Birthday Parties, You Know, For Kids
Young Master Fussy is having a party and the thought fills me with dread, but probably not for the usual reasons.
Some parents hate places like Chuck E. Cheese, but having grown up in video game arcades as a kid myself, this modern (if infantile) facsimile of one still feels like home. Other adults just go mad at the sound kids make when they are excited. That doesn’t bother me, although I’m not so crazy about the faces sticky with soda and the hands greasy from pizza. So as long as the kids don’t touch me, I’m fine.
Long ago I learned not to have the party at our house. And I’ve figured out a few strategies to keep expenses down at a more modest level than some juvenile soirees.
So why the dread?
Well, because when I was a kid, my mother was brilliant about putting together fun, well-themed, homemade parties for me and my sister. And I, for a lack of a better word, suck at it. Which isn’t entirely true, since I don’t even try. But let me give you a sense of what I would be competing with.
Generic Mediterranean
The end of summer and the beginning of fall is really a marvelous time. It’s harvest season. Spring is full of potential, but here in the northeast we don’t eat much fresh local produce in spring. In spring the earth is still frozen. The snow melts, seeds get planted, and the sun shines. But the first edibles seem to take an eternity to rise up from the earth.
Fresh local produce begins to trickle in at the beginning of summer. But it’s the end of July and early August when sweet corn and tomatoes are so good that cooking them seems like a crime. And all this time, other plants are in the ground basking in the sun and sucking up rain.
Despite the devastation left by Irene, the subsequent rains, and multiple floods, we are still getting delicious vegetables from our CSA with Roxbury Farm. This week was filled with sweet Italian red peppers and tomatoes. There were some root vegetables and winter squash too, in addition to a couple other pepper varieties.
It’s always interesting, when confronting a basket of produce, to see where inspiration comes from. For some it might come from Mexico, leading them to combine tomatoes, onions and jalapenos in a variety of ways. Others might turn to India, putting potatoes, red onions, and eggplant together in a curry.
But I’ve come to realize that first and foremost The Fussies look to the Mediterranean.
The Salad That Eats Like a Cheeseburger
Some people wait all day for the cocktail hour. Others anticipate the moment when the kids are finally asleep. There are even some freakish people whose favorite moment of the day is early in the morning, just before the crack of dawn. Granted, some of those people are bakers. But not all bakers love the brutal hours of their craft.
Lunch has always been my favorite time of the day.
In elementary school it was brown-bagged lunches packed with love by a parent. In middle school it was primarily scoops of industrial foods on cardboard trays. In high school it was leaving campus, mostly for falafel. During college, lunch was where I got most of my daily calories from my five-meal weekly dining contract. When I was unemployed I got to make Italian sausage sandwiches almost daily for my mid-day meal.
However it was only after I exchanged my freedom for a job that lunch became a much bigger deal. While my colleagues were content to eat their lunches at their desks I made it a priority to get out of the office. I needed my own space. I needed fresh air and I needed some time to breathe it.
Yes, sometimes I had to work at my desk through lunch. And on those occasions, I would quickly dash out to the corner deli with a coworker or two and console myself with this perfect lunchtime meal.
Research Hurts
I don’t want your sympathy. Understanding maybe, but not sympathy. Because I know that I am a very lucky man.
Yesterday I spent the day at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center for the 2011 Saratoga Wine and Food Festival. The event was sponsored by the Italian Trade Commission, and they invited me as their guest to partake in the festivities.
There were plenty of local food bloggers and non-food bloggers in attendance. Several prominent local chefs could be seen walking the aisles of the two main tents. Apparently Marcus Samuelsson was there, but I didn’t get the chance to meet him. Anyway, the idea was to try and get a better understanding of Italian wines. And I regret to say that didn’t quite happen.
For the record I was very close to achieving this goal. I was led to believe that I held a ticket for an Italian wine seminar, which was limited to 100 participants. But apparently what I had was the reminder to get a ticket. And even my press pass didn’t help get me into this very special event.
Regardless, it was a great day, and I’m full of inspiration as a result of the time I spent there. But I’m also really, really tired. So I’ll make you a deal.
Fall Bar
Eating and drinking seasonally just feel right to me. When summer is here, I want things that are cool and refreshing. But as a nip starts to form in the evening air and the darkness begins to descend earlier in the day, the bright and colorful drinks of warmer days seem less appealing.
A long long time ago, I believed in keeping a full stocked bar at home. However as I’ve grown older, I’ve abandoned such pursuits and try to stick with bottles that reflect the season. Now there are some that really work all year long. Gin is the perfect example, although some would likely campaign for whiskey. After all, it’s hard to argue with Manhattans.
As I mentioned earlier this week, the white rum and tequila are on their way out. Actually the tequila is gone. Although I haven’t talked explicitly about what’s replaced them, or how the whole liquor cabinet is shaping up. But looking across the new additions, and the old bottles that will be back in rotation, I’m seeing a definite flavor profile for the fall.
Bacon Flambé and Gold Lamé
Note: The soundtrack for today’s post can be found here.
If I’m lighting fires in my kitchen on purpose, summer must be over.
In summer I don’t even like brewing hot coffee, and coffee is critical for my survival. Yesterday I made my first hot pour-over of the season, using the tried and true Intelligentsia Coffee method. I’m also back to making brown rice by boiling it in a large and open cauldron of water for half an hour.
So, yeah. I lit some bacon on fire. On purpose. It was one of those things that just felt right at the time. And let me tell you, it was delicious.
Going Donut Picking Again
Just a couple weeks ago, a reader came up to me in a bar and suggested that I ought to bring people around to some local apple orchards and evaluate their cider donuts. No joke. And up until that very moment I thought I had been doing a pretty good job with this blogging thing.
Apparently when you write a post a day, some of the older pieces get lost. What I need is a librarian, archivist, or some kind of information architect. Any volunteers?
Anyhow, it’s amusing, because despite all my daily rantings full of piss and vinegar, some have said that I’ve become known for my tours. Which, mind you, I’ve only done four times. The first of which was last fall, and it was the Tour de Donut, where we tasted five cider donuts from some of the region’s most beloved orchards.
Except we had to cut a lot of orchards out, and at the time I knew we would need to do multiple rounds to cover the best cider donuts of the Capital Region. This year is Round Two. And this time we are heading east of the Hudson. Also this year, if you plan to come, there will be a pre-requisite homework assignment.
Nominations start today. I also want to share the most likely date and time.
Labor Day Recitations
Every Labor Day I feel the need to tell you all a few critical things:
1) If you are grilling today, it’s a cookout, NOT a barbecue.
2) Put those crisp white wines in the fridge and drink them soon.
3) Finish up any leftover white rum and tequila.
4) Should you freeze pesto, don’t freeze the cheese.
Actually, in Albany it should be raining all day. So there goes the grilling thing already. Luckily we don’t really celebrate Labor Day in the Fussy household. Mrs. Fussy works all the time.
Still, it’s a well-established day to look back over the summer that is ending and look forward into the fall that awaits. And except for the raking, I really love fall. But before we can move forward we have to revisit the regrets.
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