For a long time, if you asked me what my absolute favorite meal was, I would reply, “Grilled cheese and tomato soup,” without any hesitation. Now, I have always loved a grilled cheese and still do, with a passion, in fact. But over the years, I realized that the other half of that duo was just not holding up its end of the bargain. I would dutifully make my can of tomato soup to go with my sandwich, and while it kind of worked as a counterpoint to a perfectly toasty, cheesy sandwich, it mostly just sucked. I know this is impolitic of me, but regular tomato soup is just so boring. The terrible mediocrity of it is what made me give up on the idea that grilled cheese and tomato soup was, indeed, my favorite meal. Something that most closely resembled ketchup water had no place in any of my favorites lists.
And then… dun dun dun. Continue reading
I know what you’re thinking. You think I’ve turned to the dark side. Who in their right mind makes enchiladas with chard and black beans? Enchiladas are meant to be the stuff of roasted pork and slow-cooked beef. Well, most of the time, I’d agree with you. Some things just aren’t meant to be fusion-ed or vegetarian-ed. Most of the time. But not today.
Now, I know that I’ve been quite the delinquent lately. For this, I apologize. But you didn’t think I’d let the week before Thanksgiving go by without so much as a peep, did you? There are too many fabulous food-related things to talk about this week, too many recipes that would be just perfect to contribute to Thanksgiving dinner this year, too many opportunities to indulge in fantasies having to do with things like maple-flavored whipped cream and deep-fried turkey and cinnamon-laced something-or-other.
I don’t know about you, but Thanksgiving at our house always consists of the exact same dishes. Same turkey. Same stuffing. Same vegetables. This is in no way a bad thing. In fact, that’s kind of how I like my Thanksgiving dinner. These are dishes that have been honed over the past 25 years, until they are now at the point where they are about as perfect as can be. I don’t want to imagine a Thanksgiving without my dad’s broccoli cheese rice casserole, or my grandma’s cranberry relish. Thanksgiving would be somehow less Thanksgiving-y without them. Continue reading