Haute cuisine and home cooking

George W. and Condi never did show up at lunch today, though I heard the restaurant was a favorite of theirs. Rise is a small restaurant in North Dallas, very French. They specialize in  individual souffles--for your main course such things as cheese, smoked salmon, lobster (cooked in the lobster shell) and several orthers, too many to remember. For dessert, chocolate, vanilla, pumpkin, strawberry, etc. Each comes out perfectly puffed and browned. How do they do that? You think just one would fall flat! Jeannie and Betty split the Salad Nicoise--no canned tuna here, it was seared ahi. I had a Parisian jambon sandwich--translates to a delicious ham sandwich on a baguette with Gruyere, cornichons, and butter--no mayo, no mustard. They both had pumpkin souffles for dessert, and I got a bite of each--delicious. My mom used to make a spinach souffle that I loved but that is still a bitter topic with my brother. Back to Rise, it's lovely  with old-world decor and yet a casual, comfortable place. I enjoyed it thoroughly. And it was fun to visit with Betty and Jeannie--I see Betty once a week but Jeannie has been so busy I haven't seen her in a while.
From the sublime to--well, maybe not ridiculous, but home cooking. I came home and started on food for my cocktail open house Friday night. While I cooked, PBS had a Christmas music special that was glorious. Featured Natalie Cole, the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, and David McCullough telling the story of the song, "I'll be Home for Christmas." That choir is simply magnificent.
Of course it was a good thing I started on the food--discovered I don't have enough veggies, and I don't have the can of canellini beans I need for one dip. Besides Jordan has  been calling me all day with items to add to my shopping list, particularly to feed little mouths. There will be ten or twelve children. When my kids were young I thought of this as strictly an adult party--the kids either disappeared into their bedrooms or slept through the whole thing. Must be the change that comes with being a grandmother--it is now definitely a kid-friendly party, although they won't like much of my menu (I'm afraid Jordan and Christian won't either--oh, dear!). I'd tell the menu, but I don't want to give it away. Read on Saturday. The desserts are all baked and in the freezer, ready to come out tomorrow.
And speaking of food, I'm watching Guy Fiery's show about diners, drive-ins, and dives. Somebody is baking three huge meatloaves. If there's a comfort food I love, that's it. This cook slices them (thick slices) and then browns quickly on the griddle, serves with gravy. Must find out where that place is! I keep thinking my friends at the Star Cafe should write to Fiery about their restaurant.

Poisoned Press Webcon, tuna, Deborah Crombie

Today was my last stay-at-home, get rid of this cold and lethargy day, and since I felt a bit of cabin fever, I know it's over. I was supposed to go to a baby shower this morning but didn't want to take germs as a present to the mom-to-be. Today Poisoned Pen Bookstore/Press sponsored an all-day webcon on mysteries--live sessions with authors speaking, taped sessions, and print text to be read. I had signed up months ago and spent much of the morning cruising the web site. I didn't do too well with the live sessions--in one I watched the speaker talked too fast and had absolutely no camera presence. But I thoroughly enjoyed the text presentations on everything from Why Write Cozies to the Advantages and Disadvantages of Writing Historicals. There was a coffee shop discussion site, but I didn't have the right equipment on my computer for that. So the experience was a six-of-one and half-a-dozen of the other for me. This afternoon I finished the novel I was reading, napped, did a bit of office work, and was generally lazy. It was a glorious day today--warm, sunny, a perfect fall day. I know my brother thinks I spend too much time indoors, and today he was right. I should have been outside enjoying the weather. But I had given myself permission to do what I wanted today. My neighbors, Jay and Susan, walked across the street to the school carnival, and I laughed at them. When I had little children and had to go to those carnivals, I dreaded them. Couldn't imagine anyone without children going just for enjoyment, but they found it colorful and full of activity.
A whle ago I read in a food book about Pisces tuna, canned in Coos Bay, Oregon, by a small fishery where the dolphins swim alongside their boats but are never caught. Pisces offers several products, like salmon, smoked salmon, etc., but I wanted the albacore tuna packed in water. The gentleman at the fishery assured me their fish is never frozen, never cooked before it goes into the can, and then it is cooked once. It's much more expensive than Chicken of the Sea albacore but I eat a lot of tuna and thought it well worth it. Sue and I split a case, and I had some for the first time tonight. What I tasted plain was mild and good, not at all fishy, almost like chicken. Considered all kinds of tuna recipes but ended up with creamed tuna, with green peas and a lot of white wine in the sauce, along with just a bit of cheddar. Good but a little rich. Of course a 7 oz. can made enough for three people. My friend Charles has been in the hospital but is due out Monday, and I told him I'd bring some food--he just might get creamed tuna, which is a comfort food.
After I finished the novel this afternoon, I told myself I would not start another and would, instead, get serious about rewriting my own novel. But the new Deborah Crombie novel I got last night was like a siren call, so I started Necessary as Blood. One of the things about series that you get hooked on is that you mentally live in the world of the characters--so, tonight, it was comforting to be back in the world of Gemma James and Duncan Kincaid. I'm in for a happy read, but, yes, I'll get back to the novel.
I also spent time today planning my annual Christmas party. I've been dickering with Jamie about Saturday vs. Sunday and have finally decided on a date. I threatened to cancel it, since my budget is now limited, but everyone I talked to said they didn't care what they ate, they just wanted to visit. Some said that's the only time once a year that they see some people. So I'm forging ahead.

