Holiday Stress

 A few weeks ago, my friend Bonnie showed up at my front door with coffee and donuts from Tim Horton's and a horrified look on her face.  "Come on in Bonnie*, what's wrong?"   We settled in at the dining room table, and she said "My family is having a homemade Christmas this year."  Bonnie reached for a donut.  "Oh,  that sounds nice!"  I was relieved for a second, "Oh wait, do you have to cook?"  Bonnie looked at me with sad eyes. "Yes, and it's not allowed to be premade, store bought, or  out of a box.  They are doing this on purpose.  My family hates me! Especially my sister, Betty-Martha-Stewart!* This was her idea! She wants me to look bad again!"  She said bitterly as she brushed crumbs and powdered sugar off her chest furiously. For those that don't know, Bonnie could be a contender as the worst cook in the state, maybe even the country.

"Your family doesn't hate you."  I said automatically.. "I can help you with this.  We can find easy, foolproof recipes, and you'll be fine. What are you supposed to make?"  I smiled reassuringly.

"My assignment is a soup AND a dessert!  Everyone is bringing  soup and either an appetizer or a dessert, I got dessert.  How am I supposed to make a dessert that's not out of a box?  I didn't even know there was such a thing!"

We googled "easy soup recipes" and  "no bake desserts" (For those of you new to this blog, Bonnie uses her oven for storage) and came up with a game plan where she would only have to cheat a little. 

The party was over the weekend, so on Monday,  I called Bonnie to see how it went.  Bonnie sounded upbeat.  "It started out bad because I forgot to plug in the crockpot."(I had let her borrow mine, and had explained what it was, and how it worked.)  We had planned a fool-proof  spicy tomato soup where basically, everything was dumped in to the pot, heated, and then garnished with tortilla chips.  "Oh" I said "You mean when you got there?"  "No" she said, "I mean I forgot to plug it in period. It worked out though,  because everyone started dipping their chips into it right away. They just  thought  I made a ton of salsa. My nephew even asked for the recipe!" Bonnie marveled.

 "Well, hey  that's just great!" I said, "and the dessert?" We had come up with a trifle recipe.  This is where we cheated with a store bought angel food cake.  We decided that nobody would call her on it, and that actually baking something was too risky. We couldn't chance burning down her house during the Christmas season.  Bonnie said,  "Well, I decided to double up the whipped cream, because who doesn't like whipped cream, I probably should've beat it longer because it was a little watery, but I was getting so tired of stirring! "Did you use mixer?" I asked. "No. What's that?" Bonnie asked.  "Never mind, go on." I said.  So Bonnie continued. "So then,  I also decided to put it all together ahead of time, so I wouldn't need to bother with it once we were at the party.  I stuffed it in the refrigerator as soon as we got there and figured it would be ok."   I mentally groaned.  "How did that go?"  I asked.  "Great!" she said enthusiastically.  They thought I made  dessert soup on purpose!" Bonnie paused to take a breath, and then continued.

"Betty made a  flaming baked Alaska in the shape of a Christmas Tree! She was pissed because everyone  seemed to like my dessert more, or maybe the were just tired of her showing off all the time! Betty made us turn off all the lights when she brought her dessert out!  They said I was clever to make an appetizer, soup, and a dessert in two dishes.  They didn't know I had screwed up everything!"  Bonnie sounded so happy!

this is how Bonnie's trifle was supposed to look

"I'm sure Betty wasn't mad." I said.  Betty is usually a very nice woman. I'm friends with her too.

"Really?" said Bonnie "On our way out,  Betty said "Wow! Nice Job. What made you think to put cold salsa in a crockpot?" she said it kind of snotty, so I got a little flustered and told her it was your idea."

"And there's more." said Bonnie. "They want to do this again next year! I told Bobby* (her husband) that we're going on a cruise instead! I'm not going through this stress again! I really don't know how people do this every year!"




*not their real names

Fussy Eaters

I was a fussy eater growing up.  I remember sitting at the dinner table for four hours once, because I refused to eat brussels sprouts.  They had an unfortunate way of floating to the top of the milk glass, which was one of my usual ways of hiding food I wouldn't eat, so I was busted.  Dad said I had to sit there until I ate them.  I don't remember exactly how the standoff ended, but I know I didn't eat the damn things. 

Top view of a Brussels sprout in milk

Side view. See how it floats?

The list of foods I didn't like and wouldn't eat was endless. I threw out countless sandwiches in the school cafeteria, because my mother seemed to think I would suddenly eat meatloaf or liverwurst or tuna salad when she wasn't looking. I was perfectly content drinking my milk and eating my one piece of fruit, if I liked the kind she gave me, and the snack pack pudding that was always also included.

To say that I would eat "if she is hungry enough" didn't work in my case, and I was perfectly healthy on my diet of pudding and grapes.  As a result, I was fine giving my own daughter peanut butter sandwiches, no jelly,  every single day for lunch when she was in elementary school.  I often pulled my hair out trying to come up with dinners she would eat, but I understood.  Today as a college student,  she eats many, many things she wouldn't eat when she was younger.  I take no credit for that. I eat a lot more foods now too, except I still won't touch a meatloaf sandwich. I think people will try things when they're ready, or........

Which brings me to today.  My friend Brenda called me in a panic.  "We've been invited to dinner at an Indian restaurant by Dan's boss, so we have to go! I've heard it's so spicy, it'll blow the top of my head off!  And what if I accidently order goat, or mutton, or is that the same thing?  See I don't know!" Brenda was almost crying.

"Relax Brenda."  I said soothingly.  "First of all, the menu is in English, so you can't accidently order goat.  Also, you know I love Indian, so you might too.  Just order any chicken dish, mild.  It's comes with a side of rice and order some naan.  That's Indian bread and it's delicious.  I think you're going to love it, but just in case, toss a can of snack pack pudding in your purse, and you'll be just fine."

Naan

Leftover Turkey

Thanksgiving is over and by now, some of us are sick of thinking up inventive ways to use up the turkey.  We've had turkey soup, turkey sandwiches, leftover turkey and stuffing, turkey tacos, turkey pot pie, turkey divan, and reread the "inventive dinners for leftover turkey" tips  on the internet many times. (turkey/tuna casserole anyone?)

The question is, why don't we just buy smaller turkeys?  People love turkey leftovers, but they love them the next day, not a week later when they are still chiseling meat off the dried out turkey carcass.  Even the dog is starting to refuse turkey.

 
 
 
 
 
 

 So next year, I'm not going to double the turkey size vs. the guests number, that is suggested on the Butterball hotline. I'm going to buy just what I think I need.  But, then again, I  probably won't.  I'll probably be heaving a 24 pound turkey for 12 into the oven again.  I will however look for one with at least three legs. That way, we can avoid the embarrassing arm wrestling and pinches under the dinner table, that occurred this year, but that's a story for another day.