I Got Your Yuletide Right Here

Let's see...it's the Third of December and thus far I've visited two places for Christmas shopping - Kroger and the always delightful Jo-Ann's Craft Store (it's like a deep-discount wannabe Michael's).

This year I decided to say "F Consumerism" (a.k.a. "Screw any expectations those in my family or social circle may have of getting something they might actually want") and try to make gifts with my own two Carpel Tunnel-ized hands. Let's just say the bulk of my "gifts" thus far involve Mason jars and Mod Podge.

In a conversation this morning with a co-worker, I confided that this newfound desire to give homemade items was more than just a "Hey, I'm Broke" move. One reason is that my recent forays into canning leave me wanting for more. I could can all day - just slap a red gingham apron and a Beltone hearing aid on me and call me "MeeMaw" - I've got your sweet southern jams right here.




Another is that I'm increasingly viewing Christmas as more of a reason to look forward to seeing family, singing the same old songs, and getting all teary-eyed during the candlelight service (which is fast becoming my one church visit per year, astoundingly. I think I play the jaded Preacher's Kid a little too well sometimes).

This coming from the darling dear who famously inquired "Is that all?" after ripping through a pile of presents, circa 1988. Yes, I was an only child. And a total bitch.

Now, wishing for Peace on Earth and Goodwill to Men, warbling "Deck the Halls" just a little too loudly, and taking a nip of eggnog and a bite of gingerbread would be more that enough to keep me happy.

It actually sounds pretty amazing.

Please Pass the Puddin'

Thus far in our married life routine of juggling family time, Scott and I developed a pretty awesome and efficient holiday routine - Thanksgiving with his clan, Christmas with mine.

It works because it boils down to two things: Thanksgiving is about food, which the Adams Family has down to a big ol' literal gravy-covered T, and Christmas is of course about all things red, green, and white with Santa and Baby Jesus guest-starring, the lot of which my Mother Margaret smothers and covers all over the damn place.

I love Thanksgiving at the in-laws because of the sheer number of them. Growing up, it was my parents and me, the only child, with widowed grandmothers and the occasional aunt, uncle and cousin thrown in the mix. I became used to the holidays being pretty intimate, but now that I have a wealth of in-laws, it's so fun to see all the personalities and the food preferences gel and collide. This year, the in-laws hosted at the family house at Sullivan's Island, South Carolina, a wonderful sprawling "Goat House" that is best suited at full and boisterous capacity - and it was.



The Goat House

The night before Thanksgiving, we sat down at a long table and gobbled down at least 10 pounds of fresh boiled shrimp, red rice, and biscuits. Some dipped their shrimp in drawn butter, while others preferred cocktail sauce, but everyone agreed that these were the sweetest shrimp anyone had enjoyed in a good long while.

Scott and I scored two pounds to take home by "volunteering" to behead the 15 pounds of shrimp - these are not the shrimp commonly found in your grocer's case. These had the eyes and all, so we had to pinch and twist at their little shrimp "necks" and pull those off, exposing what's known as the "head salad." I don't know what salad it's named for, but it's none that I want to eat anytime soon.

While the adults worked their magic in the kitchen, we nibbled on some snacks, as Adams Dinner Time usually strikes past 7 pm or so. Behold the amazing Boiled Peanuts - the informal Snack o' The South.

Boiled Peanuts at the bar

No, you don't eat them with a spoon, as a college friend raised in Michigan once asked. And while you're at it, please fix yourself a drink. You'll always find the bar fully stocked.





After a rousing game of "Playing Ping Pong with a Paddle in One Hand and a Fresh Cocktail in the Other," we all adjourned to the table, as decorated below:



The Thanksgiving meal included:
Turkey
Butter Beans
Grilled NY Strip
White Rice
Cornbread Stuffing
Corn Pudding
Sweet Potato Casserole
Turkey Gravy
Beef Gravy
Relish Tray, with pickles, olives, Chow Chow (if you're not Southern, Google it) and Artichoke Relish
Biscuits

Deserts offered were Apple Dapple cake (Caramel. Apples. Bliss.), Pumpkin Pie, and Banana Pudding.

Now, when you normally think of Thanksgiving Dinner conversation, one might consider a rundown of the year's milestones, the blessings and wishes/trials and tribulations of those gathered around the table.

