Deb's Lunch … and dinner and breakfast too

Last night I did a benefit for Environment for America, called Gumbo for the Gulf.

There were about 20 people. I used Susan Spicer’s recipe for duck & Andouille sausage gumbo – but I made it with chicken thighs and a local Andouille – this is Wisconsin, after all. I left the okra out, too.

I made vegetarian red bean & rice – they were a little spicier than the gumbo. I was worried about burning myself when I was browning the roux – everyone says it’s like lava. But it was the beans instead. After they were cooked, I was moving the beans off the stove with an old oven mitt, that had been burned itself and run through the wash so that the hand was nothing but a loop – that looped on the stove grate, and the beans sloshed over the top of the pot, my hand, and all down the fronts of the drawers under the cooktop, and splat on the floor. I ran my hand under cold water and no harm done. The rest was the kind of spill that took a long time to clean; had to open all the drawers and wipe the edges & use paper towel to get the beans up off the floor.

I used wrapped brunch leftovers to make a lagniappe – mushroom pastry. And sorta bananas Foster for dessert – bananas fried in butter and brown sugar, and served over ice cream.

Posted from my iPhone

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The irony of it was that it was the “everything wrapped” brunch in honor of Christo & Jeanne Claude’s June 13th birthday. Sausage rolls – sausages wrapped in dough; asparagus in filo; mushrooms wrapped in parchment and baked; eggs & spinach rolled around cheese; and strawberry spiral pie – slices from a roll of biscuit dough with a rhubarb puree filling. I must’ve forgotten to take out the trash after the last brunch – May 23 – and when I came over to drop off the OJ to thaw, there were fruit flies swarming out of it. I took the bag out, but when I came back Sunday morning, there were still fruit flies – hanging out by the giant bunch of lillies and snap dragons from the farmers market – because they’d still been breeding in the other trash can.

So I had to keep all the food under wraps, until people got there to eat it up, especially the strawberry pie.

After brunch I went to the corner grocery (it’s actually medium size, and kind of gourmet, since it’s in a foodie neighborhood – good meat counter, local produce, cheeses, wines, flowers – and it’s next door to the ice cream factory, so it always has half gallons for a decent price), and located the aisle of dreadful chemicals, thinking I would spray. After squinting at the cans of Raid and trying to decide if fruit flies were “non-stinging gnats” I bought a trap – a little plastic apple with some dope you squirted in – which actually looked and smelled a lot like sweet vermouth. One of the brunch attendees, who’s working as a bartender, had been telling me that Vermouth was great fruit fly bait. I took the flowers home, nice, might as well enjoy them while they last, took out all the trash, made sure everything was clean and dry and left the trap in the empty trash can. Hope it works.

Both Mary Corsini, my parents’ good friend and charmingly wacky, superstitious, next-door neighbor lady, and Lea Worcester, the Mary Corsini of my generation, would often have occasions when they’d invite you to come by, for a little drinkie, little snackie – basically cocktails and appetizers. When my brother lived in Minneapolis, and was married but childless, I remember some pleasant happy hours with him and my sister-in-law, and sometimes our parents, too. We’d have a martini, or gin & tonic, or maybe a beer, and olive tapenade, melon salsa & chips, cheese & crackers. Maybe some partially cooked broccoli “trees” for my mom. Nuts.

Last night I tried to arrange such an occasion. One of my friends had a birthday May 31, and I invited her and a few others that didn’t make it. I had a little too much food per the number of people. Our enjoyment was also marred by the presence of a gang of middle school girls at their most sullen and unpleasant.

I made a Cafe Flora curried lentil spread – got a ton of that still – but I think it could enrich the sauce of any other curry I choose to make in the near future – and, farther term – I think I can freeze it. I grilled 3 pitas lurking in the back of the fridge, and the three of us ate all but a few wedges. I got out some cheeses & grapes, and bought a few olives – no problem dealing with any of these leftovers. Oh, and I made apricot chutney – guess I’ll have to use it inside a baked Brie sometime.

I took a bunch of pictures, but of course, John is way better with my fixed lens than am I. Still the outdoor ones look pretty good.

Red Rose Obscured by Leaves & Grass

…. a day in May? Last post I was kvetching about it being too hot here in WI; it was in the 90s and I ran the aircon for two days, and it just seemed too early in the summer. I mean, it’s not even officially summer yet, not as measured astronomically, by the solstice, nor by human commerce, where the definition of summer is “between the days”: Memorial and Labor. It’s not like it’s never happened before – I clearly remember the spring (1991) when my family moved to Chicago, when John & Al were about 4 and 2. We had our going away party outdoors at a city park on like Friday or Saturday of Memorial Day weekend, and it was 50 and drizzley and we were all freezing. Then three days later, after the holiday, we moved in 90-degree heat.

So, even though 90-degree weather in May in WI is not unheard of, it’s still disturbing, especially in the context of all the other global environmental concerns impinging on our collective consciousness, like the Gulf oil spill, etc., etc.

Through a series of mishaps, I ended up going for a short walk around the neighborhood this morning, instead of a longer one with my best walking chum Rach. I saw this red rose, sun-washed and decided to try to take its picture.

Red Rose in the sun

Didn’t work too well, but then I was additionally struck by the fact that I was looking at roses in May – aren’t they for June? And not only does May seem too early for roses, even though some of them were still pretty pink rosebuds, almost even more were already done.

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And what more romantically melancholy symbol of the passage of time is there than a blown rose? And in May?

We had our first 90-degree day of the summer today. I made brunch for a big crowd – 21 full size humans plus 8 or 9 little kids ranging in age from about 2 weeks to 10 years. It was one of my picture-less ones, but a nice menu:

Jazzed up potatoes – Mexican fried potatoes – from Mollie Katzen, with onions, garlic, cumin & red pepper flakes, tomatoes, cilantro, black olives, and fried torn up corn tortillas, topped with a squish of lime juice & melted cheese; shirred eggs, baked with a splash of cream and chives and parmesan; custard-filled corn bread, and a really tasty gluten free version with cinnamon and green chile. I also made a big spinach salad with a red dressing, and water chestnuts, mushrooms, and sunflower seeds – with and without bacon. For dessert, fruit crumbles: rhubarb-strawberry, gluten free, with almonds & pine nuts for extra crunch, and cranberry-raspberry with regular flour streusel. Since it’s brunch, and early in the day, I put out Greek yogurt with honey for topping instead of whipped cream or ice cream.

I got home a little before 3:00, and completely forgot that I was planning on mowing the lawn. I took a bike ride to return a library book, and I’ve settled in on the couch with all the Sunday papers and cable TV shows, vampires and Treme and Tudors.

I had the last of the spinach salad for dinner, with some of the leftover egg sliced up on top and a piece of the skillet corn bread, toasted. All the custard-filled got eaten at the brunch.

I feel a little guilty about not mowing but it’s not too bad. I just might have to eat the last of the cranberry-raspberry crumble, specially because I can have it with ice cream since it’s evening now.