Menu Planning the Day After We're Not Going to the Superbowl
I had pretty much given up on the game last night at half time, though I got all happy when in early in the third quarter the Steelers looked like they were going to make an exciting comeback, and we got a touchdown, blah blah blah, but then, well, they didn't. So that was pretty wearing, and I had to knit a lot to get over it (several rows on "Cecily of York").
Really, for our little house, one of the worst effects of Not Going to the Superbowl is that now there will be no more Steelers Thumbprints over at the Giant Eagle bakery. The child and I quite enjoy supporting the local team by eating cookies. We're unclear on the exact workings of this, though we figure it's some sort of harmless magic spell. The Steelers don't receive the $3.00 we spend on the cookies. The Steelers don't see us eat the cookies. Hell, nobody sees us eat the cookies. But the cookies are important. We know this because that must be why the Giant Eagle Bakery is selling them.
Well, no more, this year. (No, no, don't bother to mention, in the comment section, that we could buy other thumbprints. No, we couldn't. They're not on our usual heart-healthy menu. We eat them ONLY in support of the Steelers.)
This week, we've got a couple of literary nights to celebrate, necessitating special foods.
Tomorrow, January 25, is Robbie Burns day, for instance. Normally, we'd be having haggis, but gee, darn, the last I bought (it was in a can!) got confiscated at the border, if you'll remember (scroll down to July 20). And I didn't get around to ordering another, cause, well, I either forgot or I didn't remember on purpose. And this is a Sad, Sad Thing, cause Sam does love his haggis. Also, Maggie the cat, girl of the streets, loves her haggis. And neither is getting any.
Instead, we're having Edinburgh Salmon. I'm poaching salmon in white wine (yes, without alcohol, those of you who notice these things), shallots, and mushrooms. I guess, since we're having no haggis, we won't be reading the haggis poem. Maybe we'll read the mouse poem instead, to solace Maggie, since she'll be missing the best cat food in the entire world, which is what she tells us haggis is.
Then on Friday, it's Lewis Carroll's birthday, and we can't miss that, either. Now since it's a Friday, we can't have toad-in-the-hole, which otherwise would be a nice English dinner such as we enjoy around here.*
So instead we're having Parsley Pie. This is basically a quiche-like dish, only it has no bacon or cheese in it -- just parsley, tarragon, and watercress.** We don't think it's English; we don't know where it comes from. But we're having it in honor of Lewis Carroll, cause we think the name is amusing. If Alice Liddell came to our house, we wouldn't hesitate to serve her parsley pie. Ok, well, assuming she wasn't like, you know, dead.
_________________________
*Well, we COULD have meat on Friday, if we performed acts of charity. But at the moment, we're not feeling quite that large, on account of that game last night. Maybe by then we'll be feeling all charitable. Or not.
**Alert readers will notice that this can't possibly be heart-healthy, on account of quiche is made with a bunch of cream and eggs. Shut up. (See note above.)
Really, for our little house, one of the worst effects of Not Going to the Superbowl is that now there will be no more Steelers Thumbprints over at the Giant Eagle bakery. The child and I quite enjoy supporting the local team by eating cookies. We're unclear on the exact workings of this, though we figure it's some sort of harmless magic spell. The Steelers don't receive the $3.00 we spend on the cookies. The Steelers don't see us eat the cookies. Hell, nobody sees us eat the cookies. But the cookies are important. We know this because that must be why the Giant Eagle Bakery is selling them.
Well, no more, this year. (No, no, don't bother to mention, in the comment section, that we could buy other thumbprints. No, we couldn't. They're not on our usual heart-healthy menu. We eat them ONLY in support of the Steelers.)
This week, we've got a couple of literary nights to celebrate, necessitating special foods.
Tomorrow, January 25, is Robbie Burns day, for instance. Normally, we'd be having haggis, but gee, darn, the last I bought (it was in a can!) got confiscated at the border, if you'll remember (scroll down to July 20). And I didn't get around to ordering another, cause, well, I either forgot or I didn't remember on purpose. And this is a Sad, Sad Thing, cause Sam does love his haggis. Also, Maggie the cat, girl of the streets, loves her haggis. And neither is getting any.
Instead, we're having Edinburgh Salmon. I'm poaching salmon in white wine (yes, without alcohol, those of you who notice these things), shallots, and mushrooms. I guess, since we're having no haggis, we won't be reading the haggis poem. Maybe we'll read the mouse poem instead, to solace Maggie, since she'll be missing the best cat food in the entire world, which is what she tells us haggis is.
Then on Friday, it's Lewis Carroll's birthday, and we can't miss that, either. Now since it's a Friday, we can't have toad-in-the-hole, which otherwise would be a nice English dinner such as we enjoy around here.*
So instead we're having Parsley Pie. This is basically a quiche-like dish, only it has no bacon or cheese in it -- just parsley, tarragon, and watercress.** We don't think it's English; we don't know where it comes from. But we're having it in honor of Lewis Carroll, cause we think the name is amusing. If Alice Liddell came to our house, we wouldn't hesitate to serve her parsley pie. Ok, well, assuming she wasn't like, you know, dead.
_________________________
*Well, we COULD have meat on Friday, if we performed acts of charity. But at the moment, we're not feeling quite that large, on account of that game last night. Maybe by then we'll be feeling all charitable. Or not.
**Alert readers will notice that this can't possibly be heart-healthy, on account of quiche is made with a bunch of cream and eggs. Shut up. (See note above.)
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