Since I didn't feel like writing a complete new entry, I've decided to add pics to this one. You're welcome, and I'm sorry.
Because it's Christmas Eve. And remember when I was going to write more about adventures in the kitchen?
Since I have yet to begin this year's adventure, I have no pictures to post (maybe I'll remember to take some during prep and regale you with food porn later in the week). But what I do have is a menu plan and some fun (ehh...) stories behind the dishes and why we have to have them every year.
Let's go.
Turkey - Because we do it every year. My family has always been one to eat the exact same meal at Christmas and Thanksgiving, so we always had turkey. Sometimes we'd get a small ham or just a ham steak for my grandfather. Sometimes my aunt would make a roast (I'll admit, I miss that. I'm not actually a huge fan of turkey). Apparently she cooks it all day and includes Dr. Pepper or Coke in the (or AS) the glaze, and it's amazing. Note to self - I've never actually made a roast. I should remedy this, because it's one of my favorite things. That's the thing about my favorite dishes - I tend to not make them myself, for fear of completely screwing them up. Anyway, I did a brined and roasted turkey the first year in the house, and we've fried one ever since. It's life-changing. This year, my uncle will be bringing a smoked turkey, which intrigues, excites, and scares me, all at the same time.
Ham - I know what I just said. But it's my house and I do what I want. I got the smallest one they still had at the store yesterday, and I'm making that shit. Because when it comes to meaty leftovers, ham beats turkey every time.
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| Fuck. Looks like you're getting sideways pics this time. I don't even pretend to have the energy to fix them. This is the ham and turkey in the oven. You lean that shit to fit it all in. |
Mashed Potatoes - This is just a standard, right? This was always exclusively my mom's contribution, until she got sick, then it passed to me. I still don't make them as good as I feel she did (see above). Every time I make them, I change something, and am still in search of the perfect method and ingredient list. Half and Half? Milk? Heavy Cream? Potato ricer? Immersion blender (no, they get all gluey)? Hand masher? Food mill? Jury's still out. I'll report back.
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| Two pots of potatoes. And ham glaze and green beans. Doin' it... |
Cornbread motherfucking dressing - This is my grandparents' recipe. I spent my entire childhood believing it was my grandmother's, but was informed not too many years ago that Daddy always made it before I was old enough to remember. Before my grandmother got too sick, I sat down with her to go over all the things she'd taught me to make. This was one of those things. Inevitably I'd have to call her for clarification or measurements, so I decided I needed to write it down before I couldn't call her anymore. It was a strange day. And I was really sad the entire time. But I remember trying to make her laugh with stories of when we had collectively ruined the dishes, so she didn't see that I was trying not to cry. And so that it was a good time for her, rather than something sad. It's still one of my favorite memories.
Green Beans - They have to be Italian cut and they have to come from a can. I don't give a shit if it's possibly the worst way to serve these things; it's a definable taste memory that I refuse to let go.
Deviled Eggs - I absolutely hated these things until I was in my early 20's. But I went to a dinner party with my best friend, and the host's wife made some that were so incredibly good. Ever since, I've liked them. Even though none have been as good as the ones from that party. Strange how a good experience can create tolerance and affection for something you'd previously hated. Interesting, I never would have imagined deviled eggs as a metaphor for life. Well done, brain. Well done.
Pie - Specifically, chocolate meringue. I include this because I enjoy the memories attached to it. I'm not making pie. I haven't in years. I'm not entirely sure I remember how. I think I wrote it down. This was one of those things that my grandmother held on to making until she was completely unable to do so without help or at all. That's because it involves standing at the stove and stirring the custard forever until it's perfect. And when I say perfect, I'll just say that she was a little crazy about things being just right. My grandmother only really made this because of how much my mom loved it. We didn't have one every year, but when we did, mom was so happy. Once I was taught how to do it, my mom would request a chocolate pie for very, very special occasions. I'm sure a request for one is coming up for her birthday this year. Anyway. Grandma taught me how to make it, how to tell if it was going well or getting jacked mid-process. She also passed down her recipe for meringue, which is super creamy and insultingly sweet. She'd yell at me for eating raw out of the bowl, which I personally feel is just ridiculous.
That's essentially the core of the menu, and the things we have all the time. The dessert list fluctuates based on family requests. In the last few years we've added my roasted root vegetables (seriously, I say life-changing a lot, but anything that gets boys to eat Brussels Sprouts fits the description) and a homemade cranberry sauce recipe that might be the best thing I got out of that relationship. Wow. That was bitchy. Disregard.
I realize this isn't really interesting, and now you're hungry (I am now, literally, starving). You're welcome.
Coming up later this week: pics of the goodness, and my "pre new years inspirational un-fuck your life to be a better person" post.
