Random Post-holiday Thoughts
Let's be real. I've been thinking and talking a lot the past couple of weeks about New Year's Resolutions. I'm not against them. I'm very much for them, actually, and have a goodly sized list. But the usual, “eat healthier” resolution - or whatever version of that I end up adopting - is fighting a battle against the ginormous bag of edible goodies that Santa brought me. Plus the couple of things I bought at 70% off after Christmas. And the Chex mix made by The Matriarch that keeps appearing anew every time we finish off a bag. Egg nog only recently left the refrigerator. Who am I kidding - there is no “battle”. I decided it wasn't worth the fight. I'm just going to enjoy it till it's gone, or I get sick of it, and then get resolution-ary.
Meanwhile, since I've stretched the holidays out a bit (as I write this, we haven't even taken our Christmas decorations down), I might as well pontificate on some of the random culinary moments of the past season that isn't quite past … yet.
This year, for the first time, The Wife and I experienced The Guest Room in all it's Christmas finery. It wasn't our first time to visit; we'd been there once for a reception of sorts prior to a food event that was held Upstairs at Tyler. But we'd been hearing for a while about the Christmas decor, and how we just had to see it. So this year, with my co-hosts at Guys of a Certain Age podcast and our wives, we decided to celebrate the season as well as the recording of our 50th episode, and we did it over dinner at The Guest Room.
If you haven't seen this place decked out at Christmas, then let me join the throng that's saying, “You've got to see this.” Practically the whole place was wrapped in Christmas paper, there were giant glowing electric candles, vintage decor decked the walls, and strings of lights were everywhere. That doesn't begin to do it justice. It was more Christmas-y than the North Pole.
And the food was great, too, of course, given that it was the same basic menu as Restaurant Tyler. We shared a charcuterie board that was loaded with meats, cheeses, and accompaniments such as Mississippi Red Pepper Jelly, most of which was prepared in house. And by “prepared” I don't mean just the ham slicing, pickle dicing, and bread toasting. I mean the meat was cured, the veggies were pickled, and the peppers were jellied in house. The folks in the kitchen there have skills.
One of the great things about having the kids around the house during their Christmas break is all the nice things they do for you. As a coffee lover, it's been particularly fun to get up in the morning and have Son make me a cup of coffee. He grinds the beans himself, then activates the fancy kettle Santa brought him that keeps the water at the perfect temperature for every possible brewing method, then makes a pour-over with his Chemex. Or on another morning he might use the Aero-press. Making coffee never gets boring when he's around.
Apparently I missed a milestone in Daughter's life when we were in Gatlinburg. On our first night there I settled down for a long winter's nap. Or in other words, I fell asleep on the couch watching football. When I woke up, it was just me, Maw-in-law and her two chihuahuas that had been left behind in the condo. The rest of the gang had ventured into town to see what mischief they could get into. I didn't mind being mostly deserted; apparently I needed the nap more than I needed the socializing. But I did miss Daughter eating her first corn dog. Well, at least the first one in a dozen years.
Long-time readers (and I mean really long-time) may remember my tale of hot dog week. The Wife was gone, and I was in charge of feeding the kids. I decided it would be fun to see how many ways I could incorporate hot dogs into our menu, and corn dogs were a part of that. And we were not living in a part of the world where we could just go buy frozen corn dogs and pop them in the oven. Oh no. I made the batter, I found some clean sticks, I dipped the hot dogs, and fried those bad boys myself. (In fact, I had so much batter I corned almost everything in our refrigerator that batter would stick to.) But I doubt she even remembers that. What I do remember hearing, somewhere along the journey since that week so many years ago, is that corn dogs were gross. So you can imagine my shock when she came back from this sojourn into the chaos that is downtown Gatlinburg during the holidays, and said, “Hey! I ate a corn dog! I don't like cornbread, and I don't like hot dogs, but it wasn't bad!” Kudos to my niece for encouraging this new venture.
One final tip for travelers. If you are going to be staying in a place with a kitchen, and you're planning to cook, bring your own seasoning. I set out a jar of cajun seasoning to take with us but it didn't make it into the luggage. Thus, I ended up flavoring my first morning's eggs with marinara from our Italian leftovers. The second morning I seasoned them with pepper that had fallen mysteriously into my pocket whilst at Dollywood, then topped them with crushed Slim Jim Squealin' Hot Pork Rinds my kids had given me. I was desperate, and it's kinda' like bacon, right?
From charcuterie to redneck eggs. Digression never tasted so good.