Christmas is upon us

Well, now I'm a dumpster diver. Jeannie just called to say there was an ad for the TCU Press Annual Autograph Extravaganza in the paper this morning. Like many newspaper readers, I'm ad-blind and didn't see it. So I just put on a jacket and went out to the recyle cart, where fortunately the paper was on top and I found it easily. It's a quarter page ad and looks great. Thanks, Melinda.
I wish I felt more festive tonight. My house is all decorated--Jordan came and helped me put lights on the two artificial trees that stand sentinel at the front door and on the mantel. And she passed approval on the decorating that Maddie and I had done. I notice tonight that Jay and Susan have put white lights on their bird feeder and the fence between our houses in the back, where we are quite close to one another. It looks festive but startles me a bit every time I walk through the kitchen.
I've had a lazy day, still some catching up from the weekend, lots of emails (including a negative review crisis), a good nap, and finishing the proofing and correcting of the edited version of my cookbook. Got it off in the e-mail tonight, which makes me feel great. But I've had a scratchy throat and am determined it will not progress beyond that. Haven't done my yoga in days and am feeling guilty. I will also say I'm tired of shepherd's pie--it's really good, but enough is enough. I fixed it Wednesday night, and I cannot tell you how many meals I've had of it since. I think I won't even freeze it--will just, as my mother used to scold, pitch it.
This week will be hectic--unfortunately I scheduled two early morning doctors' appts and one early meeting with my boss. Plus our annual TCU Press Autograph Extravaganza is this Friday and my annual tree trimming party (no tree, as usual) is Saturday. Not good scheduling on my part. Tomorrow I have to stay home and wait for the U-Verse installer, but sometime I have to get to the grocery and the drugstore and do some cooking so I don't have it all to do on Saturday and find myself exhausted. (Actually, my freezer is full of baked goods and sausage balls and a cheeseball, so I'm ahead of the game--but I worry a lot!) Talk about a stressful holiday season, but I figure by December 7 it will all be over. I can lesiurely wrap the few remaining packages (I sent most of the kids' home with them). Meantime, it's good to have a lazy day.
I have a needy cat tonight--he will not get off my desk, where he insists on perching right next to me. For a while, we had a battle of the wills because he curled up on the page of editorial corrections I was trying to work from. He wants to rub noses all the time. Ah, a little fresh food and he went on his way.

In a rosy glow

I'm in a rosy glow of happiness tonight, because my annual Tree Trimming party was lovely. About 60 people, who lingered and talked. It's fun to have people meet at my house, because they always discover connections--and some come to me with the curous question, "How do you know so and so?" I thought I would have too much food, but it was just about right--brie with an apricot/red pepper topping disappeared, as did queso and almost but not quite every bit of a hot corn dip and a caviar spread. I've a few meatballs left, about half a cheeseball, and some artichoke dip. And a very few desserts. Everyone seemed to feel festive, and although I usually don't get to visit much, I did visit with a few people. Every year there are one or two new people, and that makes it fun. A good friend called this morning to say she couldn't be here and said sadly, "It's the first one I've missed in 42 years." Well, she exaggerates a bit.
My family was here: four of my children (well, actually two I raised and two who married into the clan but they are all my children), three of my seven grandchildren, my brother and sister-in-law, my niece and her three-month-old (dressed up in a plaid dress, she looked like a porcelain doll!) and my nephew and his wife and their baby, Kate, who is the age of of Jacob. There were other children--neighbors--and the playroom was busy and happy, though Jacob spent a lot of time plowing through the crowd, favoring people with his grins, and running his truck into their feet. By the time he went home, he was staggering with exhaustion, and when I asked for a goodnight kiss, he shook his head to say "no."
Now it's almost 9:30. The kitchen is clean, the dishes are clean and waiting to be put away in the morning, the cat has been released from captivity in the office bathroom, and I'm having a glass of wine and some of the food I didn't eat during the party. I'll read a little and then nod off, because tomorrow is a working day.
And it's also another cooking day. Tuesday night I'm having the neighbors in for a VERY casual supper to meet Sue's parents, who live in Canada but always summer in Rockport. There'll be eight adults and four kids, I think, and I've enough appetizers and desserts left over. I'll make a big Mexican casserole and a bean salad, and Jay next door said he'd bring guacamole. After that, I'm going to rest on my laurels until we go to Houston.

