"man, you really like butter"

When it comes to cooking, my biggest problem used to be that I simply refused to cook. When I gave up eating out for Lent, unexpected post-work plans were often my biggest challenge. Now that I cook on a more regular basis, portion control is the issue du jour.

I'm not a total idiot, I realize that most recipes are designed to serve two to four people. And somewhere in the back of my rapidly atrophying brain, there's a part of me that can do basic divison. But, I'm my mother's daughter, and as such, inherited her irrational but omnipresent fear that there won't be enough food to go around the table. Even if, in my case, the table is only set for one. 

So most nights, but especially on nights when I feed more bodies than just myself, I have an abundance of leftovers. Luckily, this makes lunch the next day a no-brainer, and, it means that my coworkers are kind of bribed in to liking me because I feed them. 

For this week's Monday dinner with Sophie, I tried two new recipes. One was for mac and cheese made with quinoa in place of "mac." I was skeptical, especially because the recipe calls for an egg (I know!). But, with a little buttery, bread crummy crust on top and gooey cheese underneath, you basically forget you're eating an egg mixed in with a superfood. It's super filling, and even with soy milk and skim cheese, it's tasty. The recipe, by the way, is not at all lying, not even close, when it says it makes 8 servings. Two of us ate it for dinner, and three of us ate it for lunch the next day. I still have more leftover than I can use.

Anyways, the other recipe I tried was for "moist chicken every time." I know, I know. The name is, well, cliche, and, far from humble. But, I was mostly curious to see if I could abide by the recipe's demand that you cook the chicken for one minute on medium, flip it over, turn the heat to low, and leave a lid on for twenty whole non-stop don't you dare lift that lid minutes. Ten of those minutes, the heat is on low, and the other ten, it's off. Look, I don't know what kind of magic happens in those twenty minutes, but it's some perfectly cooked chicken you're going to pull out of that skillet. And, because you dredge it in some flour and spices beforehand, it's not flavorless like many, many a skillet cooked piece of chicken ends up being. Awfully titled recipe aside, consider me a convert.

While I like to think of this as a healthy dinner, the truth is, there was a decent quantity of butter involved. When we were all eating the leftovers Tuesday, my one coworker asked me how the chicken was so good. I described the aforementioned cooking process, mentioning that it starts with a healthy pat of butter in the skillet, and before I could keep going, he looks at me in a mix of admiration and disgust, and goes "man, you really like butter." 

I'll have you know he ate every last piece of chicken.    

friendsgiving, finally

Has it really only been 2 1/2 weeks since Friendsgiving? Surely not. Surely everything that's happened in my life in the past 2 1/2 weeks actually took place over a longer period of time, right?

I suppose "contemplate the time warp that has become my life" is not the point. No, the point is, I'm finally getting around to describing the gloriousness that was Friendsgiving. In case all you care about are pictures, let's start there, ok?

(Oh yeah, one thing before we get going. We decided to name the turkey Walter, so hopefully that clears up any confusion with the subsequent captions/narration)

Getting ready to make four(!) batches of rosemary olive oil bread

wearing plastic gloves and drinking some (fortifying) wine before brining Walter

coating Walter in herb butter prior to roasting

all 20 pounds of Walter, ready to roast

LOOK AT HOW GORGEOUS THIS TURKEY LOOKS!!

weary hostesses, still in cooking attire despite the 25 or so guests in the living room

fairly self explanatory, but: gravy, cranberry sauce, and bread!

from left: turkey and smoked gouda mac n cheese, apple sausage stuffing, sweet potato casserole, and bacon green beans

we finally made it out of our cooking clothes and in to our cocktail dresses

 

And now, if you are at all interested, the abbreviated narrative...

Our Friendsgiving was born from one of the many whims I've had lately in an attempt to stay busy and get in the holiday spirit. It was an idea I'd heard about from various friends over the past few years, and sounded fun, so my coworker/good friend Neha and I (pictured above) decided to give it a shot.  After all, we're always looking for an excuse to throw on a cocktail dress.  

The week of the party, despite my major aversion to the place, we went to Costco with a coworker and loaded up on obscene quantities of things like cranberries, green beans, carrots, cheese and turkey. Later in the week, we hit Harris Teeter for things we didn't need in bulk.

Neha and I devoted Friday night to baking bread and doing (not enough) prep work, and then cooked all day Saturday. Friday night, I burned the sweet potato biscuits I've made flawlessly half a dozen times now, so that was frustrating, but constituted our only major disaster, so I'll take it. 

Saturday we got a leisurely start to the day, taking our time buttering up Walter, and picking up a few last minute things. Around lunch, we suddenly realized "oh CRAP, people are coming over starting at 5, and we have so so so much to do!" So, we kicked things in to overdrive, and started chopping, sauteing, and prepping like mad women. We basically ceased any form of chatter, and only spoke when we had questions about a recipe or needed a tool the other was using. Sounds a bit Top Chef-ish, I know, but it worked out well, and we both agreed that cooking and hostessing together was an enjoyable experience. 

