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The Monday Morning Epistle |
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26 Nov 2007 |
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Before writing this morning's Epistle, I checked with Mary first to ensure that I accurately describe how she cooked the ham we served at our open house on Friday. After a brief discussion, we agreed that ‘jets of flame’ is too dramatic, and that ‘fireball’ is more correct. Now, before anyone starts spreading nasty rumors about my wife's cooking, allow me to explain. To feed somewhere between 50-75 guests, we decided on a very traditional recipe for ‘Madeira Ham’ that was supposedly George Washington's favorite dish. We have served this before, and it is very simple to prepare: soak a salt-cured ham for several days before removing the skin, spread a layer of butter and nutmeg over the exposed fat, pour an entire bottle of Madeira wine into the bottom of the pan, and then bake at 350° for several hours, basting with the pan juices every 10-15 minutes. Fifteen minutes after putting the ham in the oven—and T-minus 30 minutes before guests were expected—Mary goes to baste the ham for the first time and is greeted with an explosive WHUMP! and an orange ball of flame! She wasn't burned at all, and once she got over the surprise of having the oven spew fire, she called me at the grocery store to reassure me ‘Don't worry if there's a fire truck parked outside our house…everything's fine.” Everything really was fine, and the firemen helpfully suggested that we vent the oven a little more often, even though they were pretty sure that ‘…most of the alcohol fumes have burned off by now.” (No…really?) So we cautiously turned the oven back on and watched it like hawks for the next hour or so, while basting the ham every few minutes; it turned out superbly—the extra basting no doubt helped—and no one was the wiser to our first (and hopefully last) attempt at Ham Flambé. We also came to the conclusion that it was George Washington's favorite recipe because he had slaves or kitchen staff to cook it! Our Thanksgiving was also a cause for blessings, as we invited several of Alex's colleagues (and former colleagues) from Spaghetti's over for Turkey Day. I still remember my late teens and early 20's, and figured that this was as close to ‘feeding the homeless’ as we could get without requiring a permit of some sort. So Thursday afternoon, we were joined by Andy, Shawna, and Brian, all of whom clearly enjoyed the home-cooked meal and as much ‘domestic bliss’ as they could handle. Monkey-Boy was clearly smitten with Shawna, and kept asking “Where's the tall girl?”, while Andy and Mary contented themselves with giggling over scrapbooks of baby pictures and teasing Alex mercilessly. (I'm pretty sure that ‘Andy’ is short for ‘Andrea’...) Friday was our second annual ‘Anti-Turkey Day’, as we continued the Harroun tradition of holding an open house the day after Thanksgiving. Sadly, the weather turned nasty with temperatures in the 20's and bouts of blowing snow; consequently, many invitees wisely chose to pass on the festivities and stay home. Nonetheless, those that braved the icy roads to join us did their best to drink all of our German beer and Spanish wine, for which we thank them. The ham was also very popular, and several guests were delighted to recollect cured ham as a holiday treat from their childhood; one gal was so taken with the dish that she insisted on the recipe…which came with suitable warnings about frequently venting the oven! KidBit: Garion noticed the large wreath on our front door yesterday and asked me eagerly “Daddy, how long until Christmas?” When the answer was “About 30 days…”, he sighed dejectedly and replied “That's too long. How about 20 minutes?” 
PotW: Mommy helped Garion write a letter to Santa Claus and a few days later he was thrilled to recieve a reply from the North Pole…
2007.12.09-15:36 |