The Christmas Crunch

Today is Christmas Eve Eve. It's the last "normal" day before the Christmas festivities begin. It's the last day to buy a tub of gingerbread cookie dough, a bag of holiday potpourri, one of those plastic candy-canes filled with Hershey's Kisses, or a tree skirt that doesn't smell like cat piss (Although, I'm currently drafting a petition to instate cat piss as the new "official" smell of Christmas. Watch out, cinnamon and pine!).

Yes, this is it--the last day to shop--unless, of course, you're one of those pitiful freaks who shops on Christmas Eve (Hey losers, don't you have a FAMILY? Get out of Wal-Mart!). So I wasn't too shocked to find a surging horde of human desperation and anguish when I ventured to Meijer to pick up dog and cat toys (even though they have no concept of time and certainly no awareness of holidays, it seems pretty cruel to leave them out of the gift-giving fun seeing as their entire lives revolve around making us feel cozy and loved), Meijer-brand Ultra Healing Therapy Lotion with Aloe, Diet Coke, Edy's Grape-flavored Fruit Bars, toilet paper, and Nestle Toll House Ultimates Turtle Cookies.

While shopping, I witnessed a grandma and grandpa being held at knife point by a rag-tag gang of camo-vest wearing philatelists over the last package of French's French Fried Onions, two puffy coat-clad ladies with jam-handed tots in tow tousling over a Christmas gourd painted to look like an old fashioned Santa, a three legged service dog wearing a jaunty felt elf hat healing the infirm with his magic saliva, and a partridge in a pear tree doing a spot-on impersonation of Jerry Seinfeld. No, but seriously, while I was waiting in line to buy my items, this one old lady yelled at this other old lady and the old lady that got yelled at got her feelings hurt! I don't know why people can't just be kind to one another, especially around the holidays. I mean, I know there are some people who just don't deserve kindness, but if you can't fake it at Christmas when can you fake it?

My main motivation for shopping on this, the last normal day to shop before Christmas, was to stockpile my house with delicious food items so that, should I get a hankerin' for something during Christmas Eve and Christmas when my supply dries up (due to Wal-Mart and Meijer closing so that their staff can enjoy the holiday...which is maybe a little more than they deserve if you ask me...but I digress), I can still stuff my face full of the goodies and treats to which I have become addicted. After I went to Meijer, I had to go to Wal-Mart, because Meijer didn't have the Nestle Toll House Limited Edition Oatmeal Scotchies that I had decided I could not celebrate Christmas without. Also, Meijer had the Edy's Grape-flavored Fruit Bars, but not the Peach-flavored ones. And for some inexplicable reason, Meijer doesn't carry the Chef Boyardee Mini ABC's & 123's with Meatballs, but Wal-Mart does. It's cool though, you guys, because in between Wal-Mart and Meijer is Starbucks where I went through the drive-thru and got a Grande Peppermint Mocha and paid for it using a gift card I won at a holiday party after a lively game of Family Feud.

Food is a hugely important part of Christmas, especially when food is your crack, as it is mine. Nothing strikes as much fear into the heart of a food junkie as the notion of Meijer and Wal-Mart being closed for a day and a half. What if I run out of Weight Watchers Smart Ones Anytime Selections Pepperoni Pizza Minis?! What if my tin of Planters Pumpkin Spice Almonds is only half-full?! If your Christmas can survive a catastrophe like that, well, you're a stronger person than I am.

I'm happy to say, I made it out of Wal-Mart and Meijer with all my coveted food items and only one less finger than I had going in. Now I'm going to settle in for a Christmas filled with love, family, presents, music, laughter, and of course, a steaming bowl of Hillshire Farm Lit'l Smokies Smoked Sausages. All I ask of you during this holiday season is to treat each other with kindness, remember the children, and for the love of St. Nick, keep your hands off my New York Brand The Original Garlic Bread Sticks.

Gathering Pressures: Part One

Cooking for large groups has never been my strong point. I have a tendency to bite off more than I can chew....pun intended. I break the cardinal rule of "never cook a new recipe for the first time for a dinner party" pretty much...every single time I cook for people. Past attempts at entertaining have led to very late meals, an inability to socialize with guests, wasted food from dishes I abandon at the last minute, and many, many tears.

