To Thine Own Self, Be Food

Everyone knows how Thanksgiving works, right? You make too much food. You eat too much food. You try to send home too much food with all your guests. You still have too much food in your refrigerator even after that. At this point, you either get creative with the leftovers, or you eat them straight up as is, or you throw them away.  Usually, here at Chez Nelson, we go with the second option until we just can't stand it anymore and then we do #3. This year, though, I've got different ideas. This is a Sweet Potato and Turkey Pizza.  I made the dough from scratch, rolled it out to a 1/4" thickness, and used the rest of the Savory Garlic Philly Cooking Creme from the galette for the "sauce".  Had I not that, I would have probably gone with a seasoned olive oil brushing on the crust instead.  I don't think traditional tomato-based pizza sauce would go as well. My father-in-law had brought me some garden-grown sweet potatoes and I diced them up and

My alarm went off at seven-thirty this a.m. because it was time to turn this... into this... For the record, I should think about employing a professional part-time photographer...like my 14-year-old who...doesn't really know much about my Nikon.  By the time I remembered to get a picture of a dish, the pan had been cleaned out.  Also, I didn't get a picture of the entire spread...and who doesn't do THAT!? Keeping that in mind, here's what I did get for photos. The first picture is what's left of the Spinach-Artichoke Galette.  Along with a vegetable relish tray, taco dip and chips, and deviled eggs, this was part of the first course. The middle photo is the finished Lemon-Cranberry Bars, with a dusting of powdered sugar.  I think this one is a definite keeper, and I have been mulling over changes I'd make in the future. The bottom photo is the Vanilla Bean Ice Cream with a Whiskey Caramel Sauce...which has my nomination for Best Dessert of

You know, dear readers, that I love what I'm doing, right?  That I love four afternoons and nights this week of chopping, stirring, baking, mixing, puréeing, boiling, melting, squeezing, zesting, brining, whisking, and combining for tomorrow's Thanksgiving Feast? IdoIdoIdoIdoIdoIdoIdoIdo. Tomorrow will begin early, only because of the turkey, but otherwise, I will be quite at my leisure.  My parents are arriving at 10 a.m., with their huge 12-cup capacity coffeemaker.  My in-laws (parents, two brothers, sister, and three small children) will arrive around 11, and the first courses will begin at 12. And I will be ready. Again, I've loved every minute of the prep process.  I've looked forward to coming home, getting out my knives, doing my mise en place, and working my mojo.  Things are winding down.  For example, today's task list consisted of. 1. Wash all plates and serving dishes and utensils. Dust ceiling fans.  Vacuum.  Sweep.  Mop.   We may live like

It has been a long day.  And by long I mean on my feet.  So, my dear mother came over tonight for Day Two Prep...and I will say, she is extremely efficient in the kitchen.  She can multitask like an Olympic acrobat. 1. Make and refrigerated Bacon and Mustard Mashed Potatoes. 2. Thaw brioche for Vanilla Bean Ice Cream Bread Pudding. 3. Make and chill galette dough for Spinach-Artichoke Galette. 4. Roast squash and puree for Butternut Squash Soup. 5. Make cranberry puree for Lemon-Cranberry Bars. 6. Make graham cracker crust for #5. In short, 1. Make and refrigerated Bacon and Mustard Mashed Potatoes . 2. Thaw brioche for Vanilla Bean Ice Cream Bread Pudding. 3. Make and chill galette dough for Spinach-Artichoke Galette. 4. Roast squash and puree for Butternut Squash Soup. 5. Make cranberry puree for Lemon-Cranberry Bars. 6. Make graham cracker crust for #5. Tomorrow, school lets out early.  Plenty of time to complete Wednesday's prep list before the big show.

Thanksgiving is a mere three days away.  The food preparation begins now. The menu planning began four weeks ago, and the to-do list was sorted out two weeks ago. And now, my mostly American (and one Russian) friends, execution is key. I must admit, I sort of expected a lot of people to ask me what I'm doing for Thanksgiving.  But surprisingly, not many have.  Don't people want to talk about menus like I do?  Don't people want to know what a chef-in-waiting is going to prepare for, like, the biggest food feast of the year? No?  Oh, the hubris.   I shall soldier on anyway. My to-do for tonight included: 1. Make mashed potatoes and freeze. 2. Make cranberry chutney. 3. Make caramel sauce for vanilla bean bread pudding. But first, the filling of four dozen pumpkin whoopie pies for my son's Boy Scout banquet tomorrow night took precedence, and that set me back 45 minutes.  By my account, Item #1 was the most expendable...so making mashed potatoes was moved t

A new school term started today, and you know how those first days are...exhausting and uncertain. All I really wanted after supper tonight was something a little sweet.  A little chocolate, a little dessert, a piece of my kids' Halloween candy...but no, turns out there was nothing.  No chocolate, no banana cream pie, and the candy had long since been run through my kids' digestive and excretory systems. So, what - I mean, I gotta do everything around here or what? Necessity is INDEED the mother of invention, because here's what I did.  Toasted a piece of whole wheat bread, buttered and cinnamon-sugared it...then sprinkled it with mini-chocolate chips. As if that weren't awesome enough, I remembered suddenly that I had a bottle of Port in my wine cooler. Double booyah!  Port is a sweet, fortified red wine normally produced in Portugal.  It's heavy duty stuff, not for the Boone's Farm drinkers in the crowd...will warm your insides right up in a pinch.