Despite the flurry of cooking, we were still in our aprons when the guests arrived, frantically stirring the gravy and setting up the warming trays. We plied the everyone with plentiful wine, and trays of hummus and carrots (mercifully put to good use after we nixed the planned glazed carrots dish due to lack of time and sanity). No one seemed to mind our apron-clad, frenzied selves with the smell of turkey floating around the apartment and glasses of wine in hand.

Once everything was as good as we were going to get it, we instructed everyone to fill a plate and find a place to sit. Then we snuck off, shed the aprons, tossed our cocktail dresses on, joined the party, and piled plates with delicious food.

Even a few weeks later, it still makes me cheesily happy to talk (err, write?) about Friendsgiving. Despite the stress of cooking an entire Thanksgiving meal for the first time in our lives (and for 25 people!), we had a great time. And having friends from all aspects of our lives come together for the occasion was a really nice way to kick off the holiday season.

Next year, though, we're going to do a few things differently. Yes, this brings us to the "if you decide to throw your own Friendsgiving" portion of the post. If we invite that many people again, we're going to aim for a potluck style meal in which we provide only the protein and the booze. All of our side dishes were edible, and dare I say delicious? But the size of apartments in this city does not allow for adequate prep space, oven capacity, or availability of tools, making cooking multiple dishes for two dozen people a real challenge.  And, literally everyone we invited really wanted to bring something, so I don't think the transition to a group-sourced meal will dissuade people from attending our second annual Friendsgiving next year.

Speaking of booze, provide plenty (even if you don't drink and/or some of your guests don't, the rest will make up for it). Gracefully accept in advance that you are not Martha Stewart or staring in a sitcom, and as such, your meal is not going to be ready promptly, nor will your guests all show up at once. No one will lead a revolt due to those factors, but a full glass of wine will squelch any impatience they might feel until you pull the golden turkey out of the oven triumphantly (and a presentable apron will make you feel a little less self-conscious about greeting your guests in leggins and a t-shirt) 

Oh and for the love of all things turkey, make sure you take the neck out of the bird before you roast him.

One last thing. Here are all the recipes we used (they're also on the "LKTC-tested recipes" page): 

• dry brine turkey with classic herb butter (in the herb butter, I didn't use sage, but used fresh chopped rosemary instead)
• roasted garlic mashed potatoes 
• mac n cheese (note: I make fairly significant substitutions, in which [smoked] gouda and provolone replace the cheddar. I use a ratio of 2 to 1 for the gouda/provolone mixture) 
• apple sausage stuffing (we didn't use sage) 
• cranberry sauce 
• green beans and bacon
• rosemary olive oil bread
• gravy (subbed butter for oil, and added a dollop of the herb butter that we set aside when buttering the turkey)

cooking outside the LKTC

As I mentioned, I'm spending a little less than a week at home in between jobs.  For a while, when I would come back to the Lake, there were a few neighborhood places I insisted we visit. Then two of my three favorites closed.  So we've done more in-house cooking/eating.  A beyond-familiar concept to many, maybe, but not always for us.  


But what better day to turn out a southern meal and have friends over than Memorial Day?  Mom and I woke up and decided we just had to have pulled pork, which, because pork takes 8 to 10 hours in a slow cooker, demanded an early morning covert trip to the grocery in baseball caps (hey, when the entire small town knows your dad as being one of the only male teachers at his school, you are often accosted at the grocery, whether you look like you just woke up or not). Standing in line for Starbucks while Mom paid for the pork, I ran in to our good family friend.  More accurately, our good family friend had to shake my shoulder to snap me out of my Blackberry coma to say hello.  Details.


Luckily their family had also been thinking of throwing a pork in the crock pot and having people over, so we joined forces.  Before we went off on yet another (non-grocery) shopping adventure, Mom and I tossed the giant pork in a spice rub, put the crock pot on low, and hoped it'd cook in time.  When we got back, the true adventure began.  (Note: more accurately, Mom did the pork handling and I observed, for I have an irrational fear of raw meat)


I decided to try and recreate a barbeque sauce originally published by the Pioneer Woman, but introduced to me by Allie at one of our weekly dinners.  When Allie made it, I merely looked on as she fought with the chile peppers in adobo sauce, and silently patted myself on the back for volunteering to make the (easy by comparison) mac and cheese and peach cobbler.  This time, I'd be the one doing everything from onion dicing to pepper fighting. And I had also promised to help mom try a new potato dish in lieu of the now-tired mac and cheese dish.  


We didn't exactly get off to a promising start.  See, Mom received this recipe one day in a Williams-Sonoma store.  Much like other W-S recipes, it looks simple enough.  Then you read it.  And even then it doesn't sound so challenging.  Until you get to the part where you bake potatoes, then refrigerate them overnight, then grate them, skin and all.  


