Culinary Landmarks On The Road Of Life

If people question whether I am a sophisticated, big-city adult, I shall look scornfully at them, disdainfully brush invisible dust off of my immaculate shirt-cuffs, and count off the following points in a dramatic-yet-suavely-amused manner:

1) I belong to a wine club;

2) Marina and I have successfully hosted our first Thanksgiving dinner;

3) I can now whisk my own whipped cream, and as God as my witness, I will never use Reddi-Whip again;

and 4) I have baked pumpkin bread all on my own.

I defy you to find anything less than adult and sophisticated about those achievements. See? You can't. And that's because these are all awesome culinary developments.

In order, then, a recap, full of pictures to make you hungry. If I make you hungry, you'll keep reading. That's how I figure it, at any rate. After all, who doesn't love food?

WINING FOR DINING



Whenever we go to Santa Cruz, we stop by the Bonny Doon tasting room to buy a bottle of Calvadoon apple brandy, or better yet, two bottles, because I have a strong taste for the warm fire of golden apple brandy. The last time we went, I was offered a discount if I would sign up for a quarterly wine club. How could I refuse?

Well, obviously I could have refused by saying no, but I didn't choose to.

How could I refuse wine that comes in bottles whose lids feature an alien?

Some would argue that the newsletters that come with the wine are bit much--I couldn't tell you what it means to say that a wine is "fine-boned, lithe and feminine"--but they are fun, the wine is terrific, and the names are great. This most recent shipment featured two bottles of Le Cigare Volant. As the label states, "it is named in honor of the cigar-shaped alien crafts banned from landing in the vineyards of Chateauneuf-du-Pape by decree of the village council in 1954." A wine named for an incident in which a village deemed vineyards worth defying an alien invasion would have to be good!

And the bottle of Le Cigare Volant en foudre that we opened for our home-cooked (or mostly home-cooked) Thanksgiving dinner was certainly as fine-boned, lithe and feminine a wine as I've ever had.

THANKSGIVING DINNER

Thanksgiving has always been a meal cooked by other people. Well, no more! Marina and I organized a successful and small Thanksgiving dinner with my sister and Marina's mom and friend Tim.

It seemed like an intense undertaking until we realized we could order some of the dishes in advance. We ordered a small natural boneless turkey breast roast, mashed potatoes, stuffing and rolls from Whole Foods, which provided a surprising customer service delight. I had an initial problem with the online order changing my requested pickup date from Thanksgiving Day to the day after, which would not be terribly useful. When I called the store, not only was I assured that it wouldn't be a problem to pick it up earlier, but the woman I spoke to reviewed my order and advised that given the type of turkey we ordered, it would be best to pick it up on Wednesday night to allow it to thaw properly in the fridge. And when I went in to pick up the order and get the rest of the ingredients for what we would make ourselves, every employee was cheerful and helpful despite the chaos swirling around them.

The turkey needed to be roasted in the oven. I learned it can be a smattering mess to snip off the netting at the end, and that turkey can take a long time to cook. Overall, though, it turned out quite well. We also had roasted butternut squash--the instructions for which, having said to toss the squash with the other ingredients, gave me only a momentary confusion before I realized it didn't mean to flip the squash up in the air. In addition, there was a salad of green beans and slivered almonds, brandied cranberries, cheeses and salami and olives. Pictures will describe it best. Overall, it was a wonderful day, lasting 8 hours, food, drinking, and Wii-playing in a great big celebratory outburst, in mellow fashion.






All I need to say in addition was that Tim's pumpkin-pecan pie with hand-whipped cream was sublime. Seriously, the best dessert we could remember having.

WHIPPING CREAM

Speaking of hand-whipping cream, after seeing Tim do it, Marina and I wanted to replicate it. When we started, pouring whipping cream into a steel bowl and attacking it with a whisk, we thought we must have neglected something yeasty to solidify it. But we kept at it, tag-teaming the arduous whisking and churning, and all of a sudden, the liquid cream frothed up into something light and foamy and more-or-less solid, without the need of steel cans and propellants and what have you. Very liberating.

PUMPKIN BREAD

Yes, I have learned to bake, too. Okay, it was from a kit, but there was a heck of a lot of mixing involved, especially when the bread mix had to be combined with the oil, water, pumpkin and eggs until it was just moist. I wasn't sure what that meant, so I just kept stirring in portions of the bread until it blended in to the rest of the ingredients. A great workout for the arm, I have to say.

As it was baking, I kept sticking in a toothpick, expecting it to come out clean. I thought this meant absolutely no crumbs or hints of chocolate, until the peanut gallery advised me this was not the case.

I was quite happy with the outcome!