Thursday, January 19, 2012

nacho intifada

The 4th brother took one look at this image and asked what the hell he was doing with a dead greyhound...

The 3 Philly McDonald brothers and their significant others just treated their mom to a cooking event/dinner revolving around the previously unheralded goat. We ate goat ceviche, goat milk biscuits with goat butter, goat chops, goat curry, goat kielbasa, goat cheese and goat ice cream. While we ate 3 goats that had been killed the day before at a local farm, the head chef told us how to butcher a goat using the fourth of the unfortunate goat posse.

I couldn't help picturing the goats drawing straws:
Goat 1: No Brainer! I'll take ice cream, butter, and cheese!
Goat 2: Alright then, ceviche it is
Goat 3: I guess I'll take Kielbasa. At least I'll finally get with that hot Polish pig.
Goat 4: SHIT! I'm going to be the evisceration demo?????

There was something decadent about the whole night that made me feel slightly uneasy. Maybe it was the way the chef placed his cooked goat chops on top of the meat he had just sliced off of the 4th goat carcass. He was planning to eat the chops as soon as he finished the butchering demo.

None of this stopped me from drinking at least 2 glasses of incredible wine that was offered with each course. (of course) After the ceviche, biscuits, and soup, I asked for a to-go container and deftly deposited the remaining 3 goat courses into it. On Sunday I was glad I had. We had 3 sausage eaters: Steel, Toby, Willa. Jack Peter is not fond of sausage, so he triumphantly gnawed on the goat chops.

There are 5 people in our family, and we often have guests, so it doesn't surprise me that with every meal comes one grump. Tim doesn't like my willingness to make a separate meal for the dissatisfied customer, but Tim is gone for the next 10 days, so I'm going to do as I see fit. Tonight was a New England mom triumph. The end of the pot pie went to JP and Steel. I ate all the leftover beans and broccoli for lunch and finished the super-old red sauce and pasta for dinner. Toby had the leftover peas and an omelette. This all went down with some cukes and tomatoes and, more importantly, without drama. They had the rest of the ice cream for dessert with the rest of the stale marshmallows on top. OK, no one ate the marshmallows, but I put them in the microwave, and it was fun to watch them grow, so I still got rid of them.

I have a refrigeratorial clean slate. I am fantasizing that I will make EXACTLY the right amount of food for every meal, so that I will not have to deal with left overs for 10 days. My poor husband is in Ireland reading this and saying to himself/me, "Babe! I thought you loved leftovers! I always make extra because you're so good at taking what's in the fridge and making it into something AMAZING!" Yes, honey, I was particularly proud of my "nachos" this weekend that had shredded chicken parmesean on them as well as black beans and cheese. I was expecting a nacho intifada, but they were gobbled up without complaints. I know I'm amazing at leftovers, but I really do prefer fresh food. Just because an emergency medical technician is amazing at resuscitating heart attack victims doesn't mean he/she wants more people to have heart attacks.

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