Lessons from Calvin Trillin

Well, Calvin Trillin stumped me. I'm reading his Messages from My Father, a charming book. But I came across the phrase "Schachtmanite deviation." Schachtman is not in my dictionary, let alone Schachtmanite. Google was not a lot more helpful--none of the sites that came up referred directly to it. I gathered--or guessed--that it has to do with communistic liberal leanings among some European immigrants in the early 20th century. Beyond that I'm stumped. Anybody know? I'm hoping Jim Lee will read this and tell me; and maybe I'll email Fred Erisman and ask him. Both of them always know that odd bit of information.
Trillin is a graceful writer. In this slim book, he tells the story of his father--and his relationship with his father--in just over a hundred pages. My own father was a pretty interesting and unusual man, but I doubt that I could write more than five pages about him that might hold anyone's attention. I read Trillin's book almost in one sitting.
Two favorite stories: Trillin once gave a speech entitled "Making Chopped Liver with Miracle Whip." Afterward, someone came up to him and said the title was an interesting metaphor. He replied that it wasn't a metaphor; that's how his mother made chopped liver. He supposed she thought schmaltz (rendered chicken fat) was declasse. (Well, Miracle Whip does less damage to your system than schmalz or so I would presume.) His father had been brought to this country as a very young child and had only one memory of Russia--of having his foot stuck in the mud. When Trillin's mother first began to suggest a trip to Europe his father, "speaking as one who had once got his foot stuck in the mud in Russia, said 'I've been.'"
As I predicted, I'm ready for Christmas way ahead of time. My party is tomorrow--everything is cooked that can be done ahead of time. Dishes are on the table with little pieces of paper telling what goes in each. I may have told this story before, but Jordan does the same thing, which once led Christian to say, "You and your mother have a screw loose." But he said it with affection.
But that's why I spent the afternoon reading Calvin Trillin and think now I'll start another of the many books Mary Lu has loaned me. It's bitter cold tonight--the chill factor to be down to 2 degrees, so Scooby is inside earlier than usual. The wine is out of my car, so it won't freeze, and the heat is turned up just a bit. I'll drip the faucets outside and leave the doors to the kitchen sink open. Tomorrow of course, this being Texas, it will be into the fifties and by Tuesday into the sixties.
A week from today we leave for Houston and Alter Family Christmas. Time flies, as they say--and, yeah, I'm having fun.

