party * time

I love having people over.  I love the menu/drink planning, the anticipation, and the primping. We have not hosted a get-together other than a casual dinner or game night with 1 or 2 friends since we moved to Chapel Hill. It’s been six long months of no party-throwing!  But last night changed all that.  In honor of my birthday, Kevin issued the party decree.  He rounded up my friends’ email addresses, scheduled a time for guests to arrive, and figured out what we needed to have on hand.  I went with him to grocery store and picked out prosecco, while he procured beer. 

It is always surprising how much I actually like cleaning when I have guests coming over.  It is the perfect activity to burn off party jitters and it is fun to watch as your home slowly starts looking its best.  I love that moment when you put the last thing in place and suddenly the stage is set.  Our place looked far from perfect – cat hair is ever present on all upholstered surfaces and we are not the sort of people who dust regularly.  But there was a distinct moment when we looked up and the place was ready.  It proclaimed: cue the music, light the candles, and bring out the candy dishes, because we are having a party. 

Kevin’s concept was simple: drinks and dessert.  He asked that people just bring themselves, but if they desired to bring something, a gluten-free sweet or a drink to share would be welcome.  Two guests brought desserts they had made from scratch – a very decadent flourless chocolate torte replete with caramel sauce and some wonderful, crisp chocolate chip cookies.  Other guests poured in with all manner of toffee and chocolate barks, as well as luscious red wine.  Everyone milled about, meeting new people and sampling the sweets.  It was so deeply satisfying to have a house full of new, lovely friends.

One of my favorite things about the South is that people say they are leaving, but then stay for another half an hour.  Kevin calls it the Southern goodbye.  It is not done out of good manners, it’s a result of wanting to stay longer and linger over the interesting things to say that only manage to pop in your head the moment you put your coat on.  So while someone may have to go, they will take their time about it, and you can continue savor the party.  It’s very charming to me that just because someone has announced they are leaving doesn’t mean you can’t have a perfectly engaging long conversation with them on their way out the door – in fact, it’s encouraged. 

Eventually, all the guests left.  We did the dishes and played with the cats and poured over all the great little moments of the night.  In the morning our house still looked good and the champagne glasses in the dish rack struck me as downright insouciant.  They seemed sparkly and smug knowing what fun they had facilitated the night before.  While I don’t feel smug, I do feel a little sparkly inside after having such a nice get-together.

taco night!

We had snow again lately.  When it snows, all good North Carolinians storm the grocery store.  This time, as we braved the crowds and marveled at how full everyone’s carts were, I caught sight of a woman purchasing organic taco shells.  I had seen them on the shelves before.  But I’d never considered buying them.  Taco shells are not involved in any authentic cuisine.  This I knew after nine+ years in San Francisco, cultivating an appreciation of real Mexican food.  Despite what I knew, I was intrigued.

Truth be told, a few weeks ago I’d lingered over a taco seasoning packet, much like the Old El Paso ones my mother favored for taco night.  This one promised no MSG and no gluten ingredients.  I felt ashamed as I handled the packet, worried someone might see me.  Seasoning packets are in the same category as bottled salad dressing and Molly McButter – a category of products I had decided was not for me.  If you rely on these products, how can you learn to season your food properly?  Since I was committed to learning, I decided a long time ago to beef up my spice collection, purchase a variety of vinegars, keep lemons and garlic in the house, and use a lot of salt.  Becoming familiar with how to use these ingredients has brought me some confidence, and apparently a bit of snobbishness.  Despite wanting the strangely alluring packet, I put it back – after reading the ingredient label and confirming that it wasn’t something I couldn’t make myself.

As I registered my intrigue at witnessing someone purchase hard taco shells, I remembered this taco seasoning packet.  Before my internal censor kicked in, I suggested taco night to Kevin.  His face lit up.  We quickly loaded up the seasoning, shells, organic ground beef and a fancy ‘Mexican’ blend of shredded cheese.  Tonight was going to be taco night, and we were excited. 

We both grew up loving taco night.  My mother remembers me telling her as a child that we always laughed more as a family when she made tacos for dinner.  Kevin has plenty of positive associations with taco night as well.  He makes great food shoveling gestures as he describes how he used to fill the taco shells at the table & chow down on them. 

When we got home, I realized for the first time that I’d never made tacos before.  Luckily there are instructions right on the little seasoning packet.  I started with the suggested chopped onion sauté and then added the beef and the spices.  It surprised me to learn that a can of tomato sauce was recommended.  I didn’t have tomato sauce, but I did have some tomato paste, which I stirred into the beef just before taking it off heat.  I was scared to taste it, afraid I’d outgrown my taste for the kind of tacos I loved as a child.  But this was taco night.  We were destined to have a good time.  So I sampled a bit of the beef on a chip and it was good.  It was rather spicy, in fact.  We now expectantly set about the task of structuring our tacos to very particular specifications.  Separately, we grew up preferring to layer the hot, seasoned beef in the shell first, then sprinkle on the cheese, so it would melt.  After that one would pile on other cold-temperature toppings, which included iceberg lettuce in both of our houses.  My mother would always have chopped tomatoes and sliced black olives on hand.  Kevin’s mother provided salsa.  The one element we added to our taco night that had not been present in either of our childhoods was avocado slices.  