Wait, you refrigerate them overnight?? I stopped Mom as she was ticking off the steps.  We both shared an "oh crap" look, and Mom made the executive decision that we were not the kind of women who hand grate refrigerated potatoes.  We were the kind of women who laughed at the kind of women who grate refrigerated potatoes....as we sliced open a bag of pre-grated "Simply Potatoes." 


And that's just what we did.  So after I got the barbeque sauce going, I poured 2 bags of simply potatoes in a dish along with an obscene quantity of white cheddar, shallots, sour cream, and the bacon we decided to add (really, what doesn't taste better with bacon?).  I'll spare you the description of what it feels like to mix that with your hands.  Instead, I'll just tell you that it turns out deliciously, although we recommend going lighter on the shallots and heavier on the cheese and bacon (we call this the southern-ized version).  I will also spare you the detailed description of the two of us trying to drain the boiling liquid from the crock pot with the pork still in it. I will just tell you it wasn't super graceful. 


And despite my issues peeling an onion (see proof below) and straining adobo sauce away from peppers, the Pioneer Woman's sauce turned out as smoky and rich as I hoped it would be the second time around. Even the cobbler turned out well even though I was making it basically from memory and letting an intrepid 7 year old do all the work.  


I'd call it a successful Memorial Day impromptu dinner party all around.  I'm no Pioneer Woman, but I do a pretty good job of following directions, and I'm getting better at improvising when life just needs a little more bacon.  

(peeling an onion pretty much always goes this poorly)

(getting all the sauce ingredients lined up and opened)

(this doesn't really do the sauce justice, but really you must try it)

(improvising in action)

(gratin pan purchased just for this occasion)

(the spread, minus cobbler)

happy state of denial

(sunrise cheese grating)

(amazing bbq sauce)

(they only look harmless...)

(I could dig in to this with a big spoon.  I restrained myself)

(bubbling hot, topped with vanilla ice cream-heaven)

I don't think I mentioned that I registered for the GRE a few weeks ago.  Probably because I'm avoiding it.  As we've discussed, I excel in employing creative methods to avoid things I really would rather not do.  


I kept telling myself I would officially start studying in May.  Well, hello there May, I'm not ready for you.  


You'd think that after my workload shift, I'd have hammered out a study plan with some of my free time in the office.  But that would mean I wasn't existing in a happy state of denial regarding looming ego-crushing standardized testing.


So naturally I sat down this weekend to work out a strategy, right?


What, do you think I bought the dinner in those photos at Harris Teeter?      


Instead of cracking the spine on the GRE book that's been on my table since early April, I went to a royal wedding party in my old prom dress (and a recently acquired tiara), lost some of my sanity to the DMV the next morning, recreated one of my favorite Venice house dinners last night, and spent 3+ hours exploiting the unlimited brunch at Masa 14 this morning. 


Even though the royal wedding party kept me up late (I must say, wearing my senior prom dress the second time around was far more fun than the first, which could have something to do with NOT having the stomach flu this time), I was up at 6  yesterday morning.  My internal alarm clock is insane (and the flights that take off over my apartment starting at 6 don't help).  


So I prepped the mac and cheese ingredients for last night's dinner.  What, you don't grate cheese at 6am? After some cheese grating and bread crumb making, Sophie and I embarked on the DMV adventure. 


After we got lost trying to find 395, we finally found the DMV.  Along with the 8,947 other Virginians who also needed the fine services of the DMV on what is being called the nicest day of spring.  Two and a half hours later, we left with "VOID" hole-punched through our soon-to-expire NC licenses and at least half as much mental stability as we had when we first arrived. {New VA licenses arrive in a week...fingers crossed for a good photo}


Luckily Allie and I were hosting this week's Sunday dinner (on Saturday), so I had mac n cheese and peach cobbler to distract me from the DMV trauma.  Allie made bbq sauce and handled the chicken (touching raw meat still freaks me out a bit, and our dinners tend to be a collaboration).  Andy and Leana took turns bartending, mixing up strong batches of Arnold Palmers made with firefly vodka.  We soaked it up with a line up of cornbread, mac n cheese, bbq chicken, and peach cobbler with ice cream.  


Not that I had a huge brunch ahead of me the next day or anything... 


Except that I did.  Sophie's birthday is today, so we made reservations to try the brunch at Masa 14.  They offer an unlimited brunch, meaning you can order any item on the brunch menu, in any quantity, including drinks like mimosas, lemonade lager, and bacon bloody marys. Sophie and I devised a two-prong attack strategy, much like our Georgia Brown's adventure.


At Masa 14, the small plates come to the tables as they're ready, so we had a nearly constant barrage of little brunch dishes.  Everything was amazing, but I hit a bit of a wall shortly after we started the lunch round.  I don't think the bottomless mimosa thing helped my cause, not that I'm complaining.  No one is allowed to complain when bottomless mimosas are involved.


Maybe 3 hours after the birthday brunch kicked off, we reluctantly rolled out of our comfy booth and dispersed for an afternoon of general lethargy brought on by borderline gluttony.  It was glorious.


Thank goodness I had to squeeze in to my old prom dress before today.