Egg-less meals and Christmas trees

My egg-less meal turned out to be just fine and my guest less allergic than I had thought. He said eggs cooked into things don't seem to bother him, but since he mentioned mayonnaise I thought it was best not to use egg nooodles. Here's how I amended the recipe.
I cooked a cup of raw rice in 2-1/2 cups chicken bouillion with a pat of butter and put that in the bottom of a 9x13 casserole. Then I cooked 16 oz. chopped broccoli and layered it next. I baked five chicken breast halves--I always put them in a roasting pan, sprinkle salt and pepper and sliced onion rings, cover the whole thing with foil, and bake at 350 for about an hour. Cubed, the chicken made the next layer. The sauce consisted of 8 oz. Velveeta, 1 can cream of mushroom soup, and 1/2 cup white wine--cooked in a double boiler until smooth and poured evenly over the layers. Then I topped it with grated Parmigiano Reggio and baked for 1/2 hour at 350. It was really good if I do say so. And my guests liked it.
I planned this meeting for home because it was a more relaxed and congenial atmosphere, we could all hear each other without worrying about restaurant noise, and we could linger at the table--which we did. Plus my guests were so pleased to come into a warm house, brightly decorated for Christmas and with a fire in the fireplace, on a cold and wintry day. As they left, I said I thought it worked out better than a restaurant, and one said, "Yeah, and we ate a lot better."
For years I used to have a tree trimming party. It's an old tradition that goes back to the fact that trimming the tree in my family was no fun. We all went to buy it, my father and brother put up the lights and disappeared, and mom and I decorated. It was not the festive togetherness time that I thought putting up a tree should be. So when I had my own home I decided to make it fesetive--and guests did pretty much decorate the tree. But as my kids married and moved away the party became Judy Alter's almost-annual sometimes-there's-a-tree party. And there never was a tree because Christmas Day always found me in someone else's home. But this year I have a live tree! Okay, it's only two feet tall, and it came pre-decorated from Harry & David--with Santas with plaid trim and tiny reindeer and plaid-wrapped packages--appropriate for my year of Scotland. It's really cute. It's also pre-decorated with lights, but I have it on the coffee table and may forget the lights rather than tape an extensio cord down--haven't decided that yet.
After Christmas, the tree can be planted, so I planned to give it to a friend who has a huge and beautiful garden. Jordan said, "Oh, good, we can plant it." My worries about that are that they aren't gardeners and they won't live in their current house forever. The gardening friend was here today when I unwrapped it, and I kept referring to it as her tree. We'll see.

A lesson in allergies, parties, Santa, and a dog's close call

I'm having a business lunch at my houses tomorrow--originally six people, but now only five can make it. I decided to do this at home instead of a restaurant for two reasons--I figure it's easier on the press budget, and we can talk more easily and not feel pressured to "turn the table" the minute we finished. I decided on a beef noodle casserole that my family has always loved--oops, Melinda, production manager, is coming, and she doesn't eat red meat. So chicken it would be--I found a recipe that I'd never tried but sounded good. The out-of-town important person visiting wrote that it was kind of me to offer to cook but I should know that he had a severe allergy to eggs, including mayonnaise. Oops again--the recipe had mayonnaise. So I found another recipe. I was telling Jordan last night she could expect leftovers and reciting the ingredients when I said noodles, and she said, 'You know I can't eat that on my diet," and I said, "Oops. They're egg noodles." So I went to the store this morning looking for whole wheat noodles. None. I read the label on garden twists--no eggs, but a little box that said "allergy information" and warned that this product contains wheat and was cooked in a facility that uses egg products. Shades of my mother, who used to grind her own hamburger, because she knew butchers used the same grinders on pork and beef. She liked her beef rare but not her pork. Egg residue, I figured, could linger in equipment and this sounds like a severe allergy--the kind that causes immediate anaphylactic shock or whatever. So I'm using rice in the casserole. At this point, I've got the rice and chopped broccoli in the casserole dish--and it's full! No room for the chicken and sauce. Once again, I have to rethink--but I'm taking time off from it.
Jamie and Mel's dessert party last night was lovely and creative--they had cards with recipes for various champagne drinks and all the makings lined up; one called for stout and champagne in equal parts, which sounded pretty wild to me. I stuck to chardonnay. For dessert, they had a decadent cake, a chocolate bundt cake, cream puffs, cheesecake squares--all delish, as Megan would say.
The Santa Claus trip wasn't quite so satisfactory. Jacob, like most babies his age, wanted nothing to do with that old man with the white beard, cried piteously and held out his arms to be rescued. A priceless picture resulted from his discomfort, poor darling. But we all enjoyed a huge breakfast, and he perked up enough to mug for the camera.
Before I got back to my chicken casserole, my neighbors were at the door. Truth be told, they woke me from a sound nap, so I was a little stunned by what they said. Yesterday they told me they'd had rats in the bird feeder and had put out poison. "Can Scooby get it?" I asked. "Aboslutely not," Jay said. Today they said they were fairly sure he'd gotten a small piece within the hour--they'd been watching--so they were taking him to the vet ER. I was so stunned I just watched them go. They called and reported, but Scooby didn' get home for about 4 hours--the vet made him vomit and sure enough, there was the rat poison. So they gave him vitamin K, and I have to give him a pill twice a day for two or three weeks. But he shows no ill effects and is going to be fine. Jay and Susan are much more upset than I am--because I was still sort of stunned by the whole thing.
Tonight my casserole is done, greens for a salad are washed, all is ready. And my dog is healthy and happy.