*Warning: Post contains references which may make author seem older than she appears. Who here remembers phone booths?  Not in relation to Doctor Who, but those mostly-glass boxes on street corners that would more often than not have no phone book and a telephone that did not work?  I remember them too, but I never used one because by the time I would have had somebody important to call, they'd gone obsolete (the phone booth, that is.  Not the person I wanted to call). Apparently, waaay before my time, it was a fad to pack as many people as possible into a phone booth.  It looked something like this: Photo courtesy of www.mortaljourney.com. I can't think of anything I'd rather do less than cram myself (along with 20-30 people I don't know very well and who probably haven't been tested for diseases) into a space that is designed for one person, maybe two, and a decent amount of oxygen.  This here is NOT the choice way I'd spend my crazy college weekend.

I have never ever been a fan of referring to Wednesdays as 'Hump Day' for the following reasons: 1. 'Hump' is a weird word that conjures up mostly animalistic imagery for me.  Dogs and rabbits in general.  Don't get me wrong...I don't mind dogs or rabbits or humping.  At all.  I just don't want them associated with the middle of the week.  That's all.  2. Hump Day seems to imply an action that everyone should be doing, instead of being productive work citizens and contributing to the GNP.  And not humping by a dog or rabbit, but by another member of your species.  That's a lot of pressure.  I mean, some Wednesdays it's just about all I can do to get out of bed and crawl into a hot shower...much less try to hump or get humped. My own personal linguistic preferences notwithstanding, I had a pretty kick-ass Wednesday.  My fifth term of culinary school ended yesterday, and so us students are on a little end-of-term break until next Monday.  I c

Today, I want to talk about work.  My work autobio, more specfically. With the exception of the months that I birthed my three children and took my subsequent maternity leave, I have been a member of the active labor force since 1999. I graduated in 1998 with a Bachelor's degree in English and a teaching certification for grades 7-12.  My husband, who'd graduated six months before me (that scoundrel), took a software engineer job at IBM in Rochester, Minnesota...and he who gets the well-paying job first gets to call the shots. Spencer was born in April of 1999 and I started teaching 7th and 8th grade Reading that fall.  And I taught there through the spring of 2004.  I'd also managed to get my Master's in Education just before Elliot was born in August of 2004.  My plan then was to take a year off from teaching to be with my three children, who at that time were 5, 3, and infant.  That year off lasted until December, when I decided to take a long-term English sub

Today's entry title is brought to you by all those northeasterners who have a strong Jersey accent. Try it yourself.  Channel your inner Snooku or The Situation or Jonny-B (what happened to real people with real names, eh?) and say the blog title out loud. Then, you'll get the rhyme. So, it's November, right?  That means it's National Novel Writing Month (just over 10k words here, btw), not to mention the month of, like, the biggest feast of the year.  The greatest chance for people like myself to showcase our skills, wow the crowds, and dream of being able to modestly address our adoring families and friends with words like, Oh, it was nothing!  I just whipped it together in a couple of hours.   Etc., ad nauseum. Now is the time to begin planning your Thanksgiving meal menu.  Actually, last month was the time to start planning it, but those days are gone by, and we must focus on the now. What I've got here is a fun little hors d'oeuvres that totally w

What is this? If I had a decent camera on my cell phone, this picture would look like below: ............. Um. Damn.  Google failed me there.   I couldn't find a really super-duper professional Glamour Shot of the exact poached pear dessert I did for a pasta dinner Friday night.  Which, now that I think about it, makes me happy...that means not many people out there are doing what I do. Well, they probably are, but they are a.) not taking pictures or b.) are beyond the first couple of pages of Google hits. So, let me 'splain.  No, there is too much.  Let me sum up. (One million spacebucks if you can tell me what movie the above three lines come from) A firm pear, cored and peeled, poached in a bath of really sweet red wine along with a couple of cinnamon sticks and some vanilla.  I only filled the pot halfway up the pear because I wanted the gradual red fade into the natural pear color.  Then, I whipped up a sabayon sauce with egg yolks, a swe