"The greatest enemy to productivity must surely be the electric blanket." ~ Jane Austen
Just a quick note to wish my loyal readers (all four of you) a very happy Turkey Day. Stay safe and don’t trample too many old ladies on Black Friday.
I’d like to invent a cocktail called the Shirley Hemphill.
Last year for our big family meal on Christmas eve, we (approximately 25 of us) had a giant pot of Sugo, our family red sauce, with pasta, cheeseballs, meatballs, and the various cuts of meat that go into the Sugo. The year before there were three monstrous lasagnas and a baked ziti. Amo la mia famiglia.
Fall is upon us; it is November. There’s a great movement on Facebook to say one thing you’re grateful for every day in November. Here is mine: Pumpkin season is over. No more Pumpkin Spice lattes, beer, muffins, scrambled eggs, croissants, pasta, or Drunken Punkin Chardonnay (if you know how to trademark that name, please let me know in the comment section.) I HATE pumpkin flavored stuff. It is omnipresent in all groceries, markets, restaurants, etc. But I digress. Hell, digress is all I do nowadays.
Guys, I would be the world’s worst vegetarian. As much as I try, I just plain don’t like most vegetables. I wish I could be one of those people who are satisfied with salad, or can’t wait for Brussels sprouts to come into season. I’d love to be able to fill up on broccoli or carrots, leaving no room for pasta or meat. But alas! My taste buds won’t let me. I would be one of the few vegetarians in history who actually gained weight, because I’d just eat pasta, potatoes, and bread. Reason #2? I really like to cook an eat meat a lot. Just love it.
I’m only doing this because the accompanying meal (Braised Short Ribs) is not particularly healthy or colorful. And man cannot live by bread alone. Is ketchup a vegetable? Discuss.
(Cue Homer Simpson drooling noise.)
At long last a Costco has come to my city. Last week I shuffled through the lines with everyone else to see what all the fuss was about, and now I get it: Short Ribs. There glistening in the butcher case were the most beautiful boneless beef short ribs I had ever seen. The grocery near my house carries them sporadically, and they are roughly the size of my middle finger. While I have extra large hands that look as though they should be tinkling the ivories or palming a basketball, they would not make for good eating. These, however - wow. Take a look:
Is there a word in the English language less appetizing than “casserole”? It brings to mind funeral food, pot-lucks, and choking down a mish-mash of pantry rejects that have been drowned in cream-of-something soup and baked in Pyrex with a completely inappropriate topping (Fritos, cornflakes, Velveeta etc.) Imagine a jolly, roly-poly woman (think the delightful Edie McClurg - the nosy neighbor in every 80’s sitcom you can think of) showing up at your door with a foil covered monster to help you through a hard time.