Leftover Cravings...

There is half an apple pie left from Thanksgiving dinner. And I’m craving it. The whole thing. Unfortunately, I’m at my house in Bloomfield and the pie is at Greg’s house in Regent Square. I knew I should have carried it home with me on the bus yesterday. I suppose I could get on the 54C. Get off it in Oakland and pick up a 61A, 61B, or 501. But do I really want to go through that much trouble for a pie? I would get to stand in the sunshine for a while when I transfer buses which will be a nice change from sitting in front of my computer in an unheated house trying to delete a virus.

I don’t think I can motivate myself to go all the way across the city for the oozy, crumbly, cobbler-like pie I created. Is it shameful if I walk across the street and buy a Mrs. Smith’s or Sara Lee frozen Dutch Apple pie to fulfill this craving? I shouldn’t spend that money when I already have a perfectly good pie. But it’s not in my house. Maybe I should bake another pie from scratch…Maybe I should just stuff myself on the baked ziti that’s cooking in my oven so that I’ll be unable to think about stuffing apple pie into my already bloated belly.

Black Friday?

It’s two days after the holiday, and I still feel full. Does anybody really know what all the shopping fuss is about? What is Black Friday anyway? I thought it was a Megadeth song about a serial killer, not the biggest, baddest shopping day in America.

Today was quiet; too quiet; this blog will be silenced forever, goodbye and good riddance.

j.d.h.

I see you and I'm waiting for Black Friday
Turn me loose! - D. Mustaine, Megadeth, ... Peace Sells, But Who's Buying 1986.

Thanksgiving: After the Feast

Once again Justin, I want to apologize for still being in bed Thursday morning when you called to see what time you should come over. But, I think we started our day at a good time. We spread our eating ad drinking out over many hours so that we were never too full or too drunk.

The duck was delicious and we know what a picky eater I am. There are some great pictures of you carving the duck while Tricia’s red clothed arm holds it stead with a fork. Which you have already posted I see.

That duck came a long way from the beginning of the day when you were struggling to remove its innards and prop it on tinfoil balls.

Tricia and I worked hard on our knitting while you and Greg prepared the feast.

I wish I sat down to a table that looked like this every night.

When I Opened the Oven Door

When I opened the oven door, I expected to be faced with either a blast of flames, and smoke, and a still live (yet skinless and headless) burning duckling … slithering out onto the kitchen floor. Or! I figured I might be hit with a blast of flames and find the wide expanse of Hell opening up before me. Ol’ Damnation himself would delicately be pushing a red gondola across a Lake of Fire, with his stick-paddle thing. Thankfully, I found the duckling browned, and dripping juices. Things were working out just fine.

We listened to Doom Metal, and Power Violence during dinner. There’s nothing like Electric Wizard to set the mood for a holiday dinner. Faced with the task of fulfilling my duty as Head Chef guy, I prepared myself before mutilating (“carving”) the duck. Bones and tendons snapped, as I plunged my knife in, missing all the right spots. Everyone was thoroughly disgusted: Mantooth coughed up his soup. Pusha-T refused to talk to me for the rest of the night. Rrrrtmnd realized that the carnage would pass, and asked for the booze.

A swell evening, duck, noir, and Spider-Man II.

Hell yeah,
Justin

Additional Thanksgiving Gorgers

It looks like our Thanksgiving dinner party may be increasing in size. Our friend Intense Andy and his friend Tim might stop by to eat with us. They are both vegan. The only vegan item on our menu is salad, so they’ll be preparing their own food at home and then bringing it over to eat with us.

Also, Greg’s bandmate Jess and his girlfriend may be dining with us. They’re both vegetarian so Greg told them to bring themselves a tofurkey. I don’t think we need to up the quantities of what we’re already making in order to accommodate them as our menu is already extensive and varied.

Can a Chicken Feel Loss?

