Indian Food & Applesauce

Since November, cooking has been feast or famine. A friend asked, recently, if we went out to eat a lot, and honestly, the only answer that made sense to me was that we’re cyclical. When work and travel collide, Viking and All Clad get abandoned in favor of oh let’s just go get something. If I’m overwhelmed, cooking is the easiest thing to abandon and between Halloween and Christmas I can’t say that my kitchen saw much love. Then the crowd of Yuletide Cheer arrived in the form of lots of houseguests and my poor kitchen went from abandoned to abused.

I lived in the kitchen – which was fine, actually, as it seemed to be the only room of the house without a guest sleeping in it - and I learned that feeding 13 people is exponentially harder than feeding 8. I have a big kitchen and I inherited my mother’s love of plates but I was scrambling; there never seemed to be enough plates, enough silverware, enough counter space. The fridge was crammed full and I could keep food for only two dinners at a time; Publix and Kroger and Harris Teeter were constant companions. I think the only thing we had enough of were gluhwein mugs collected from many Christmas markets – finally justification for making Mike rinse them out in hotel sinks and lug them home.

Because I’m, um, me I planned menus, printed them and left them on each guest room door. It helped me organize and shop and most importantly it fed my inner Martha. I put out German breakfasts, cooked Austrian and Thai and Italian and then on Christmas Eve I faced the aisles of Publix less than an hour before it closed and hit the wall. I had to buy the supplies for our Christmas Day feast as well as dinner that night and I realized that I had only half an idea of what I needed, I’d never shopped so against the wire before and I was hungry. I called home, reached Mike and threw up the white flag that he and Jon had so thoughtfully supplied the night before. I give, I said. Call for BBQ.

It was past dusk on Christmas Eve and in any other place I’ve lived there would be no last minute salvation, but the kindness of strangers in the South is not to be underestimated, and BB’s, though officially closed, picked up the phone and graciously agreed to facilitate my little holiday miracle by waiting for us to arrive. Miti and I frantically grabbed our last items and escaped Publix, only to run into police directing early Christmas Eve service traffic at the largest church in town, a car full of people cruising the Christmas lights on 96 at 20mph and every possible red light between the east and west ends of Franklin. We were punchy and hungry and giggly and maybe a bit frantic but it was fun and I thought Oh! So this is why people like movies about Christmas catastrophes that turn out ok in the end. Oddly enough the nice guy who owns the BBQ place is also a California transplant, here because, like us, he wanted to live in a place where people wait for the answer to a polite question. We piled the pork and ribs and slaw and sauce on top of Miti and headed home, with a quick stop at Kroger because HELLO we forgot bread for stuffing. I proceeded to run into friends in the store, bought way more than just bread and then piled these new items, too, on Miti’s lap. By the time we got home her face was barely visible and I had to airlift dinner off her so she could escape.

The BBQ was good. This is Tennessee so that’s a given, really, but it was nice to feed people without the heat of the stove, to have no dishes to clear in order to play games at the table, to have a clean kitchen when, hours later, I made overnight salad and cinnamon rolls for Christmas morning.  Of course the cooking and the mess and the pots and pans were back the next day but the break was good, and a taste of things to come. Boxing Day we escaped with the Morris family for fancy hamburgers and constant refills on iced tea - the next morning there was a Cracker Barrel breakfast. And then, poof, everyone was gone and we were too, off to Berlin and restaurants and leaving behind a house that still looked like Dec 26 when we got home on January 3.

Last week was a constant steady project, a little bit each day, dismantling the holiday, cleaning the floor, doing the laundry, ironing the linens and putting life back into a reasonable schedule. We managed a run to Trader Joe’s and I sat down and planned dinners and then Sunday there was celery soup and parsnips and enough prime rib to feed us dinner and two lunches. Last night was my first attempt at Indian food, and the conversion of a bag of apples into a nicely spiced sauce that I enjoyed with oatmeal this morning. Tonight is tuna casserole, tomorrow leg of lamb, Thursday posole. There are still some spaces that need cleaning and some errands that need running but as I stirred unfamiliar spices into familiar ingredients last night I felt peacefully, satisfyingly, boring - cooking dinner at home on a winter Monday, no catering needs in sight. I thought I would feel recovered from the holiday swirl once the house was clean, the gifts put away, the last pine needle banished to the vacuum but it turns out all I really needed to do was cook. For two. 

Comments

[Erik Hansson]

Thanks for your good stories and pictures. Have you tried boiled potatoes?

Erik in Sweden

[Chris]

Happy Delurking Day!

[Anna]

Hmmm, your post makes me realize that I am not sure where our Gluhwein mugs are. Next year I suppose. Although maybe we'll just have to use yours. ;-p

[Aimee]

Erik, I did - and they were good! I need more practice though!

[Linda]

Being part of the Yuletide Cheer was and always is wonderful. What would we do without you? Why do you need practice to boil potatoes?