Or, if you're with my in-laws, a rather perplexing discussion of what a White Owl is with a heaping side of conversation on sexual orientation as defined by the southern sweet treat of Banana Pudding. To quote the third-eldest uncle, "He likes the banana more than the puddin'."

Good times, I do declare. I laughed so hard at dinner that breathing became a task, which actually could help burn the calories from all that gravy and sweet potato casserole I inhaled.

So, to recap, the must-haves for a thoroughly enjoyable Thanksgiving are:
- good food
- lively company
- sexually-charged dinner repartee
and last, but not least,
- Puddin'.

Taking a bite out of the Big Apple

Oh, New York, New York. The Empire of all things fabulous, diverse, high brow, and well, high-priced.

This past weekend I visited the mecca of Tiffany's, Sex in the City-style shopping sprees, $15 cocktails with a penthouse view, the Subway (and I don't mean the six-inch sandwich), and lots of very important people (I'll get to my celeb spotting moment in a minute) rushing about. It's amazing.

As a girls weekend in The City, celebrating two moms-to-be, the occasion called for a couple must-dos. We must find a cute place to honor the maternal ones amongst us and we must head out for one night on the town, dressed to kill (or at least dressed for something other than a night with the remote control, a bag of Doritos, and a Bud Lite).

Thankfully, our seasoned and giddy expert KH, a resident of the Upper West Side, came to our aid. For our baby-shower-esque spot, KH discovered this gem, Alice's Tea Cup, a whimsical, colorful nod to Lewis Carroll's cast of characters on West 73rd St.

Working with five peckish yet overwhelmed ladies perusing the menu, our server recommended we order two of the Mad Hatter for Two, which each included two pots of tea, two scones with preserves and jam, two tea sandwiches, and a choice of choco-chip cake, a lemon tart, or chocolate mousse.

We selected sandwiches of hummus, curried chicken, roasted cumin and carrots, and a lapsang souchong chicken, granny smith apple and goat cheese, scones of mixed berry, vegan chocolate pumpkin, buttermilk, apple cranberry, and s'mores, and the Mother-to-Be tea (herbal raspberry/chamomile) and the Rooibos Phoenix (hints of honey/caramel/vanilla).

The ceremonial presentation with the gentility of pouring and sipping tea, and nibbling on dainty tea sandwiches created a very feminine and comfortable atmosphere we all relished. Of the items I tasted, I loved the cumin/carrot sandwich (give me uncommon over chicken salad any day!) and the vegan chocolate pumpkin scone. I kick myself for not buying any of that Rooibos tea - it was also unusual and perfect for a chilly day when you just want to sip tea and read.

If I went back, I would not get the desserts at all - ordinary and dry - but I would recommend the scones, a pot of tea, and a little sandwich or two. The place does great business with children's parties, but I think adults looking for childhood nostalgia and a place to enjoy nibbles of this-n-that would love Alice's.

Shopping can take a lot out of you, so when you need to refuel, don't go to Luigi's on 8th and 25th in Chelsea -they don't have a web site for me to link to and the first clue that the pizza wasn't "authentic" was the owner's Puerto Rican flag t-shirt. But we were desperate and needed a quick bite before the comedy show at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre.

Instead, get thee to the crowded but divine City Bakery. I must bestow almighty praise to to the insanely helpful Frommer's Portable Guide to New York City for leading us to this place. City Bakery - 3 West 18th St -not only has buffet/cafeteria-style stations with fresh organic vegetables, salads, baked goods, and more, but it features a MAC-N-CHEESE station, a Chocolate Room (more like a closet, but I'll give props anyway) with all kinds of candy bars and sweets to grab, a so-thick-it's-pudding hot chocolate with enormous homemade marshmallows, and apparently celeb sightings of the highest caliber.

UMA THURMAN, we saw.

Okay, I won't go all celeb-nutty, but it was pretty incredible to get mac and cheese, decadent hot chocolate, AND Uma, all in one place.

Granted, you pay for City Bakery by the pound and the place could use more seating. However, my $18.87 plate of roasted beets with mint, roasted butternut squash and pear, mac and cheese, green beans with pine nuts, turkey meatloaf, chicken with smoky ketchup, and roasted cauliflower was exactly what I needed -a break from carbs galore for some actual fruits and vegetables - and hoped for - unique, very Uptown, and yes, celeb-approved.