I nearly had a nervous breakdown about mashed potatoes the first time I cooked Thanksgiving dinner. I made three appetizers, planned to make five or six side dishes, a special mulled spiked cider, turkey, rolls, the whole shebang.  Sounds great, right?  It would've been had I known to do ANYTHING in advance. I think I did a few things the night before but...yeah...not nearly as much as I should have. So when dinner was already an hour and a half late and I hadn't even started the mashed potatoes (and I mean wash, peel, chop, boil water, cook, mash, season, etc.), I broke down. I literally crumbled into a pathetic, apron-clad sobbing mess. Fortunately, my dad came to the rescue, consoled me, made me laugh and took over mashed potato duty. My mom and sister were already busy trying to finish the deviled eggs that were meant to be served two hours earlier but weren't because I didn't even have the eggs hard boiled before people showed up. Seriously. What was I thinking?!

Needless to say I learned a lot with that first dinner party (but not enough to not be an hour late to Thanksgiving this year because I completely underestimated the time it would take to make a Celery Root and Squash Gratin with Walnut-Thyme Struesel...for the first time. See? Told you I never learn). Oh, and did I mention I had never cooked for more than two people before that first Thanksgiving? I'm very ambitious...sometimes to my own detriment.  There were only eight people there but, for me, two to eight was a huge leap.  This was obviously my biggest concern when I look back at the menu I planned.  Who in their right mind would think making five or six complicated side dishes for eight people was a good idea? Me, apparently.

Subsequent dinner parties have ranged in success from "the timing was better" and "the meat wasn't too burned" to "I think everyone really enjoyed the risotto" and "that pan gravy was fantastic!"  I am by no means an accomplished dinner party thrower but my cooking and planning skills have certainly improved over the years.  I've even had fleeting moments of real kitchen confidence. So where does one semi-skilled, kinda experienced, sort of home cook go from here? To catering my sister-in-law's bridal shower of course!  Ain't no thang.

I was flattered and excited when my mother-in-law, Beth, asked me if I'd be interested in putting together an Italian-themed lunch for Megan's shower. It was scheduled for mid-July at a charming, old farmhouse that had been converted to a tea room in Canton, Michigan, which is only about 20 minutes away from where I live. I didn't know how many guests were expected but I estimated around 15 to 20.  That was a little daunting seeing as how I still had only cooked for a maximum of eight people since that chaotic first Thanksgiving. But, I had a little more than two months to plan and was up to the challenge, so I got to work.

Anyone that knows me or has ever gone out to dinner with me knows that I have a bit of a problem making decisions.  Not because I'm picky, but because I want to eat everything.  If I'm reading a menu and something strikes my fancy, you can be assured the next dish described will have me drooling even more.  Every consecutive menu item I read will have an exponential effect on my salivary glands until I eventually come full circle to that first thing that sounded so good and convince myself I should just leave because nothing I get is going to make me happy.

Of course I don't leave because at this point I'm so hungry that the idea of leaving is equivalent to torture...plus it would be rude...and probably highly inconvenient.  What if I rode with someone else to the restaurant? They probably don't want to leave so I'm stuck having to sit in the car until they're finished and then have to deal with the disapproving looks and silent questions of my mental stability on the shame-filled ride home. Umm...no thanks. So I mop up my puddle of drool with my crisp folded napkin and order. And, if I'm out to eat with Jason and my sister, I order, second guess my decision, convince Jason to hunt down the waitress, and change my order to what my sister ordered. And, if we're eating at Gratzi in Ann Arbor and I wait too long to decide to change my order and hunt down the waitress, they'll bring me both meals I ordered and I'll feel really stupid.

You're probably wondering where all of this is going. Well...if I have this much trouble deciding what I want to order at a restaurant, imagine my dismay at choosing recipes to form a cohesive and delicious menu for a very important event for a very special person with the only factor narrowing my focus being Italian. Oh, and with some sort of vegetarian option. Before long I was knee deep in recipe ideas and discarded menus I was hanging on to "just in case" and I realized I had to have some other constraints. No sooner did the wish form than the constraints came raining down from the catering constraint rain cloud. As plans have a tendency of doing, our bridal shower plans changed...completely.

You see, Megan and her now husband, John, live in Arizona. The wedding and reception took place in Arizona at a beautiful church and country club with picturesque mountain views. In fact most of the wedding events took place in Arizona but Megan still wanted to travel back to her home state of Michigan to make it easier for friends and family to take part in some of the wedding traditions such as dress shopping, bridal showers, etc. And she did just that. We shopped for her gown, cried when we saw her in it, laughed at the ridiculous bridesmaid dresses we tried on and exuded glamorous confidence in the bridesmaid dress she chose. They were lovely visits. Unfortunately, Megan's planned trek to Michigan in July for her shower had to be canceled, but for good reason.  She was starting a new job!  We still had a wonderful bridal shower in Michigan.  But it had to be planned in two weeks, not two months, which was definitely not enough time to put together the event we were planning. Not to worry though.  I was about to take on a much greater challenge: a bridal shower...in Arizona.

