate-printed-with-a-sailboat/seafood/sushi/Asian food buffets with everything you can think of---all sorts of calamari, frog legs, salmon and other fish prepared in several ways; huge gratins of crabmeat and scallops and trays of razor clams and immense crab legs and shells of Coquilles St. Jacques, as well as oysters, raw and Rockefeller.
Chris had a big plate of sushi of all kinds, then a sampling from all the hot and cold seafood selection, with two trips up to the two chocolate fountains.
I zeroed in on the roasted asparagus with Balsamic, and thoroughly enjoyed my chicken/fruit salad, some lovely garlicky sauteed green beans, and a couple of satay skewers. Everybody seemed to find just what they wanted, and the food was marvelous.
There was a big glass-front freezer of dishes of already-scooped ice cream, so I got a vanilla for spooning on some of the REALLY good blackberry cobbler. Everybody chose amongst the cheesecakes and pies and the piles of fruit that looked like a glimpse into Carmen Miranda's closet. Chris came back from his first trip to the chocolate fountains with a couple of hunks of banana, a strawberry, and a marshmallow, all taking on the lessening-shine of cooling, congealing chocolate.
"You have to stick it WAY through the flow, or that thing will spin your stuff right off your stick!" he said. "You oughta SEEE all the chunks of banana in the bottom."
He later decided to try the chocolate on ice cream, so he got a cup from the freezer. Then: the dilemma. How to get that torrent channeled into his dish, without covering himself and the floor. (I've SEEN what two little boys can do with unfettered access to one of those things---think brown to the elbows of their little white wedding shirts). So Chris selected a long wafer-type cookie from the tray, dipped and dripped it onto his ice cream several times, and came to the table with a nicely-fudged dip in his bowl, and what looked like a DQ Dilly Bar in the other hand---the chocolate on the cookie tip must have been an inch thick from the repeated dipping. (more on this topic later).
We had a wonderful time---they frowned at the camera and head-shook "No," so we put it away
That was on Wednesday night---we'd gone in the Saturday night before, just us two. They take reservations only for parties of eight and up, and the foyer was JAMMED, with an hour's wait and that door screaming open with wild below-zero winds every few seconds, so we wended our way to our favorite Chinese restaurant and had a quiet dinner in our favorite booth.Then Friday night, Chris called and said he was craving lobster, so he had one steamed-while-you-wait and brought it home:
I had the melted butter with lemon all ready, with the tiny almost-white-skinned potatoes steamed and sprinkled with sea salt, a dish of guacamole for dipping thin spears of Kirby cucumber, and some lovely seeded rye rolls. I had tuna salad with all the same sides (except the butter, of course--don't think TS is very dippable).
There's also the cutest little sterling-silver pick in there, right under the handle of the orange crackers. It's from a nutpick set, and I got it for 29c at Goodwill; it's great for those hard-to-get spots in claws.
And Moire non.
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Would this be trying OUT a new recipe, or trying an out-there one you've cooked before ON your guests?
Most of our friends are game for anything we cook, but then, I seldom cook from the books that say, "Fyrst, skinne twelve spyders."
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Snakey Boy is a pit viper. He wears a toque and an apron, and only bites when he is provoked and no other methods of resolution work. Snakey-Boy works at a snack bar. I think he owns the place. He feeds the homeless for free, he discounts his prices for poor people, and only uses the finest ingredients for his offerings. After every episode of Snakey Boy, he gives the big thumbs-up to the readers.
All Hail Snakey-Boy! He often hung out with Cool Flame, a sunglass-wearing bit of fire who regularly drank gasoline and burped his opponents with a firey blast.
I'm very sure I'll be blamed for this one day.
This is the coolest thing in a long time!!! We'd all like a Snakey Boy working for/with us in our imaginary/dream restaurants---he could cook, give us a great reputation for the quality of our food and our charitable endeavours, and just be a BIG draw to the COOL crowd.
Plus, someone who can eject rude, loud, drunken customers with a hypnotic look or a hiss would be greatly in demand in ANY business.
Is there any chance of a look at this paragon of charitable niceness, cuisinary talent and charm? And Cool Flame as well---he's a fantastic pal to have.
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There's the overflowing Campbell's Tomato Soup in a heavy white ceramic diner mug in the bleak cold reality of Rizzo's flea-ridden digs. But in his dreams he's dressed in white flannels, called by the admiring hordes to give the finishing touch to an elegant dish in the sunshine of a beachful of ladies who adore him, before he strolls off, straight and whole, to his wonderful soft-focus life.
I've always found it touching that in midst of all that gritty harsh grind that he lived, he dreamt of cooking.
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Freezing the layers should work beautifully, to get a head start on things. They can even be frosted frozen, providing they're leveled before and if your frosting will allow---some will develop a little dew-bead when they're chilled.
Major covets on the pot-rack---is it over a stone floor or other surface so that you rinse, hang, and let drip/air dry?
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If you're serious about asking, Riker is Jean Luc's second-in-command.
Of course, there's always Data, but unless your pup has yellow eyes, that won't fly.
