Christmas, 2018
I'd like t begin this entry by saying this was the best Christmas ever. I'd like to. I'm tempted. But, of course, Christmas has fundamentally changed for us now that both our parents have passed away. Mom is the person who kept us in touch with each other. Mom is the person we traveled through snow storms to see at this time of year: https://johnwesley73.livejournal.com/364208.html
Nevertheless, we still try to make a go of it and, I have to say, yesterday was one of the better holidays we have spent together recently. It began with the decision not to cook the entire meal this year. The online catering service I had encountered completely by happenstance in a completely old-fashioned way - by walking past a sign in a restaurant window one evening - had worked well enough when Sis tried it last Thanksgiving (though, I couldn't understand her decision to substitute roast chicken for the original turkey dinner), that I thought it worth another try.
It worked out incredibly well. First of all, they must have listened to complaints that the side dishes weren't quite enough to feed a table of four. Instead of the two sides packed into two containers the size of a Chinese take-out order, the young woman at Bono Forno Rosso on Gold Street (about three blocks away from me) showed me three separate aluminum warming trays - one for the turkey and one for each side - each a good twelve inches in diameter. It was enough to feed a small army and I couldn't tell if they had made a mistake or if picking up the order on Christmas Eve conferred some sort of secret benefit on the purchasers who were mindful of the fact that restaurant employees had families to visit on Christmas, too.
I think, if I had packed each tray separately, I could have fit them all in my mini-shopping cart. But, not wanting to disturb the caterers carefully arranged cardboard box until I got home, I actually took the shopping cart back to the apartment and came back. That was probably a mistake.
The trays were packed side by side in the cardboard box which was roughly the same dimension as a Brooks Brothers suit box. But, unlike a suit, the contents of this box could not be carried sideways. It had to be gripped on both sides by hand and all of that food probably weighed about twenty pounds.
Even getting out of the restaurant door, which sat at the top of a short metal staircase, felt like I was courting disaster as I had to push the outer door with my back before I could pivot around to see where I was stepping.
But, gaining my footing on level ground was only the beginning. It soon became obvious that carrying twenty pounds of dead weight was the functional equivalent of a carrying a live Christmas tree home from a street vendor, something I have been avoiding for the past fifteen years. Luckily, Flatbush Avenue has public curbside seating at strategic intervals and I took full advantage of them, resting with my package every 50 feet or so.
It wasn't that bad. Just a little patience was required. A neighbor pulled opened the doors to my building and rode up the elevator with me, to do all the button pushing.
Once inside my apartment, the real Christmas miracle began. Having procured so much food the day before Christmas, I now had to figure out how to store it until the next day - and, then - how to warm it up again in time for dinner.
Two of the trays, the turkey and a roasted vegetable concoction - were still relatively warm. They required some thinking. Should I risk just leaving them where they were for the night? The third was an inexplicably cold dish I wasn't entirely sure I had even ordered. I decided to make sure.
I thought I had ordered "creamed spinach" and I recognized something that looked very much like spinach entwined with a batch of other cold ingredients. And, it actually tasted pretty good; something with a chewy white consistency was reminding me of chicken salad which would have been a perfect alternate dish for my sister-in-law, who is allergic to turkey.
So, I doubled back to the restaurant, making sure to compliment them on how tasty everything was, just to inquire as to what was in the creamed spinach besides the spinach?
It turns out that the white, chewy parts were artichokes. And, yes, it was supposed to be served cold. The cream part of the recipe had to do with the cream cheese sour cream mixed in with everything. So, that made one thing that could go right into the fridge, leaving a decision to be made about the other two trays.
Nevertheless, we still try to make a go of it and, I have to say, yesterday was one of the better holidays we have spent together recently. It began with the decision not to cook the entire meal this year. The online catering service I had encountered completely by happenstance in a completely old-fashioned way - by walking past a sign in a restaurant window one evening - had worked well enough when Sis tried it last Thanksgiving (though, I couldn't understand her decision to substitute roast chicken for the original turkey dinner), that I thought it worth another try.
It worked out incredibly well. First of all, they must have listened to complaints that the side dishes weren't quite enough to feed a table of four. Instead of the two sides packed into two containers the size of a Chinese take-out order, the young woman at Bono Forno Rosso on Gold Street (about three blocks away from me) showed me three separate aluminum warming trays - one for the turkey and one for each side - each a good twelve inches in diameter. It was enough to feed a small army and I couldn't tell if they had made a mistake or if picking up the order on Christmas Eve conferred some sort of secret benefit on the purchasers who were mindful of the fact that restaurant employees had families to visit on Christmas, too.
I think, if I had packed each tray separately, I could have fit them all in my mini-shopping cart. But, not wanting to disturb the caterers carefully arranged cardboard box until I got home, I actually took the shopping cart back to the apartment and came back. That was probably a mistake.
The trays were packed side by side in the cardboard box which was roughly the same dimension as a Brooks Brothers suit box. But, unlike a suit, the contents of this box could not be carried sideways. It had to be gripped on both sides by hand and all of that food probably weighed about twenty pounds.
Even getting out of the restaurant door, which sat at the top of a short metal staircase, felt like I was courting disaster as I had to push the outer door with my back before I could pivot around to see where I was stepping.
But, gaining my footing on level ground was only the beginning. It soon became obvious that carrying twenty pounds of dead weight was the functional equivalent of a carrying a live Christmas tree home from a street vendor, something I have been avoiding for the past fifteen years. Luckily, Flatbush Avenue has public curbside seating at strategic intervals and I took full advantage of them, resting with my package every 50 feet or so.
It wasn't that bad. Just a little patience was required. A neighbor pulled opened the doors to my building and rode up the elevator with me, to do all the button pushing.
Once inside my apartment, the real Christmas miracle began. Having procured so much food the day before Christmas, I now had to figure out how to store it until the next day - and, then - how to warm it up again in time for dinner.
Two of the trays, the turkey and a roasted vegetable concoction - were still relatively warm. They required some thinking. Should I risk just leaving them where they were for the night? The third was an inexplicably cold dish I wasn't entirely sure I had even ordered. I decided to make sure.
I thought I had ordered "creamed spinach" and I recognized something that looked very much like spinach entwined with a batch of other cold ingredients. And, it actually tasted pretty good; something with a chewy white consistency was reminding me of chicken salad which would have been a perfect alternate dish for my sister-in-law, who is allergic to turkey.
So, I doubled back to the restaurant, making sure to compliment them on how tasty everything was, just to inquire as to what was in the creamed spinach besides the spinach?
It turns out that the white, chewy parts were artichokes. And, yes, it was supposed to be served cold. The cream part of the recipe had to do with the cream cheese sour cream mixed in with everything. So, that made one thing that could go right into the fridge, leaving a decision to be made about the other two trays.