There is way too much to this experience to squeeze it all into one post, so you will be reading the rest of the story in one or two more (depending on how carried away I get). But I will leave you with a description of my newly designed challenge complete with constraints galore.  In a nutshell:

Plan an Italian vegetarian dinner menu (the shower was now planned for 6:30) for 30 people, cook everything in your sister-in-law's kitchen (which you've never seen) with little to no knowledge of the kitchen equipment available and transfer everything to the apartment complex clubhouse where the shower will be held.  Once at the clubhouse, you will have access to a fridge and a sink but there will be no oven or microwave...aka you better make sure the food you make tastes good at room temperature or cold because there's no way you're reheating it (we had already decided against chafing dishes and sterno in an effort to save a little money).

Suddenly, the dinner with too many possibilities had rapidly become Dinner: Impossible and I needed to start channeling my inner Robert Irvine.  Robert would never let a challenge get the best of him. He would pick up a cast iron skillet with those bulging arms of his and cook an 18-course meal for 100 people over an open fire from ingredients foraged from the surrounding area like it was just another day at the office. Certainly, I could handle cooking in someone else's kitchen.

And handle it I did, although there were definitely moments of sheer panic. To calm myself I just closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and pretended Robert was giving me a good old-fashioned "keep your chin up kiddo" hug that chefs are always giving each other. Yeah, when chefs aren't cooking they're hugging. I know. It was news to me too. But, it's kind of sweet don't you think?

The rush of the kitchen dies down and every cook drops his or her spatula and embraces their neighbor for a nice 5-minute hug and, if their lucky, maybe even an Eskimo kiss or two. Those imaginary hugs from Robert are what kept me going in the face of catering terror. In my mind I was being enveloped by an over-sized Yorkshire pudding...hard and crusty on the outside...warm, gooey and British on the inside. I realize this may seem a little unorthodox but every chef has a way of dealing with the inevitable pressures and challenges of cooking. Being hugged by a humungous savory baked good to which I give human characteristics just works for me ok? Don't judge.

The Beginning of a Beautiful Food Blog

A few weeks ago, during one of our three-hour long phone chats, my sister suggested that we write a food blog together. I had been crying for most of the conversation because I feel that my life is in shambles. I live with my parents, I'm kind of fat, I'm single, and even though I have a good job as a nurse, I'm stressed out a lot, and basically I just feel kind of lost. I feel like I'm at a crossroads. Or maybe I'm more like at the bottom of a mountain that I have to climb up, or poised to cross one of those rickety old-timey bridges that connect one incredibly steep cliff to another incredibly steep cliff. Basically, I'm at a turning point. Or maybe I'm like a year away from a turning point. But I know something needs to change, so when Gina mentioned writing a food blog together, I threw a book at the wall and loudly exclaimed, "Hell yes!!" Ok, ok. I actually cried for another half an hour and then said, "Maybe...oh God, I don't know." But after thinking about it for a while, I decided that yes, a food blog is a good thing for me to throw myself into, if only because it gives me a great excuse to eat a shit-ton of delicious food.

About a week later, Gina and I met up to discuss the blog. We needed to go over design elements, theme, etc. Gina had suggested that we meet at B.D.'s Mongolian Barbeque because they have free wi-fi. For those of you who may not know, Mongolian BBQ is a chain restaurant in our part of the country that requires patrons to shove as many uncooked meats and vegetables as possible into a small bowl and then take it up to a very large circular grill, where a couple of semi-hip looking guys (some with dreadlocks!) cook it and then hand your creation back to you. You then take it back to your table, where while you were gone your server magically deposited a little canister of tortillas and a squat bowl of rice. I kind of hate Mongolian BBQ. Gina does too. What I hate about it is that my creations always taste the same, maybe because I always choose the same items (sausage, chicken, shrimp, pea pods, noodles and peanut sauce)...but maybe because it's just a bad restaurant. Also, I think the whole part where you stand and wait for the guys to cook your food is awkward. I always wonder, what are they thinking about me? Do they think I'm good looking? Are they laughing at me on the inside because I filled my sauce cup too full? Should I have only filled it half full? Should I have chosen a sauce that makes me seem more mysterious? What do they think of my sausage/chicken/shrimp combo? Does it make them think I'm from out of town? Do they think I was raised on the bayou? Or maybe they just think I like savory meats and shellfish? Should I have chosen beef so they would think I'm adventurous, like the kind of girl who would rock climb and white water raft? It's too much pressure having to worry about the grill guys and what they're thinking about. And it's not like you're just standing up there for a minute or two--it takes the guys a while to cook the food, maybe because they want to make sure the meats are fully cooked so that no one gets food poisoning...but maybe because Mongolian BBQ is just a bad restaurant.