And Geordi, of course, of the COOL eye-gear.
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I'm one of the cursed ones---no palate for ANYTHING alcoholic; just can't find a taste that's pleasant to me.
But I always love your delicious words, Toby.
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Commander Riker---You have the Con!
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Oh, Fabby, what a treat!!! It's 7:10, I just put the last dish in the last dishwasher load from Chris' birthday brunch and sat down to THIS!!!
Thank you, thank you PTB. And you, too, FABBY, of course.
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I craved Scotland all my life, and traveled there in 2003. I ate haggis (It's the LAW), but might have thought better of it had I read the words "gushing entrails" and "warm-reekin'" in time.
The one I tasted was served WAY after a lovely roast beef/salmon dinner. More entertainment, then the Royal Dish was piped in, and we were all served a tiny saucer, with a three-layer what-would-have-been-rainbow, had not one of them been BROWN, little circle about the size of a sugar-cookie.
The aroma alone served to quell any remaining appetites at table (actually, I did recognize the scent, having been guest at several chitlin suppers ---didn't partake THEN either). I carved off a bit the size of a BB, cutting right down through white tatties, goldy-orange neeps and the brown meaty crust, and ate it. I'd also had a nice bowl of porridge that morning, as well, and enjoyed it thoroughly.
I did love all the pomp and fluster, and it was a lovely evening, but I daresay the poet need not seek work writing menus.
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Only one friend, a very dear one, has any allergies---hers are gluten and lactose, PLUS she's a two-decade Vegetarian. The past few times they've come here for dinner or brunch (brunch is HARD) I've read labels, left out anything remotely NOT straight from the produce aisle or her OK list, and had no trouble accommodating her needs.
Two weeks ago, we got together for our Christmas visit---late because of our odd, mis-matched schedules. Chris always likes to serve a really nice meat dish, usually one he grilled or pitted, because cooking meat has always been an unpleasant experience for her, and her hubby is a carnivore.
So Chris bought two gorgeous ribeyes, quite large ones---about a pound and a half, and I put them in to marinate in his secret marinade about an hour before the guests arrived. Chris had called the husband that morning to say, "Eat light today---I'm cooking huge steaks for dinner."
They came in, I brought out the nibbles---homemade black bean salsa and fresh guacamole, with vegetable dippers and a few Scoops for the die-hards. She ate both WITH the Scoops---guess she had read their label before and it was OK.
THEN, Chris called the husband into the kitchen to show him the steaks, which were in a big pyrex dish. He in turn called his wife, saying "Come here and LOOK at these steaks!" She took a look, asked what was in the marinade, and said, "Oh, I can't eat THAT---soy sauce is processed with wheat products."
She then went on to say that she'd heard about the steaks and was looking forward to some of it, hot off the grill, because having to leave out all the gluten and dairy products, her body must really be craving protein, because she'd just had a real taste for meat lately.
I was just floored. Never in a million years would I have thought NOT to marinate them, as she had never eaten so much as FISH in my presence. And I felt SO bad, because it would have been so easy to have cut off a portion to leave plain.
And they were so huge, he had to take half of his steak home for lunch the next day. I just wish I'd known, but it wouldn't have ever occurred to me not to go ahead with the marinade. But I did feel bad that we'd tainted the whole dish, of which part was going to be leftovers anyway.
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Please: TrekkER. Not that I am personally invested, but some of my best friends & c.
Hmmm: Fooder?
Don't yell or throw fruit, but I cooked dinner for Cap'n Kirk once. And by derivation, would a Groupie then be a Grouper? Yum.
And we will still give all consideration, grandfathering and special dispensation to Little Miss---we love her.
Besides, in a word association test, 99 out of a hundred would follow "gastro" with "intestinal."
groceratrix
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I've never, ever noticed either too-eggy custard (as is the case in creme anglaise and other cooked custardy things, nor sulphurous taste or aroma---must be all that Eagle Brand. I think you could bury durian in enough of that stuff
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The old, tried-and-true Southern recipe is a three-and-three combo: three yolks, then use the whites for the meringue. The only time I ever use the one-yolk method is what I will make this weekend, for a cheesecake topping.
The one-yolk type doesn't set up well enough to cut, I would imagine, without all that chemical reaction with the extra yolks to solidify it---it just spoons out in nice fluffy spoonfuls, to top a cheesecake, pouf alongside a slice of buttery poundcake, or in a nice cut-glass compote beside a tray of fruit.
I just can't imagine that just enough oven-time to brown meringue would do any actual baking of the filling itself, and one yolk just wouldn't do the trick for a pie.
And with the three-yolk, it's done its own thing, and you can use your torch for the meringue, no oven involved.
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I second the Cajun suggestion---a shrimp boil is a wonderful, participatory dinner for a crowd. And cleanup is a matter of rolling up the tablecloth (black garbage bags or a sheet of visquine covered in layers of newspaper) and throwing everything into the trash.
