I'm Thankful and I'm Pissed

happy thanksgiving   happy givingthanks 

I’m pissed. Ok, so maybe you can’t really tell I’m pissed because of a few little Botox injections I may have had recently, but trust me - if I could frown I would be.

     I know this is the time of year when you are supposed to be publicly acknowledging your gratitude and posting on Facebook all the things that you are thankful for. Blah, blah, blah, don’t get me wrong…I AM thankful for the many blessings in my life, but dammit…I’m still PO-ed.

     I’m ticked off because it’s that time of year when I have to listen to a bunch of idiotic puppets telling me “Happy Holidays” because they don’t have the guts to say “Merry Christmas”, for fear of not being PC, or worse (GASP!) being labeled a Christian. I'm thankful for my right to worship as I choose and I say screw all ya’ll!  I am a Christian and  proud of it so Merry-by-God-Christmas!

     I’m fired up because The Big Guy has to take a drug test just so he can drive his OWN truck, but welfare recipients can put their food stamps in their pockets...right next to their crack pipes and DON’T HAVE TO pee in a bottle.

      I'm mad because the same asshole is STILL sitting on the SAME corner holding the SAME sign that he was 12 months ago. I’ve given him money…on more than one occasion and I am grateful that I have the few extra bucks to spare. But seriously - it's time to get real dickhead! There is a motel room to be cleaned, some dishes to be washed and a floor to be swept SOMEWHERE…just not on THAT corner! I’m riled up because I have seen him dragging his lawn chair TO HIS CAR. Yes, Homeless vet, will work for food, anything helps, God bless, HAS A CAR! Grrrr…

And speaking of vets and soldiers…I’m really pissed off that they make squat for wages for defending our country while our elected fat-cat politicians sit on their righteous butts and vote themselves pay raises while they wipe the butter off their chins and palms. I'm incensed that they have retirement plans AND health insurance benefits FOR LIFE, while many of our soldiers have PTSD and missing body parts FOR LIFE! If you’re not pissed about that you should be.

I’m not upside down on my mortgage or behind on my payments, and for that I am truly grateful because I know that this is not the case of many in these tough economic times. My credit score is in the high 700’s and yet I can’t get my second home re-financed because the banks that I bailed out are the same ones who won't loan me the money for those same reasons, and yes you better believe I am livid about that!

And don't even get me started about the TSA Guy who  ransacked my suitcase and took away my 5 oz. jar of Parmesan dip but let the douche bag with the bath towel on his head go through security. He could have been hiding a rocket launcher in that up-do, yet he passed through without a question. (Am I racial profiling? Yeah...so?) TSA Woman stood behind her badge and used her credentials to feel me up with that legalized form of molestation known as the back-of-the-hand-pat-down, while TSA Guy took away my Cambozola Sauce. I know, I know...to the highly trained eye of TSA, a cheese sauce slightly resembles a shoe bomb. Not only do they get to take your junk, they get to touch your junk and you better believe my ass is chapped over that.

So yeah, I may be PO-ed, menopausal, homicidal, and hot flashin, but this is the season to give thanks, so I’m going to say this: Thank you God for the many blessings in my life, you know what they are. Thank you for our troops who put their lives on the line while we sleep, you know who they are. Thank you for my family and friends who know how I can be when I’m fired up but who still love me anyway. And yeah, I know...I owe them one.

I AM thankful and I AM smiling…really, I am! 

happy thanksgiving   happy givingthanks

Sauce du Jour: A Shocking But True Story

Note: In this post Daughter #1 will be referred to as "The Know-It-All" and Daughter #2 will be referred to as "Hates Everything".

 

The Know-It-All

I get asked on a daily basis where the name Sauce du Jour came from.  Well ok, maybe not daily but at least weekly.  Come to think of it, maybe it’s more like monthly.  Ahhh hell...it’s really more like, I think someone once asked me—but since you asked, I’ll tell ya.   



Hates Everything

     When The Know-It-All was a just a snotty kid she would say to me each night as I was setting dinner on the table, and in that snarky-snotty kid tone I might add, “so what’s the sauce du jour tonight?” Without even making fun of her hair, I would give her a totally sincere sauce answer.

