Art of the Odd

NovySan got the invite for his high school reunion yesterday. It’s at the Hilton, in a town near the one he grew up.

The invitation included a brief description of the event. There’ll be an open bar - four hours worth of an open bar. This is a good thing. And dancing, yes. We like dancing. And a buffet. That’s alright. Nothing wrong with a buffet. But what’s on the buffet, that’s the question. Well, it appears to be… Heavy hors d’oeuvres.

Heavy. Hors d’oeurves.

Heavy. Hors. D’oeurves.

Nope. Still can’t wrap my head around that.

I’ll plan to take a camera. And maybe a scale.

I’ve been craving a cheeseburger for days. Yesterday I said, “We should do cheeseburgers tonight! We’ve got that double gloucester/stilton blend that we should really try to eat before we leave for Ireland, and we can make sweet potato fries, which’ll get rid of some yams, too.”

Of course, I had to get buns, but those can be frozen before we go. “We’ll also need a tomato,” I thought, but then I remembered - we have a jar of sundried tomatoes. Might as well get those out. Ooooh, and look! Just enough spinach left to put that on the burgers, too!

We do have some hamburger patties in the freezer - left over from the last barbeque - but I didn’t want beef. I wanted venison. Fortunately, thanks to my stepfather, we’ve got quite a bit of that. (Our wedding gift from my awesome mother and her husband - a small chest freezer and a regular supply of game meat. Sam’ll take any excuse to do more hunting.)

Then NovySan got home and made some brilliant additions to the meal - like chopping one of the leeks that’s been languishing in the crisper drawer into the meat, with a generous helping of garlic. (This is where I complain that I looked everywhere for the jar of crushed garlic a week or so ago, and Novy found it behind the much larger jar of minced garlic. Which I also didn’t find. Gnomes are hiding my groceries.) And then, because as long as we’re finishing off cheese before we go, we might as well finish it all, he topped the Gloucester with herbed goat cheese.

There are reasons I love this man.

And as long as I’m talking about food…

I made this back in January. White bean and sweet potato soup, with walnut-sage pesto. It’s one of the best things I’ve ever made. The recipe is here. I substituted a pepper-infused olive oil for the walnut oil, to give it some heat.

This is Yammy.

He is a Yam Tater. He is, in fact, the King of the Yam Taters.

A YamKing, if you will.

Only the king is allowed to wear the nose.

Schokie didn’t trust the YamKing.

Yammy shared with us our holiday cheer.

Sometimes a little too much cheer.

But, like all seasonal kings, Yammy’s time on Earth was brief.

One dark winter night, the Banaaratots were dug.

The Delicatas sliced.

And Yammy was sacrificed to the cast iron gods.

We ate his flesh by candlelight.

And he presided over the feast.

Actually, I think it was time for bed about an hour ago. I’ve got more work I should be doing, but I can’t face it. I’ve got a headache, I’m cold (the cat is, too — she’s gotten quite aggressive about trying to be in my lap), and I need sleep.

Because I was working, I didn’t go to Melanie’s class tonight, which left me a bit of time to cook dinner — we had deer chops with garlic, leek, bell pepper and sweet potato, plus salad. Took about half an hour to make (I just sauteed everything in the oil left over from the sausages we had Sunday night, then simmered it in a tiny bit of vegetable broth), and between the garlic and the Italian sausage oil, didn’t require any other seasoning. I’m very happy with it.

Last night, I just flat forgot to post. So I’m backdating another entry. (Is it cheating if I admit I’m doing it?)

How’d I forget? Um… Well, after my lesson with Amara, I picked NovySan up from work, we took the rental car back, then we picked up a friend of Ben’s who’s vacationing in Santa Monica and took him to dinner at Lula. (Which isn’t as good as Finn’s, but I did like my chile relleno. And the sexy matador pinups in the bar are a definite plus.) So, by the time we got home, I was fried, and just flat forgot. (And after thinking to myself, “I’ll have to post when I get home,” too.)