The holidays are a time for family and cooking those special dishes everyone loves and waits all year to get. It's also the time, at least in my house, for the annual Christmas eave gourmet dinner.
The Children when they were small and adventurous, would badger the chef until you'd break and tell them what was on the menu, my ex, or have fun with them by playing "Can you guess?" That would be me. I almost miss the constant kitchen traffic and queries of "What cha' making?"
When The children's father would cook it was lobster, crab or Prime rib. The first year we got live lobster and let the kids race them across the kitchen floor, with much laughter and joy. This is where we learned the lesson of "You don't name what you eat" It makes it hard to cook and eat them later.
The ex was all "More for me!" but I could see the the look of betrayal in the eye's of my child.
They ate only the sides that year, of which there was plenty but that isn't the point is it?
Speaking of those sides, of garlic mashed potatoes, a large salad, Buttered broccoli and a cheesecake of which only the flavor changed from year to year. The ex had definite idea's on food.
I on the other hand liked to experiment, and for the most part my family would eat my experiments happily, no complaints, no leftovers. Every once in a while the food gods did not smile on my efforts, usually when I was not feeling well or was distracted beyond the usual big dinner, 3 kids and a husband variety. Those disasters didn't happen very often and when they did they were pretty epic.
Like the time we had to ditch the Beans because the child didn't realize the can of mushrooms should not exhibit an attitude when opened, it spit at him, and he threw them in the casserole anyway. Good thing he mentioned this behavior before we all ate!
The time I over cooked the shrimp and we could have played table tennis with them, they were so chewy. Or the year the oven door decided after 40 years it had had enough and fell off, dumping the entire roast duck A'la Orange on the floor. Breaking the pyrex, splattering lava hot orange sauce and duck parts allover the kitchen floor my arm, one leg and leaving a divit in the linoleum, to remind us all to be very careful when using the oven. The same oven the ex swore up and down he had fixed and I must have "Done something to" the last time it flopped open after the loose spring finally broke. I had been holding it closed with a wooden spoon to bake for a month before the supposed fix. needless to say it didn't take.
Disasters aside, I'm a good cook and I like to try things I have only had or made in the restaurants were I worked before marriage. The year I decided to make Greek Youvetsi Arni a lamb shank stewed in tomato sauce served over Orzo. Roasting anything well takes hours and people get hungry, and by people I mean my family, so i decided to make a few side dishes and appetizers as well as the annual Christmas cookies, so the kitchen was a right mess. We had my ex's sister and friends over so there was even more confusion and noise, extra children and glasses of wine. Every time I would take cookies or crab cakes out of the oven, they would disappear, so I was getting a little crabby. In order to not starve before dinner, I was hiding a couple of whatever in a cabinet, it kept them out of the blast zone and safe from the ravening hoards.
I used to cater weddings and business meetings so I know how to feed a crowd but nothing keeps up with pre-teen stomachs. I had prepped most of the cookies stuff the day before and the dinner was pretty straight forward, hunk of meat in tomato sauce and herbs in large roaster in back of oven 3hours and your done. the rest was scoop on trays bake and serve. everything was labeled, except the salmon roe.
Between the making and the baking and the whipping of things the roe got pushed to the back of the counter, where one of the kids wanted to know what the pink stuff in the bowl was. Being busy I assumed it was one of mine and told them to try it and find out. Them not being one of my children, they did.
Ruining the joys of Terramosalata for them forever after. Though possibly teaching them an important lesson, Grown ups are not to be trusted.