And it's FUN. You cover the tables, get the gas burners going outside or a BIG stove within, fill up a few big pots with water and Cajun seasonings, and start adding layers: Whole baby potatoes, skins on, first, for a few minutes, then some bags of baby carrots and some small peeled onions. Throw in a couple of dozen eggs to boil if you like.
Lots of those little short ears of corn go in next, after the liquid has reached another good boil.
A bit more cooking time, then add hunks of Kielbasa or Andouille other hearty sausage, then a quick drop of chicken tenders for a short simmer, and last of all the shrimp, just for that quick minute til they're pink.
On the table, have dishes of soft butter, hearty loaves of bread to slice or tear, and bowls of coleslaw. All up and down the table, set smaller dishes of cocktail sauce, tartar sauce, and lemon wedges. Salt and iced tea and beer.
Drain the hot pots and distribute all the food onto big platters ranged up and down the tables, so that some of everything is on every platter, for easy reaching.
And the best dessert with this is a Sundae bar with all sorts of toppings and sprinkles.
Lots of rolls of paper towels for napkins, and all the debris goes right onto the newspaper, to be rolled and tossed.
Oh, My. I can't wait for Spring.
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My six-cup McCormick Aladdin-style pot has a neat white ceramic "basket" with holes which drops down neatly to nestle beneath the lid, looking like a little clerical collar when the lid's on.
I've never thought of leaving it IN---I just remove it to a saucer as soon as steeping time is done. But the tea level would, indeed, fall low enough after a cup or two is poured. Neat.
This is a Forties model, and the ones with the inserts still intact are hard to find.
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Y'all gotta go read Ivy's piece today in Daily Gullet.
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Yes. Ten million served, and not a mini-burger amongst 'em. Now, a one-biter of pulled pork on a snuffcan bun, that's another story.
Lots of memory kindling here---from garden clubs, gallery openings, 100th birthdays to Ducks Unlimited cocktail parties (a notably creditable job of using duck-as-food, both mallard and domestic).
Also blessedly brief TS flashbacks to a Mississippi Summer afternoon when endless yellow Tupperwares of marinated chicken livers and water chestnuts lurked in wait for us to take those chilly slithers between our fingers and impale them for broiling. Unforgettable.
Thanks, Ivy.
A Birthday Brunch
in Food Traditions & Culture
Posted · Edited by racheld (log)
The rest of Saturday was spent in various prep-and-chill tasks---making sure everything was out of the freezer, etc. Two of the dishes were made before Christmas, as our GA contingent was coming up for several days, and I always like make-aheads that can be baked or heated while I do the more important stuff, usually involving Webkins or Little Ponies (I'm becoming quite the accomplished beautician, especially where neon colors are concerned) or books, and always in a posture on the floor that will necessitate a few creaks and limps as I rise to do the mundane stuff, like dinner.
I had made a hashbrown casserole to whip out and bake for breakfast one morning, doing a best-I-could version of Cracker Barrel's good potato dish. I have the same thing EVERY time we go there---including a little side dish of the cheese-laden potatoes. And it did not include cheese soup or mushroom soup, like the copycat ones on the 'Net.
It's just that nobody told me that the GA bunch were on Atkins, so that involved lots of bacon and eggs, but no carbs for breakfast. And two are WW, so the potatoes stayed a-waiting another occasion.
It was just a lot of finely-minced sweet onion, about 2/1 ratio of potatoes to grated rich orange cheddar, all pressed into a buttered baking dish and baked til golden, with lots of little wisps of crispy-crackle---my favorite part.
Also residing in the freezer was a baking dish of mac & cheese, made for the one big dinner party every Christmas when we're all together to gather round the tables in funny old hats, and have crackers with prizes and noisemakers and all manner of hilarity. We did all that, but skipped the mac and cheese, as it was way too much just to bake for the few who would have some. We had a nice protein/vegetable-slanted meal instead. Hilarity as usual.
And so we baked the orphaned dish for brunch, and gave out Glad-boxes to guests.
There was broccoli/ham quiche:
I made up the custard on Saturday, and bagged up the steamed, shocked, well-dried broccoli, chopped ham, and grated cheese (this is definitely a cheesy affair). Separate bag with broccoli and FF cheese for the other pan.
On Sunday morning, I sliced up a few grape tomatoes, put the fillings in a Pam-sprayed dish, poured in the custard, dabbed a few little red slices in places to make it pretty, and into the oven.
Along with this one:
Same recipe, same mixing, except with Egg-Beaters , FF evaporated milk, and FF cheese. It tasted mostly the same, but didn't have the puffing quality of the other.
When we have guests at both tables, the kitchen counter is pressed into service as a buffet, especially when we're having hearty, straight-off-the-stove breakfast-type food. Several dishes remained on the still-warm stove grates for serving--a sort of homey approach, I guess, but guests just line up and dig right in. Oh, well; I've seen Miss Martha do it with soup pots all over the stove.
The two bubble-jars in the back of the picture hold tea bags (three kinds, for iced tea) and bags of pasta---the lovely colors are those two-serving packages of soba noodles---the paper itself has a smooth touch, like vellum, and the little parcels almost look gift-wrapped behind the glass.