Beatings Will Continue Until Morale Improves

I love that quote. One of my favorite co-workers, friend, and contributor to WMEP has a mug on her desk with that saying. I spontaneously think of this quote several times a day.  It makes me smile and it keeps me from walking into traffic.

I won’t complain about work – because it’s so cliché and ridiculous. Yes it’s stressful. Yes it’s the opposite of efficient, collaborative and smart. But it’s just work.  Your job sucks too right? Don’t answer that.

(this is more like me thinking out loud than a post. but you knew that)

 

 

 

Aprons are for sissies

There were some funny moments on turkey day. I want, no I need to share this with you! Are you sick of Thanksgiving posts yet? I promise, last one! Sorry about all the exclamation points! I’m like….excited.

Last year, in a moment of desperation when carving the turkey, my husband – a holiday Macgyver (too young for this reference?) made a makeshift apron from the only thing he could find. A Glad garbage bag. Now it’s a tradition… or something like that.

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That picture cracks me up. What’s wrong with that man?
Here’s my other favorite chuckle that day…my nine year old made place cards for all our guests. Phonetic spelling ruled the day.

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Welcome Doug. Or Dug.

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Welcome Ty. Or Tie.
Hee Hee Hee. I laughed for hours. Seriously. Send help.
Finally, ever see a line in a kitchen? My lovely sister-in-law was thinking through the perfect piece of turkey when this crowd formed behind her.

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That’s her in the pretty green top realizing the natives are restless! Bless her heart.

Thanks God for the Thanksgria

Before I tell you about the sangria, let me show you my turkey. Where are pictures of your turkey?? Come on, I’ll show you mine and then you show me yours. I know you took a pic.

Here’s the before and after

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Here’s a picture of my plate – because everyone always asks what a vegetarian eats on turkey day. Ok one person asked but that’s fine. Here you are.

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See, I did good.
And finally, the holiday in a glass – the thing that makes ricing 20 pounds of potatoes and still having your husband say it’s not enough worth it. The gas in my engine, the wind beneath my wings, the fuel to my…you know.

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I hope you all slept in or woke up at pre-dawn to buy something at a crowded store. Whatever works for you. Cheers everyone!

Who’s a happy turkey?

Scenes from yesterday’s prep
This is the easiest cranberry sauce ever. Like. Ever.

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Turns to this

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Drying out the bread for stuffing. Other families just let it go stale naturally, but good bread doesn’t last long in my family. Mainly because of me. Let’s be honest.

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Just a little sweet potato to go with the butter.

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Yes, that is heavy cream in the back ground. Not part of the recipe but I like to have it close by just in case.
And finally, the star of today’s performance –

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Gobble Gobble!

’twas the dawn before Thanksgiving…

And all through the house, not a creature was stirring, except for the nutty woman making cranberry sauce at 5am.

It’s pre-gobble time. Run to the store time, prep your turkey time, run to store again time. I love this holiday. It’s my all-time fav. We never celebrated it when I was growing up, which is ironic because a holiday about food would have fit right in. My husband’s family taught me to love Thanksgiving. The gathering, the laughing, the shouting, the forcing-the-vegetarian-to-mix-sausage-stuffing-by-hand-ing.  I digress.

Through the years I’ve found my own way of doing the holiday – I’ve tried garlic mashed potatoes and truffle mashed potatoes and pecan glazed sweet potatoes and apple cranberry stuffing and every other recipe that Martha Stewart pimped out. You know what I learned? All I need is pounds and pounds of butter. And maybe some heavy cream. Other than that – I leave everything alone.  My mashed potatoes just have potatoes in them.  I save the pecans for the pie, and the craziest thing I add to my stuffing is some green onions.

I’m not sure if I’ll be able to blog throughout the cooking, but I’ll try.  Here’s almost everything – minus the 28 pound fresh bird that’s waiting for me at the market.

If I knew how to do one of those cool panoramic shots, I would. But I don’t, so I won’t.

Yes, we’re a Poppycock family. There’s no hiding it now.

I thought I’d highlight two of my favorite “cheats”.

Why cut celery and onions when you can use that time for more productive things, like watching Top Chef Seattle (do you love it like I love it?).

The best $2.99 cents you have ever spent at Trader Joe’s.

Here’s the other thing I don’t bother making from scratch … sorry about the blurriness but it’s early you know. Get off my back.

I do make a quick honey and maple syrup to drizzle on top. See, it’s kinda like homemade.

Ok, gotta get back to my day. Hope you are all knee deep in turkey day prep too! No? Damn.

It’s not your last meal.

I say this in my house once or 12 times a week. You don’t like dinner? You’ll be fine. Lunch isn’t up your ally? No worries, stick around for a few hours and another meal will appear. Why? Because we live in the first world, because food is over abundant and available 24/7 to us, and mostly because we’re lucky as shit – if you don’t like your food, get over it.

This past week there was a lot of buzz around a New York Times food review that tore apart a TV Chef owned restaurant in NYC.  The entire article was written in questions. At first, I loved the article. I laughed. I thought it was clever and sarcastic and biting.  And then I reread it a few days ago because it’s been on my mind. I was wrong. I don’t like the article at all. I know it’s a review, I get that. And I’m all for honesty in journalism. But this wasn’t that. This was written by a man-boy who basically had a hissy fit because he didn’t like the food. He scorched the concept, the people, the food, the location – everything. It was an all out teenage tantrum wrapped in sardonic writing, and he seemed very happy with himself.

I’m not sure why this is bothering me and I’ve never been to the place that was reviewed.  I believe it wasn’t/isn’t great. And I’m sure there were truths to what the writer said in the article. But please, calm down dude, it’s not your last meal.

Here’s the article I’m talking about.

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/11/14/dining/reviews/restaurant-review-guys-american-kitchen-bar-in-times-square.html

Just another Scorpio Sunday

I’m a Gemini mom married to a Cancer dad livin’ in a Scorpio world with my two kiddies.  My oldest, my goldest, turned 14 today. Gulp.  I know she doesn’t want me to post about her, but I have to. It’s a blogging law.

So in 1998, at 5am ish I woke my hubby up. He was sleeping on the couch because we’d had a fight and I needed the entire queen mattress to myself to get over it…..we walked down our railroad apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan (passing uncle Larry as he was about to walk Gracie).  We hailed a cab and headed to Lenox Hill Hospital – about 10 blocks South of us. My water broke in the cab but the driver had us there in 5 minutes (we tipped big for the clean up!).

She was born shortly after, the first grandkid for both our families. There have been lots of great moments in between, each worthy of its own post. Like when she was a few months old and I fell asleep feeding her on the couch and dropped her, or when she ate so much cake at her 1st birthday party that she passed out from the sugar high, or when everyone told me she was turning yellow from all the baby food and I told them it was just her skin tone. Good times.

Smart, Beautiful, Funny, and most importantly ours!

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