It Is That Time of Year

I rarely post anything until after the holidays.  It is such an insane time.  Right now I have a break from packing internet packages and needed to sit down for a spell.  I love that phrase, "for a spell...."  I plan on keeping you updated with pics from New Orleans during the next week.  Although the pictures of my oyster loaf from Casamentos or my gumbo from R&O are enviable, y'all must think we eat the entire time.  We don't.  We also drink.

Every year we rush to put up a tree prior to leaving. This year was no different.  Our tree is not one to grace the cover of some magazine.  It is filled with mementos and gifts - the ugliest being Manny's 1st grade ornament that is simply a piece of wood glued with dried beans, macaroni and straws.  It is super ugly and up there.  Sev gets the "First One To Break An Ornament" every year.  I wish he wouldn't.

When John and I were fresh parents, we took Michaela, who had just started running (15 months) to Neiman Marcus.  We did not own a single ornament.  On the advice of some friends, we were told that NM was the place to go.  We needed to begin to create traditions for our new family.  Our small family packed up the car and drove to the Main Line.  We arrived at NM and went straight to the home section.  Michaela was a handful and therefore our time was limited.  The store was warm and crowded and the smell of cinnamon was heavy in the air.  Loud festive music was pulsing.  The ornaments were gorgeous.  Michaela babbled to no one in particular while bolted into her stroller.  We decided quickly and managed to lasso a sales associate.  We selected about 20 ornaments and a beautiful star for the top of the tree.  All seemed to be going as planned when Michaela started to convulse. Her chest thrusting forward as Kane's did on the Nostromo.  She started to twist her face and body, pulling her knees high, pulling at the constraints and finally bellowing, "OUT!  OUT!!! OUT!!"  Our trusty oblivious sales clerk was lovingly wrapping our precious glass ornaments and placing them in a beautiful cream box with care.  All 20 of them.  Instead of her chest bursting open to release the demon, her face turned red and she full out screamed "MA! OUT!  MA MA MA MA! OUT!"  Running the stroller in circles weaving through sloth-like people was not cutting it.At this point John and I started to discuss strategy.

John, "This is torture.  Should we bail? We are officially 'those' people."
Me, "We cannot.  He has already wrapped about 5."
John, "At the rate he is moving, we are going to be here for.ev.er!!!"
Me, "I am going to take her out and walk around.  Be back in 10."
John, "It is too hot.  Why is it so hot?  Why does it smell like a gingerbread man farted in here?"
Me, "Awesome, I have two toddlers..."
John, "(CENSORED)"

Unwisely, I released the beast from her chains.  Before her little feet could hit that perfectly polished marble floor she sprinted.  From the ceiling hung the assorted ornaments by gorgeous ribbon.  The ornaments were placed at various levels, the lowest falling at knee height creating a split in the room that was wall, really.  The beast had them in her sight.  Her arms stretched above her head and giggling madly ran through numerous people and yes, through the ornament wall, as one would run through strung disco beads.  Her little fingers hitting the delicate painted glass.  I was right behind her.  I gasped.  I frantically tried to stop the swinging ornaments. John ran around to the other side of the wall of ornaments as the beast stopped and turned.  Her face was rapturous, mouth agape in joy and arms stills spread, she slowly and unsteadily turned and readied her self to run back through.  Just as she took her first step, John swept her up into his arms football style, and marched out of the home section calling back, "You wait.  Meet you out front."  The beast roared, "NO NO NO NO NO!!  MAAAAAAA!"

Sev has broken about 25% of those original ornaments over the years.  He is impulsive and well, let's just say it, clumsy.  It drives us mad. We have never made it back to Neiman.  I have started to purchase ornaments while traveling to commemorate our lives.  Hand painted ornaments from Sicily, stuffed dragons from San Fran's Chinatown and glass crowns and martini olives from New Orleans.  About 10 years ago a friend who no longer has a Christmas tree as she travels, gifted a gorgeous ornament that she purchased in the 50s.  It is the gorgeous specimen above with the red rounded flower.  Since then, I search for old ornaments at thrift stores and flea markets.  They are hard to come by.  Gnome Chomsky (get it?) here was a gift from the beautiful talented Kamala.  I miss her.  She made that!  As beautiful as those NM ornaments are, my favorite are the gifts, the kids' monstrous creations and the travel ornaments.

We leave in a few days time for the Big Easy.  I am looking forward to seeing my family and eating large.  My beautiful nephews are growing at a pace that frightens me.  It will be a very short trip this year.  So much going on in the new year.  Cannot wait to share the news.

It's Cold and Damp and I Just Want to BBQ

It is chilly and damp in Philly.  A typical December day.  I keep looking out the back window at my Big Green Egg.  I love that thing.  I cannot tell you how many people around these parts look at my Egg with a puzzled look.  "What the...  What is that?  It looks like an alien pod or ...something."  Oh that!  That's my super awesome BBQ and smoker.  It took John several hours to assemble (he's not all that handy AND he's a perfectionist. Perfect storm).

When the Green Egg first arrived I could not really understand its power, its bravado, its general staggering magnificence.  I smacked some burgers on the grill, maybe some seafood.  Standard fare, really.  Then I accidentally got it up to 800 degrees and melted off the felt gasket.  That blew.  800 degrees prompted pizza.  A little too smoky.  Which got me thinking.  Smoky....  I pulled out my BBQ book.  I read, I studied and I became determined to tame this beast.  It's easy to get the temp up, but how to get it to a slow smolder.  Air was the answer and playing with it was my task.



I was ready.  I purchased a bone in pork shoulder.  Roughed it up and smacked it around with some salt, brown sugar and hot  pepper.  Got the Egg ready and added some soaked hickory chips and produced thick smoke.  In went the shoulder.  Two hours later, out went the charcoal.  Not a complete bust, as the shoulder eventually cooked, although it was dry and squeeky.  Know what I mean?  Some homemade BBQ sauce masked its imperfections and my choice of a brioche roll was not quite right.

After numerous tries, I got it down.  Don't give up, friends.  A promise is a cloud; the fulfillment is rain, said someone smarter than me and I am using it to suit my meaning.  I knew that if I kept at this Egg, it would yield something magical. I did not give up.  Eventually I arrived home, baby.  I used some super squishy yeasty rolls I purchased at a deli in Jersey that had little burnt onion pieces.  So delicious.  The meat was juicy and smoky and well, incredible.  The Egg did its job. It just needed some love and appreciation.  I had a Ferrari in the back yard and I was treating it like a 1985 Toyota Tercel.