This took place last Saturday night. When Tammy's situation got more critical late in the week, I'd written the group to warn them we might be no-shows. Their reaction was a collective "we hope you can't come", because of course that would mean Tammy was still here. Saturday morning I was too blue to even consider it until the morning wore into what looked like a long, empty day of wall-staring and I realized that all four of the other couples are childless and pet-crazy just like us. What better place to be? Around noon, I sent a message saying, "Unfortunately, we'll be joining you."
I'd been released from any obligation to prepare or bring food, of course. And I didn't feel the least like cooking--I for sure didn't have the time to make the tater tot and goat cheese ravioli I'd dreamed up (with a Cheez Whiz sauce). I told Bob maybe I should try to think of a way to make a sophisticated version of Howie's idea: just saute Vienna Sausage in Welch's grape jelly. How would you do that, he wondered. I don't know, I answered, add vinegar and garlic? Doesn't sound like much of a conversation, of course, but you've got to picture these two broken-hearted adults sitting side by side on a sofa staring at the wall, not each other, speaking in low, lifeless monotones with long dead-zones between sentences. Finally, Bob said, "Sounds good. Let's go to the store."
By the time we got there, my creative side had woken up a bit and I had a new idea: what if I 'made' Vienna Sausage out of some deli knockwurst? I had these cute little tiny canning jars just about the right size. So we wandered the aisles looking for more inspiration. I bought frozen peas and carrots and a loaf of the cheapest white bread the store had for toast points: $1.29. When we got home, I cut the knockwurst into one and a half inch lengths and then simmered them with wine, chicken stock, bay leaves, juniper berries and cloves, until the broth was flavorful and the cut ends of the sausages were rounded. I then stuffed four into each jar and turned the broth into an aspic, which I poured over with all the spices and set to chill. Separately, I mixed the peas and carrots with capers and a mayo-lemon dressing to mimic Miracle Whip. I had planned to serve that with plain toast, but before I was done it occurred to me that I had enough stuff on hand to make a pimento cheese. Mind you, I've never so much as tasted pimento cheese, but that was good because I had no borders about what it should be. Bob, on the other hand, growing up in the South on the commercial version, which he despised, had very firm ideas about what it should NOT be! So I mixed Tillamook cheddar, mayo, roasted onions and charred red cocktail peppers for the basic flavor and then stirred in habanero Melinda's XXXX and a lot of chopped pepperoncini for attitude. I took five small rectangular plates and served each couple a shared appetizer trio: pea and carrot salad, home-made vienna sausage and three square little pimento cheese toasts. Wouldn't make homemade Vienna Sausage again (it tasted good, but WHY?) but Pimento Cheese, at least made my way, has a place in our future.
When we got to the party, everyone was outside on the deck. Our hostess was wearing a sparkly black dress under a bath robe, and her husband Rich was bare chested in a black leather vest. Nothing says fun like a bare chest and a black leather vest! A bowl of Cheetos was on the appetizer table along with a fine pate made by one of the guests and stuffed into a SPAM can. To go with that, Ritz crackers and two excellent mustards she'd also made. My course was the first sit-down course, and that was followed by Frito Pies: Fritos in a bowl topped with homemade beans (from Rancho Gordo). SO good. I would have been very happy to eat a second helping of that and skip the rest of the meal. They had wanted to serve this in individual little Frito bags, but couldn't find enough small bags of Fritos in Mt. Vernon to do that. Very clever nonetheless.
The main course items were a crock pot sludge made from tater tots, mushroom soup and ground lamb, three bean salad, and a Cola-basted ham (covered with pineapple rings and maraschino cherries). The latter was a Paula Deen recipe (only the cook subbed fresh pineapple for canned), which got extra points for the duality of topical as well as culinary tackiness.
For dessert, a vanilla pudding/pecan thing called Republican Pie. Jessamyn based this on a dessert that came to Grange pot lucks she went to as a child growing up near Wenatchee. Granges were very strong in Washington state back in thos days, and she believes the name might have simply been based on its being so rich. It would have been made with instant pudding and Vanilla Wafers back then, but of course she made her own custard and crust.
After dinner we sipped bourbon, and there I had an epiphany. I've always detested ryes based on a bad experience with Canadian Club manhattans at my first--and last--drunken office party. I was only 20, and not an experienced drinker to say the least. But Georgiann and Rich served me a rye called "Ry: 1", if I got the name right, that was DELIGHTFUL. Halfway, it struck me, between bourbon and scotch--less smokey, less sweet than most bourbons and quite sophisticated. And nothing like Canadian Club as I remember it.
Fun night. Just what we needed.
And by the way, while there I brought up Dale W's issue about 'Trailer Trash' being insensitive. Rich, of course, asserted his right as someone who grew up very poor and in a trailer in Ohio. The rest of us talked about our own down-and-out pasts--not one of us was born into money or considers ourselves particularly rich now, and most of us have actually lived in trailer at some point (including moi). So we all ended up agreeing that 'Trailer Trash' is like a number of other terms that are best only joked about from within that group.
Wish I'd thought of that for Bob. Probably would have if I'd found his mullet wig from several Halloweens back. Apparently, though, afraid I'd find another excuse for him to wear it he tossed it out. Bad Bob.
