Cheating With Side Dishes

Posted byrandy@letters-to-rachel.memorialPosted inUpdates From the Abandoned PlanetTags:, , , , , ,

Dearest Rachel –

Considering our interpersonal vocabulary, I’ll bet you saw this title and thought the topic might be a little salacious, no? And maybe I’ll touch on that in more detail later on, now that I think about it (or not). But for the moment, bear in mind that today is Thanksgiving, with all the attendant preparations, and I thought I’d tell you about my adventures in doing my part, such as it is.

Sure, this is a day to stop and count one’s blessings, I suppose – and it’s not as if I don’t have plenty of them. Family, friends, finances… honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that I’m still missing you (and haven’t found anyone who might take over that role in this house and my life), I would be forgiven if I were to say my life is almost perfect. But you’ve heard enough from me on these subjects to already know most of those details, I think. Besides, perfection doesn’t make for good – or even interesting – stories. So let me tell you about my attempts at cooking, such as they are.

As you know, Daniel isn’t much for turkey. Between the white meat being too dry and plain, and the dark being too… you know, I don’t recall what his issue was with dark meat, although I admit I’ve never been a fan of it, so I’ll give him a pass on that opinion… anyway, he generally fills his plate with the side dishes. And since it’s Mom who’s dealing with the bird, in any event, it’s incumbent on Jenn and me to provide them.

The thing is, while I’m perfectly able to slap together the bog-standard green bean casserole, it doesn’t seem all that sufficient, in terms of a contribution. It’s so traditional as to almost be boring in itself – and the fact that it’s just a matter of throwing the beans (which I can steam in the bag before doing so) into a casserole dish along with cream of celery (not mushroom, as Daniel objects) soup and milk, plus a fair helping of french-fried onions (with an equal measure of the last reserved for the last five minutes in the oven), it’s so simple as to almost feel like cheating, when it comes to preparing this.

It doesn’t help that, since I’m no longer preparing a bunch of mushrooms for stuffing (which, despite his aversion to them in the casserole, Daniel is more than happy to eat on their own; go figure), it feels like I’m not doing my share for the table today.

Not that I’m not bringing mushrooms at all, though – I went and got a couple of packages (a dozen or so in all) stuffed with spinach and artichokes cheese to serve as appetizers instead. Again, since they’re prepackaged – all I have to do is stick them in the oven for a few minutes – it’s still too easy.

So, since I got it into my head the other day, and I gave it a try preparing the stuff last weekend (and it worked pretty well, although it might have been spicier than my family would enjoy, between the seasoning and the chorizo – not that the latter is part of creole cooking, so taking it out of the mix is an easy solution), I decided to whip up another batch of dirty rice to go along with the casserole already on the table. And while I’m told there’s a rule to never experiment on Thanksgiving, when else am I going to prepare multiple side items for a meal to feed a small army?

For what it’s worth, though, I’m going with the more traditional approach, when it comes to making the stuff – it’s just that it isn’t our tradition. Normally, the rice is mixed with the heart, liver and gizzard – bayou folk of old couldn’t afford to let any part of the animal go to waste, if it could be eaten. And while I suppose it’s more traditional up north here to include those in the stuffing, I don’t know if Mom ever did that as part of her preparations. Just in case, though, I asked her if she was going to use them, and if not, I could put them to reasonably good use.

Although, I’m not going to lie; when I unwrapped these this morning, I found myself wondering what I’d gotten myself into.
But I dutifully chopped them up and put them in the food processor…
…and after a minute or two on the ‘grind’ setting, they looked like pretty much any sort of ground meat. Maybe a little too fine – it was more like pate than ground beef or something – but it’s not like I could ungrind the stuff at that point.
It also didn’t seem like enough in terms of meat, so I got out a few andouille sausages, and sliced them up for browning, as well. They’re made of chicken, so it’s still all poultry.
…although now, there’s a lot more sausage than turkey innards. Eh, I’m sure it’ll be fine…
I mean, it doesn’t look all that terrible, now that I’ve browned it, and tucked it away in a container to bring over.

And in case you’re wondering why I’m not finishing things up here and now, it’s only nine in the morning. No sense getting it all together, and having to reheat it in the microwave, when I could just do all the stove work when I’m there, more or less at the same time that I’m baking the casserole (the mushrooms I can do earlier, since they’re meant as an appetizer).

Speaking of which, I suppose I need to throw that together, too. Again, since everything is prepackaged, it’s not like anything is all that difficult, or special.

Why, the recipe is actually written right on the box of french-fried onions. But you’ll notice how it calls for four cups of beans…
…while the beans themselves come to less than three cups per bag (2/3 cup per serving times four servings equals 8/3, or two and two-thirds cups; who says you don’t use math as a housewife?). And while I did get a second bag because of this, I only need half of it (one and one-third of a cup) in order to follow the recipe. We haven’t even left the house for the folks’, and already I have Thanksgiving leftovers!
And while the instructions on the onion container don’t specify, I’d assume the milk it calls for is probably supposed to be more like whole or at least 2%, while all we have is the 1% you got me to settle for (you never could convince me to consume skim). So, in order to thicken it up a bit, I’m throwing in a little sharp white cheddar cheese. This probably means that Will won’t eat any of it, but I have a hard time seeing him tucking into the vegetable dish in the place.
The second bag, I just dumped into a spare container. As you can see, I’ve removed the half that was still needed for the casserole.
It was at this point that I realized I screwed up (although you might already have noticed what I should have done); I was supposed to mix the wet ingredients (the soup and the milk) before pouring in the beans and onions. Oh well, I’m sure that, with a little judicious mixing, no one’s going to know if I don’t tell them.

And sure enough, no one did; in fact, it completely slipped even my own mind until now that I’m back here, wrapping all this up for you.

I won’t say any of these were exactly a ‘hit’; we’ve got leftovers of everything we brought (as well as the mashed potatoes Jenn brought and had no desire to keep, as they’re traveling with the Wheaton football team to their next playoff match this weekend. Maybe Logan will want to make latkes or something), but at the same time, there were a few pleased comments, including from Kerstin (which might be a story for another time, if I ever think to write about it – or maybe that’s more hers to tell than mine).

I’ve no idea how to wrap this up, honey, other than to remark on how it’s dark and unusually late for a letter from me, so I’ll just finish with my usual sign off: keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck. Even if I have no intention of going out Black Friday shopping, I’m still going to need it.

Published by randy@letters-to-rachel.memorial

I am Rachel's husband. Was. I'm still trying to deal with it. I probably always will be.

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