After we got done eating, I told Gina that it was pointless for us to have gone to Mongolian BBQ to eat in the first place because I was uncomfortable using the wi-fi there (no one else had a laptop! It'd be like using your laptop at Chili's--weird). So we decided to walk to a nearby super-hip independent coffee shop called Bean and Leaf. When we got there, I breathed a huge sigh of relief because many of the artsy-looking patrons were using laptops. The guy behind the counter was even more hip and jerky-looking than one of the grill guys at Mongolian. He was kind of short, with curly hair and a fitted t-shirt that had some snarky saying on it that I forgot to read. I knew he was judging me. I could tell that he could tell just by looking at me that sometimes I throw away my empty bottles of pop instead of recycling. But that's ok because he could tell that I could tell just by looking at him that sometimes he smokes in bed. Because Gina was with me, I had more confidence than usual and I wanted to show off, so I asked to see the tea list. Actually, I think Gina may have told him I wanted to see the tea list. But the point is, I looked at the tea list rather than just ordering some generic thing off the main menu. Looking at the tea list, I knew I was inviting him to talk to me about the various specialty teas they carry and possibly up-sell me. I knowingly and willingly ventured into very dangerous territory under the guise of being an easy-going tea-lover who just wanted to drink the most delicious drink possible on a Wednesday night. We all know that if I truly wanted to drink the most delicious drink possible, I should've gone to Leo's Coney Island and gotten a milkshake, but hey, progress is progress. I think I wound up with peppermint tea and Gina got jasmine pearls.

We then spent a glorious, if somewhat stress-filled, night agonizing over fonts and other design elements for our new blogger blog--just like they did in pioneer times! We didn't get it all figured out that night, but I did give Gina (and myself) an assignment for the first blog post. I said, "Write about why you wanted to start this food blog." For me, there is no one reason I wanted to be an author on Stock Therapy. I've always had a love/hate relationship with food. I love it because it's delicious, but I hate it because it makes me fat. I want to explore my relationship with food, I want to make peace with food, I want to learn to be a better cook, I want to write more, I want to improve my life, I want to share something with my sister. These are just a few of my reasons for getting involved in this project. I hope you'll come along on this journey with us. I promise if you do you'll feel the way you feel after finishing a great meal--full, satisfied, and a little bit ashamed of yourself.

For the Love of Food

This post marks my first as a food blogger. Yep. I am now a food blogger. You may be thinking, you can just call yourself a food blogger? Well, I asked myself that same question when this idea popped into my head while I was scrubbing cooked on, unidentifiable sauce splatter off of someone else's stove listening to a food podcast with a host that possesses a much greater wealth of food and cooking knowledge than I do.

Why in the world would I think that I can write about food and cooking? I clean houses for a living! ...and the common areas in four apartment complexes. My husband, Jason, would be very upset if I forgot to mention the apartment complexes. Obviously he thinks that fact elevates our status as a professional cleaning couple. It's kind of like telling someone you work at McDonald's but forgetting to mention that you're in charge of the fryer, a job I'm sure they don't just hand out to anyone. Not that there's anything wrong with working at McDonald's. I'm the last person that will judge someone for how they make their living and the first to admit that a juicy Quarter Pounder can sure hit the spot sometimes. And, I stress the word sometimes. I love fast food on occasion. I'm just not so keen on type 2 diabetes and cancer.

Jason and I may have a problem with our professional self-esteem but, as with any job you do because you have to, I guess it's commendable that we try to look on the bright side. It only becomes a problem when we convince ourselves that we can't do anything else. And when I say we I mean me. I am notorious for coming up with "fantastic ideas that will absolutely solve my problem of figuring out what I'm going to do with my life and bring me a lifetime of happiness." Some ideas have been so good that I actually start pursuing them and halfway finish them before I realize I'm fooling myself! Wow. I sound very cynical. I'm really not. But, I could write an entire post just listing the ideas and paths I've pursued (which I'll most likely do in the near future). And that's ok. This penchant for ideas is just something I need to recognize and be aware of so I don't waste too much time on the really idiotic ones. I mean, I'm gettin' up there, you know? At 32, I have to be a bit more choosy.