 No matter what that answer was, those few syllables triggered the gag reflex in Hates Everything. Not one to be put off by a little kid barf, I would shoot them both my shut-up-and-eat-it-or-I'll-have-to-take-away-your-birthday-and/or-knock-your-tooth-out-look, and then I would put the sauce du jour on the table, much to The Big Guy’s overwhelming delight, I should say.  



       

    With that said, the name Sauce du Jour reminds me of those many special family evenings spent around our dinner table when the girls were young. They chattered on about their day and their friends, while delighting us what they had learned in school each day. 

     I do recall the sauce du jour landing on the wall one time when The-Know-It All (while still in middle school, mind you), shared with us that today, she had learned how to put a condom on.  Her grandfather, who was dining with us, spewed food while her father and I demanded to know the name of the teacher that we would be making cry the following day.  Ahhh yes, those were the coughbullshitcough good old days.
     Fast forward 20 years; Big and I often eat in front of the TV and dinner hasn’t involved a shocking topic since The Know-It-All left home. No one even asks me anymore what the sauce du jour is, even though I still make one most nights anyway.  Aiolis, beurre blancs, coulis, anglaise, you name it; if it can drape itself over something on my plate, I’ll grab my reduction pan and my whisk and get after it.

     Which brings me to this recipe. The tomato butter (pictured above) is so stinkin good you’ll be tempted to eat it on toast.  It’s one of those recipes that Big and I actually get a craving for, which got me to thinking...the next time my family is all together I think I'll whip it up. When The Know-It-All asks, “and what’s the sauce du jour tonight?” I’ll be able to say, "Tomato Beurre Blanc".  Hates Everything will throw up a little in her mouth and start protesting, without even tasting it. Maybe if I call it Tomato Ranch Dressing I can trick her into tasting it and who knows, she may even like it. If so, we would once again have something shocking to talk about at the dinner table.

This recipe is originally from Bon Appetit. I changed it up a little by garnishing it with fried prosciutto bits, because duh, everyone know that scallops and crispy prosciutto love each other and want to be at the same party. Go to the "Seafood" tab at the top of this page to view it.

Pumpkin Pickin' With Paisley

The one thing I like the most about fall is the changing of the colors, and the only good thing that I can see that comes with the cold weather is that it's soup eating season. One of my favorite fall soups is a Southwestern Pumpkin Soup, and granted I usually make it out of a can of pumpkin, although I always have good intentions of going to the pumpkin patch specifically for that reason. But then I never go. I just open up a can.
      

This year Paisley is at that perfect age to go pumpkin pickin', so her mom and I took her to the Pumpkin Patch so she could pick some pumpkins for Halloween. She liked this one...

And this one...that's a lot of soup, I'm thinking. There were so many to choose from...she finally settled on these three.

She is laughing at me because I just coughed up six bucks apiece for them and she knows that you can get them at Wallyworld for a couple of bucks each.

What's better than a pumpkin soup to take the edge off a cool fall day? Nothing that's what, unless of course it's a great fur coat and some killer boots...but that's another story. 
     I've made this soup many times over the years for Thanksgiving, mostly for Paisley's great Grandpa Joe, because he loves it the most and since he's a teensey bit of a picky eater, you know it must be good! 
     The Big Guy was out of town so my friend Cathy was the official taste tester and she gave it her three thumbs up, (she has a little deformity, but don't mention it because she's touchy about it). She was ready to hitchhike to Cleveland to get it, but since the restaurant who made it up is no longer in biz, I told her I'd post it here.

This recipe is from the (now closed) Watermark Restaurant in Cleveland, OH, so don't go there, but you can go to the "Soups-Salads-Sides" tab at the top of this page to view it.

The OOOOO Salad (as in Obsession)

Now that my tomato pie eating days are behind me I have a new food obsession. Created completely by accident but born out of necessity, my OCD now has me on a Tuna and Manchego Salad with a Lemon-Ginger Vinaigrette kick.  Oh yeah baby ~ you heard me right!

Here’s how it happened…I had this beautiful hunka-hunka Manchego cheese burnin' a hole in my refrigerator. Other than the to-die-for-Manchego-chiptole mashed potatoes that I made a week or so ago, I hadn’t really been doing anything with it, unless you count trying to cut the end of my finger off, while I sliced myself a piece for breakfast. That’s the accident part.

Ok, so that's not really my finger, but my cut was almost as bad as that. Just look at the picture below and you will see what I mean. It was taken when the cut was about 4 days old, so it looks pretty minor now, but really...it was a BIG DEAL. I bled like a stuck hog and had to cut off that big flap of skin with my bangs cutting scissors. 