Generally I consider myself to be a rather competent cook; I can follow a recipe, and can even occasionally employ my own extrapolations, and modifications to successful ends. Yet, the prospect of cooking an entire animal (sans its head, fur/skin/pelt, and its inedible guts) makes me a little nervous. I wouldn’t say that I’m crushed by an overpowering, disabling dread, but the threat of possible kitchen disasters (or food-poisoning induced bazooka-barfing) sets me all in a dither. Here I am with a stomach burble, swooning out of my chair, like some suffocating, corseted lady. Frankly, I don’t have the equipment (neither a wire rack nor a meat thermometer) or patience to cook a turkey. This predicament led me to Irma Rombauer’s Joy of Cooking (1997 Edition). I wanted a little creative guidance. Who says Thanksgiving has to be about a freaking Turkey anyhow? Poultry’s poultry… or so thought.

I’ve never taken issue to handling raw meat, there just isn’t any sort of repulsion or aversion there; I think the strange side of things comes in the form of an untapped, underlying psychotic urge to be covered in blood, and to wield a knife that can easily cut through bone. Sure, I’ve had my share of “I’m a butcher in small town America, circa 1950” daydreams. There usually isn’t anything fundamentally weird about these musings. My conceptions are based in authors’ depictions of the period, and profession. The butcher is the sad bastard in town who spends days getting grimy, but his nights are filled with passion, making love with the local widows.

So what was I saying about fowl? Irma Rombauer is rather illuminating in her descriptions. As lead cook for our Thanksgiving Day celebration, I decided to take on the cooking of any non-turkey bird.

In my reading of the “Poultry” and “Game” chapters in JoC, I found some details to be rather interesting… “A capon is a castrated young male chicken. His loss (emphasis mine) causes him to swell to a weight of 8 to 10 pounds, enough for eight or more generous servings” (Rombauer 576). Sweet Jesus!

Needless to say, there I was at the grocery store, T-minus 15 hours and counting, handling two different frozen capon, and wondering if it would be morally reprehensible to buy a castrated, milk-fed and swollen chicken for Turkey Day. I decided to go with the 5 and ½ pound duckling, given the simple recipe listed in the JoC, and the somewhat less egregious implications of my purchase. The only required ingredient was a handful of salt. Onward and Upward!

Happy Turkey-Day,

Justin

Gristle clog in the ham juicer!

Hey All!

We can prepare and enjoy our Thanksgiving dinner at Greg’s house. He has lots of space and an abundance of cookware for us to use. I know we’ve decided to split up the menu, so he’s what he and I will make to contribute: apple pie, squash soup, stuffed pears, salad, various appetizers, and some sort of beverage. Oh, and I already bought two cans of cranberry sauce because it was on sale at the supermarket. Justin, you’ve volunteered to be in charge of the bird so please let Greg and I know how much we owe you for whatever type of fowl you purchase.

I guess we should make what we can ahead of time that way we won’t have to get up at 8am to prepare this feast or elbow each other in an attempt to use the stove.

Tantamount to Turkey

The impetus for this web-log was a directive handed down by our own MLIS homework overlords. The cat-o’-nine-tails cracked in its curious, syncopated ennead, and we jumped to the rhythm. I can picture Professor Five in a leather mask, with zippered eyeholes, carelessly, and impassively driving us forth in a monotone. I’m not suggesting that this assignment is in any way grounded in inanity – at this point I believe the whole affair can be turned into something rather enjoyable for us, and readable for you.

Kelly, and I (Justin) decided for our own collective sake, and sanity, that we should approach this task with a light-heart, and an effervescent air of festivity. Because the content mustn’t be anything academic, or even related to the course (ha ha, get it?), we have quite a degree of latitude (obviously). For that reason, this blog will act as a digital, and public chronicle of our shared Thanksgiving Day. While I can’t think to represent the will of my partner in this endeavor, I think the appropriate approach would be to log the day before/of/after the actual holiday. So dear reader, you’ll find a comprehensive description of the most honest holiday of them all; it’s all about the food and fellowship, right?

Happy Turkey-Day,

Justin