We each started off with two tacos and couldn’t help but fix a third.  It was discovered that one must heat up the taco shells in the oven, instead of eating them right out of the package, despite how impatient one is on taco night to get to the taco eating part.  We ate, we laughed, we remembered fun family dinners, and we made a tiny sailboat out of broken shell pieces and an avocado slice.  The phrase “I love taco night” was uttered several times throughout the evening. 

It’s hard not to get rigid about food rules or let my food snobbishness take over in the grocery store.  But this time I’m really glad I followed my intuition.  Our dinner involved a seasoning packet, but one that opened up a feeling we both wanted – memories of family dinners where our mothers didn’t have to work too hard and together, everyone ate happily.    

The next day Kevin introduced me to his family’s tradition of making taco salads for lunch with the leftovers from taco night.  He lamented the fact that we don’t have Wishbone Italian Dressing, which was a keystone ingredient for his childhood palate.  We used homemade white balsamic vinaigrette to which we’d added a little garlic powder.  It sufficed.  But I think we’re going to buy some Wishbone dressing.   

a pause

My Dad recently unearthed this picture of me; I’m about 5 years old here.  It captures something that feels relevant to this moment: it’s a pause.  Lately my more involved domestic undertakings have been turning out wonky.  The no-fail Bolognese sauce recipe suddenly produced much too watery results.  The comforting mushroom risotto dish which required a lot of arm strength turned out bland and unappealing.  While the latter disappointment was mostly caused by a dearth of parmesan cheese, I can still take a hint.  I am not at the top of my game.  I need to pause.

A week ago I lost my Grandma.  My body has been reacting to the grief with tightness and pain in the muscles around my sacrum.  What with the recent severe weather, the grief and the pain, it seems there is a strange confluence of forces acting to keep me at home, resting, and still.

Luckily, there is nothing wrong with feeling down, with feeling grief.  I am grateful to have had some extra free time during this past week.  Given that my concentration has been a bit compromised, it’s a relief that my schedule was mostly cleared of important tasks – so I was not at risk to muck up anything terribly vital.      

My time off at home has been filled with lots of little wedding-related tasks and coffee and slumbering cats.  I’ve assigned myself the project of.uploading photos to our wedding website.  It seems to be well chosen, as the photos of our good times in SF, roadtrip across the country, and new life here prove to be smile-inducing.  Projects, if selected carefully, help me immensely.  I love feeling productive.  I have ideas of moving on to making paper flowers later.  But I am trying not to get too ambitious.  I need tasks with small steps that I can undo if I get something wrong.  Since paper flowers involve quick-drying glue, they should probably be put on hold for now.

Yesterday I put together a simple recipe that I’d like to share with you.  Since it has so few ingredients I knew it would be perfect for right now.  The concept came from my trusty copy of The Silver Palate New Basics (original, not 25th anniversary edition).  After reading its suggestion to add Cointreau to the milk/egg mixture I got the idea to throw in some bourbon, since I like bourbon’s caramel notes.

French toast with lemon and bourbon

2 eggs, beaten
about ½ cup milk (eyeball what looks good to you)
1 oz bourbon (I used Bulleit)
1 tsp lemon zest
tiny pinch nutmeg
5-6 pieces of bread, very lightly toasted
butter, for pan
maple syrup, warmed for topping

Combine first 5 ingredients and let mixture sit for 15 minutes.  I’m not sure if this is necessary, but I did it and I was happy with the way the flavors combined.  The bread should be toasted very lightly, just enough to take a little of the moisture out of it – we don’t want soggy French toast.  Put your frying pan over medium heat and melt the butter.  When pan is hot enough, stir the egg mixture.  Immediately after stirring, dip the pieces of bread into it, on both sides.  You may let them sit/soak for a few seconds, but be careful of sogginess here too.  However, if your bread is multigrain you probably should let it sit for a few seconds, since it is harder for very grainy bread to absorb a coating.  Place the coated bread in the pan and let cook until a nice golden brown color develops.  Flip the toast and let the same color develop on the other side.  If your pan is small or you are cooking them in batches, be careful to lower the heat after the first batch, or the pan will be too hot and the golden brown color will develop too quickly.

Serve the French toast with warm maple syrup.

The next time you need to pause, but you also need a nice breakfast, give this a try.