Back to the salad...

So most nights when The Big Guy is out of town I just just fix myself something simple, like beef Wellington or salmon in papillote. (see the FAQ’s)  The necessity part is that I needed to use up that chunk of cheese before it turned green.

So here's what I did...drizzed some lemon-ginger olive oil over a piece of ahi tuna, then pressed some sesame seeds on to it. Doesn't everyone have lemon-ginger olive oil on hand? I thought so. It’s also the base for the vinaigrette unless you don’t have it, then you go to plan B, which is olive oil, fresh minced ginger and lemon juice. By the way, this is a great brand and there are lots of delicious oils to choose from. You should check it out, even though I get no kickback whatsoever.

 
Stay with me.  Sear the sesame coated tuna while you are grating the Manchego or opening the wine, then set it aside to rest a bit before slicing it. Meanwhile, put the salad together.

     Here's where the fireworks come in. From the salty kalamata olives, briny capers, and nutty-ness of the browned sesame seeds, to the buttery-earthy Manchego, and the meaty seared tuna, to the tart lemon and the bite of ginger, this salad is simple, but loaded with flavor.  Seriously...your mouth will be screaming OOOOO and your tongue will be begging for more.  
  

 

Go to the “Soups-Salads-Sides” tab at the top of this page to see how it all comes together.  

Cold Turkey On Tomato Pie

It is a sad day for me. For breakfast I polished off the last piece of tomato pie which is likely to be the last tomato pie of my tomato pie eating season. You see, from mid summer until right about now I’m pretty much obsessed with tomato pie. I eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
     You can ask The Daughters…they call me up and say, “what are you doing, Mom?” and I say, “eating tomato pie.”

It’s no secret that I am not a baker and that I hate to make dough, mostly because I suck at it, so at first I was a little intimidated by the thought of making a pie crust. When I read the recipe and saw that there were two sticks of butter in it, with my name written all over them, I had no choice but to face my fears and fire up the ole' Cuisinart. I dumped the ingredients in the machine, closed my eyes, prayed to the pastry gods, pushed the button and counted to ten. What resulted was a blob of dough that yielded enough buttery goodness for two crusts. Turns out I can make pie crusts! Not only that, but I can make crusts that are so flaky and buttery and light that you won’t even notice them sneaking up on your butt. 
.

I start making the tomato pies in mid summer, when tomatoes are at their peak and believe me when I tell you that you have to use real garden tomatoes, not the store bought ones that have no taste. By the beginning of fall I’m pretty well strung out on pie and could even be considered a tomato pie junkie. Come October I’m prepared to mainline if necessary and I’m getting all nervous and twitchy because I know that my dealer is closing the Farmers Market door in my face and there is not a damn thing I can do about it. I come off that tomato pie high and have hallucinations about knocking off a Hutterite with a pressure cooker, just to get one more fix before she turns fresh into stewed tomatoes.

The Farmers Market closed about a week ago and now I have one..only one garden tomato and three store bought ones left. Can you spot the difference above? That’s just not an adequate ratio to fake a real tomato pie, so as of today I am officially going cold turkey. 
     Yes indeed it is a sad day for me, so if anyone knows of a Tomato Pie Over-Eaters Anonymous Support Group, call me ASAP...I feel the shakes comin' on. 

  

My sister gave me this recipe about 8 years ago and for that she has a solid place in my will. I make it about 10 times during the tomato season, yielding 20 pies, which is almost enough to get my fix on. Go to the "Misc. Recipes" tab at the top of this page to view it. 

                                                  

Calling All Grandmas

The cutest and smartest baby that was ever born just turned one year old this past week. Paisley is so smart that she is practically stringing whole sentences together and she can almost sing all the words to Born to be Wild. Therein lays MY problem. The kid is talking and I don't have a Grandma name.

 

As shallow and narcissistic as this makes me sound, I am just going to go with it and admit that as much as I LOVE being a “grandmother”, I HATE being called “Grandma” (there I said it). It just sounds so...old…and uncool…and I happen to think I am at the very least, borderline cool. I mean, my own kids have never specifically told me that I'm cool, but I think maybe once back in high school I was considered cool. No wait, that was someone else. Nevermind.
     Anyway, no offense intended to any of you old and/or cool or uncool grandmas out there who WANT to be called grandma—I’m just not one of them.