Hot chocolate that should come with a spoon

Our final evening in New York, we enjoyed a meal at an intimate Italian spot, Spiga - 200 West 84th - which really capped off our time there nicely. The servers and host were attentive, from bantering in Italian with our learned guide KH to helping us with our coats upon arrival and departure. The server accommodated us by plating three salads on one large dish for us all to share - the mix of pear, pecorino and arugula was fantastic! The wine we non-pregnant ladies enjoyed, a Setriolo Chianti Classico Vendemmia 2006, was smooth and warming, and the pace of the meal leisurely, with plenty of time for us to nosh and chat. One drawback: Spiga only accepts cash or American Express, so hit the ATM before if need be.

I chose the black squid ink linguine with shrimp, lump crab meat and arugula in a spicy tomato broth ($18.95) and I really was glad I ordered it instead of a creamy pasta, lasagna or ravioli I usually would ask for. Three in our party ordered it and I was the only one who raved, but I loved the color of the pasta, the chunks of crab, and the spice in the broth.

To show us a little of the Manhattan glamour, KH took us to the Stone Rose Lounge in the Time Warner Center at Columbus Circle. It was all glass and mirrors, low tables and plush seating, risque artwork and a fierce female DJ spinning, with lots of investment banker types (and one pony tailed sugardaddy in particular) milling about. Just a little Googling will tell you this place is owned by Cindy Crawford's husband, so that just proves right there it's all kinds of special.

Stone Rose is SO NYC it was ridiculous - with out-of-hand prices for beverages. Our bill included two virgin strawberry mojitos at $10 a piece and my Stone Rose cocktail of Woodford Reserve, Grand Marnier, white cranberry juice, sour mix and simple syrup was a hard-to-swallow $15. Well, it WAS NYC and I did want a taste of the high life (though I can get High Life at home, just $4.99 per six pack!)

At some point you just have to stop counting the dollar bills you spend and just start enjoying the views, the smells, the United Nations of communities you see all around you, the taxis, the lights, the fire escapes, the marquees, the Noo Yawk attitudes and the often surprising warmth and kindness from locals, and the gracious plenty of moments to see something new in New York City. I am thankful for wonderful friends and the opportunity to do just that.

Bourbon Trail

Erin and I took a trip to Kentucky this weekend (2.5 hours or so from Nashville) to tour whisky distilleries the way they're meant to be toured .. with tastings! I say this, as Tennessee's two big ones, Dickel and Jack Daniels, are in DRY counties, so good luck getting a tasting there. Cheers to you, Maker's Mark and Heaven Hill Distilleries (makers of Evan Williams and Elijah Craig).

The spellcheck on this just flagged "whisky" above, asking that it be spelled "whiskey." I did a quick look-up on history and culture, with Irish and American whiskeys being spelled that way and Scottish, Canadian, etc. being spelled whisky. Bourbon, we learned, must have the following attributes:

-at least 51% corn (most are 70% or so)
-made in America
-no more than 160 proof / 80% alcohol by volume (ABV)
-finished in charred white oak barrels

In fall 2008, we visited Isle of Arran Distellers, where we learned that Scotch is ironically finished in used, oak barrels, often from the Americas! So, a white oak tree in a Kentucky forest may eventually make its way to the west coast of Scotland for a wee bit more work. ; ) For a second act, the barrel, known as "cask" in Scotland, is putting out a product that's at least 98.4% ABV!! "Water of life," indeed! (Irish Gaelic uisce beatha and Scottish Gaelic uisge beatha)

Despite this being the 21st century, it's amazing how relatively simple and unchanged the whiskey distilling process is - it's mostly time and temperature that does the work. In fact, we learned that Elijah Craig was a minister, who, after a house fire singed his oak barrels, decided to use them anyway. The result? A beautiful, sweet, smooth product that customers downriver in New Orleans and beyond began demanding after his experiement in 1789.

Speaking of charred things, we finished the day in Bardstown at The Old Talbott Tavern, where we had some mediocre food. I got a Hot Brown and Erin had a chicken marsala. My meal came as expected, yet with a bit too much cheese and not enough bread, at least for my tastes. Erin's meal reminded me of cheap Chinese food, as the chicken was so fried it crunched - gross! Still, after a day of wondering around the Kentucky countryside, any meal was appreciated at that point.

Overall, the day-trip was fun and I'd recommend the Bourbon Trail to anyone wanting a mix of history, scenery and drinking.

Of things to come...

Can you guess what we did this weekend?