So, you can understand my hesitation when the idea of writing a food blog occurred to me. I went through my normal phases of extreme excitement at the thought of a new idea and extreme doubt in myself at the thought of all the past failures. Then I approached it more rationally and began to work through a list of pros and cons.

Pro: I absolutely love food, cooking and everything related to the subject.  It's all I think about.

Con: I don't have any formal training or area of expertise from which to speak on the matter and sometimes the meals I cook taste shitty.

Pro: My sister just bought me a membership to Top Chef University, an online cooking school with lessons taught by former cheftestants of the show!  What better way to chronicle my cooking adventures than with a food blog?

Con: I don't know if I can write well enough to keep anyone interested in reading what I write. 

Pro: I don't really care if anyone reads my food blog...kind of. I hope they do, but if they don't, I'll still enjoy writing it and that's what really matters. I mean, the number of hits you get doesn't directly relate to your self-worth or anything. Oh God, please, please, please read this blog! I'll die if you don't.

Pro: I can write this blog with my sister! She's already a seasoned blogger and a fantastic writer and I've been wanting to do some kind of a project with her for ages. She's got the time, I've got the time, and she's much more disciplined than I am so she'll keep me on track and accountable (she's the reason I'm writing this post right now), which in turn will make me more productive in my daily life.

Pro: I clean up in the food and drink categories on Jeopardy. For example, Alex Trebek might read, "This enzyme, found in a calves' stomach, is essential in their digestion and the art of cheesemaking."  Then I would scream, "What is rennet, Alex?!  What is rennet?!!" And...I would be right.

Pro: A food blog would be the answer to every problem in my life and set me on the path to a lifetime of happiness.

I have to be honest with you. I decided I was going to write this blog as soon as I had the idea. All this decision-making talk is a sham. I just wanted you to think that I thought things through to give me more credibility. But who am I kidding? This idea was a winner from the moment it was formed...and I've never said that before.

Seriously though, I've never been more excited to meet my sister at B.D.'s Mongolian BBQ to discuss the creation of this wonderful project and eat some food while using their free WiFi. Otherwise, I would never be excited to meet at Mongolian BBQ, because it's gross. I don't even know what I was thinking when I suggested it. As soon as I uttered the words, "Mongolian BBQ has free WiFi. Why don't we meet there?" my stomach dropped and I became inexplicably sad. Sure, it's cheap and they happened to have $1 domestic drafts the day we went. It also has the potential to be healthy. But, my Miller Lite was watery and my plate was filled with an vast assortment of meats and two pea pods because I have no self control and want to get the most out of my one trip to fill my bowl.  I refuse to go multiple times. It's just too much work. And, with my luck, I'll adjust the contents of my first bowl thinking I'm going to be concocting multiple bowls but be too full and depressed after the first bowl to carry out my plan. From the time we sat down at our table to just before our trip the (overheated) soup and (wet lettuce) salad bar (what is it with wet lettuce?!), I sensed an awkward tension between Liz and I. I'm sure the excitement of starting the blog had something to with it but it was soon revealed that we both greatly dislike Mongolian BBQ and had to laugh at the fact that we ended up at one on the very night we were meeting to start a food blog. Oh the irony. 

With the tension sizzling away on that big round grill of theirs, we ate our meals and discussed blog ideas with ease. We did not utilize the free WiFi though and promptly fled to a comfy, laptop-laden independent coffee shop to set up our Blogger account and start designing. The chairs at the high-top table we chose were so uncomfortable they cut off circulation to our legs. But the tea was tasty and the creativity was flowing. A mere two and a half hours later we emerged with a partially designed blog site and a topic for our first post. A mere month and half later...here it is!

Following updates of my food life will be posted much more frequently though, I promise. My hope for this blog is to entertain, inspire and provide you with useful tips and food world news while I chronicle my own journey to becoming a better cook.  There is no food-related subject that does not interest me.  So be prepared to read about anything from nutrition and sustainability to food science, macaroni and cheese and my love of hot dogs.  I am really thrilled to be sharing this project with my sister and can't wait to see where it takes us.  Wherever we end up...we won't be hungry, that's for sure.