Giving a tutorial on how to operate a tricycle   

The little Brainiac is not only walking and talking, she is teaching her parents how to follow behind her and push her while she rides a bike. She has also recently leaned to jump and then she does this other brilliant thing, like look at us, and then it makes us all jump. I'm proud to say I think she is taking after me already because I can look at people too and make them jump.
     So what’s my problem you ask?

     Baby Einstein is talking, and repeating names and practically reciting the entire dictionary, so I’m really gonna need a name, and soon, that’s not “Grandma."  My one friend is “Nonni” and another is “Nana”, so those are taken. I know a GG, a me-maw and a G-ma, so those names are in the out pile too.

The Big Guy got his name already…he’s “Cappy”, which I totally love and think is really cute. It’s short for “Captain,” in case you hadn't figured it out, and I can vouch for the fact that he loves being called “Captain” by everyone from Customs officials to dock workers to beach bartenders. Seriously! You should see his chest swell. 

     I don’t mean to whine, because that's not my style, but dammit, I want a name to make my chest swell!  Well I take that part back, that’s already happened, but I do want a cute little title that tells the world that I’m Paisely’s really cool granny.  (Author's note: Risa—Grammy Tammi just ain’t workin' for me so step away from the comment button!)

So c'mon help me out here, Paisley’s about got the i-phone figured out so I'm sure she will be calling me at any minute, wanting me to take her to her next Mensa meeting and I gotta have a name so she can introduce me as _____________, her really cool Grandma!

Paisley...wake up...the Mensa meeting is adjourned!

This recipe is from Bon Appetit and it is pure baby brain food...Dulce de Leche Cheesecake Bars. Mine look a little different than the picture on epicurious.com because, 1. I'm not a baker and 2. because I live in Hickville I can not get "purchased dulce de leche" as called for in the recipe (I used caramel) and 3. I topped mine with espresso salt, rather than fleur de sel becaue it's better or maybe I just didn't have fleur de sel, I don't remember. Go to the "Desserts" tab at the top of this page for the recipe.

There Is A Food God

Justus Drugstore has been on my restaurant radar for the past few years. Located in The Big Guy’s hometown of Smithville, MO makes it a real legit reason for me to go willingly to all those family reunions. Besides that it just may be one of thee best restaurants in the country and you know I know what I’m talking about because I am a card carrying food snob and wanna-be-restaurant critic. The place has been getting major write ups in all of the food and travel magazines, and their mushroom soup was voted one of the best restaurant dishes in the country in 2008!
     I LOVE the whole farm to table movement and Jonathan Justus practically invented it. Well maybe he didn’t invent it but he is for dang sure is at the top of the food chain in implementing it. Almost every single thing on his menu comes from about a two hundred mile radius of Smithville. The mushrooms in your risotto were likely picked that morning and the meats are so fresh you can practically still feel a heart beat.

The Amuse Bouche'

So let’s get to the food...I was giddy as all get out and like any foodie worth her sea salt I intended to sample as many items as possible. 

     The waitress umm, I stand corrected…I mean the “server”, who corrected me seemed to really know her stuff but her stuff, if I’m being honest here, was overshadowed by her impatience. When you put an uber cool menu under my nose I will twenty question you, I will torture you and I will tip you well, but do not, I repeat, do not sit me in Hog Heaven then expect me to randomly order like I'm a senior citizen at the Dead Lobster or somewhere equally as nasty.  I'm warning you, I have questions and I WILL need answers!

The Cerviche served with Gaufrette Potato Chips 

I really wanted to chat her up about the bar menu and all the choices of house infused liqueurs. Her annoyance with me caused me to make a hasty decision and order the Sangria, which by the way was the best Sangria I have ever had and which I then pawned off on The Big Guy because I wanted to try a cocktail. The waitress, oh I mean the server didn’t have time to answer our questions about the cocktail menu because she had to go pull the stick out of her ass, so I blindly ordered the Silverelder Fizz which was Tanquerey, vanilla vodka, lemon-lime, elderflower, egg white, seltzer and oh-so-divine!  My sister-in-law Diane, had a cocktail with berry vodka, rose petal liqueur, Ceyelon cinnamon tincture and a burnt orange twist. You smelled the roses and tasted the cinnamon and orange right before you fell into a delirium. The only bummer was that it took the waitress server twenty minutes or better to get the drinks to our table.

     Ok, so she was the only waitress, errr, server working so I will cut her some slack, but she immediately left a bad taste in my mouth and I hadn’t even been served my Amuse Bouche yet. I was able to forgive her because my tiny bite of crostini topped with pork and pecans, a smear of a raspberry jam and horseradish foam was to freakin die for!  

Squash blossoms with corn beef, poached egg
and brown butter emulsion

For starters we ordered the cerviche which was ahhh-mazing!  The hors d’ oeuvre special was fried squash blossoms stuffed with corn beef (nothing like the crap out of a can) and topped with a poached egg and served on a brown butter emulsion. Brown butter emulsion people! You know I done died and gone to heaven! If ever there were a perfectly poached egg, this was it! Kill me now!

Maytag Blue Cheese Salad

We moved on to salads.  Big and I had mixed greens with a maple-Port vinaigrette, pears and Maytag blue cheese-black pepper ice cream and topped with a black walnut tuile. FYI blue cheese-black pepper ice cream is really super cold creamy-peppery blue cheese and served like a little frozen scoop of ice cream. It was crazy cool and unbelievably good! Diane and (Big's little brother) Don had the goat cheese watermelon salad which had a mulberry-shallot, white wine vinaigrette and hemp seed. Hemp seed you say? I think it was a trick salad to make you hungry so you would then order the brownie dessert. We likey and we laughed a lot!

Goat Cheese Watermelon Salad

On to the entrées! Big and Don both had the 44 hour brisket. It was a generous serving of American Kobe beef plated atop caramelized parsnips. The meat was unbelievably tender and surprisingly smoky. Thankfully there was no sauce to mask the perfectly cooked beef, just a drizzle of juniper parsley tear drops. Huh?

44 Hour Brisket

Diane tucked her tail and ordered the sunchoked chicken when the waitress, oops, server told her that “yes” the chef would be offended if he were asked to hold the Berkshire bacon (she has a pork allergy) from the freshwater bass entrée. YIKES! You can offend the waitress, damn I did it again server, but don’t even think about offending the chef. Big NO-NO! Anyhow, her chicken was served with sage gravy and “corn scented mashed potatoes” which is where I shamelessly stole my “corn spiked mashed potatoes” idea from. I honestly don’t know what a sunchoked chicken is but the dish was super yummy, so I say all chefs should think about choking their chickens in the sun.

Sunchoked Chicken

Fish lover that I am I went with the bass. It was served with roasted carrot gnocchi and a ginger-citrus-saffron sauce and perched on top of the most wonderful smoky tomato sauce that has ever crossed my lips. And yes, some of that just killed Berkshire hog bacon. I can’t even begin to describe my euphoria! I really think this may just be the best meal that I have ever, EV-VER eaten in my entire life.  When, I mean if I am ever on death row I want this dinner to be my last meal and I may just kill to get it.

Freshwater Bass
(Note: bad pic...it wasn't really that toxic looking color) 

     Of course there was a dessert menu and even after two and half hours of dining we were in no hurry to get to it because we didn’t want the night to end. Personally I just wanted to keep being poked full of Jonathan Justus’ just dead-foraged-smoked-infused-pig-shrooms-tomatoes and chicken-choked food, PMS-ing waitress server or not.

    Big and I shared the Pecan Wobble, which was milk chocolate caramel pecans, orange tuile, butterscotch custard, apple bourbon sauce, and rum and coke ice cream. Don and Diane had some strawberry masterpiece that I forgot to write down because I was in a food stooper. 
     We finally concluded the evening with coffee which was served in little individual French Presses. Nice touch! I can honestly say that I can’t wait for the next family reunion! 

Here it is in a nut shell…allow 3 hours for the meal...the food from start to finish was stellar and inovative...the drinks were cutting edge and cool...all menu items have a suggested wine paring, which you should follow...if fine dining at great restaurants are your bag you HAVE to go to Justus Drugstore...and they really should do something about that cranky waitress, umm I mean server.

This recipe for Grilled Eggplant Risotto was the only recipe of Jonathan Justus' that I could find. It wasn't on the menu at the time, but I think this guy could put his spin on a piece of shoe leather and make it palatable.  Click on the link to view it.

(With the exception of the photo directly above, all of the crappy pictures were taken by me with my cell phone)