.:ELECTRIC VELOCIPEDE:. Nonfiction

If you are like me, and I know that you are, then cold weather is time for comfort food and uncomfortable eating. What I mean is that, while we all like the eating part, the events at which we must partake during these seasons of merry-making and festive fetes are less than perfect. You know, the office holiday bash, the neighborhood cocktail affair, and my least favorite, the family sit-down meal. And so, here I sit, letting another mouthful of that “Black ’Nana Gelatin-Mold” that Aunt Jean made (last week) slither down my convulsing throat during the first of many holiday events that take place around the long, long dining room table. And if the discomfort of a second helping of that delicacy doesn’t do me in, the disapproving glances of the in-laws over the un-ironed and un-starched napkins might.

While I squirm with discomfort and itch for the interminable dessert to end, I long to go home and cook for myself. All I want is to be surrounded with the kind of food and drink that doesn’t make you feel scrutinized and doesn’t need fussing ... the stuff that makes you comfortable with the fixing and the eating. Foods I’d be proud to serve to those who really make the season warm and bright. As I ignore yet another family diatribe on the price of gas, I slip away into visions of three courses and the bevvie I wish I had right now ...

For a starter, there is nothing as wonderful as cheese. And when I think of sharing starters for the holidays, I remember a meal I once had on a cruise ship across the table from EV’s John Klima. He told me of a top-secret family cheese spread that he makes for the holidays that sounded simply divine. He said he never leaves home without the recipe, for fear it would slip into another’s possession. Later, that evening, after buying several Jack ‘n’ Crans on the main deck, I promised a rather tipsy Mr. Klima I’d buy him two fingers of single-malt upon returning from powdering my nose. I slipped below deck and searched Klima’s cabin for that recipe .... I found it wedged in his shoulder bag between a rather dog-eared copy of Logorrhea and some small yellow booklet of scribbling by someone named Shunn. Let’s just say, Klima is not very clever at keeping the family secret hidden. Anyway, upon returning to dry land, I made the cheese spread, and it was worth the $152.60 in liquor tab that I doled out for it ... hope you will think so too. I’ve added my own instructions below to make it even better than the original.

Klima’s Family Cheese Ball
1/2 lb. bacon, browned and cooled
Cut the bacon into bit-sized bits and fry in a pan. Use a slotted spoon to transfer to a paper-towel lined plate to cool and drain.

Once cool, mix bacon with:
8oz cream cheese, at room temp
1 lb. sharpest cheddar cheese spread you can manage, at room temp
1 tsp. minced onion
1/4 tsp. garlic powder
1/2 tsp. Worchester sauce
Mix and refridge a couple of hours, if possible. While you wait, get a piece of waxed paper and grind up and place on it in a heaping pile,
1/2 c. finely chopped pecans
Once firm (or not, as time dictates) use clean hands to roll the mixture into a ball. Roll the ball into nuts and serve with crackers or pretzel knots.

My mind next wanders to seafood. It was the holiday meal of choice at home as a child. But seafood is a pain to keep warm for guests. So I created a warm dish, as comforting as chicken pot-pie, but with seafood. It has seasonal sparkle with the inclusion of white wine (most of which is left for the cook), and it is also healthier than most of these dishes because of the large helping of spinach, the absence of butter in the pie itself, and the use of light cream.

Redeeming Seafood and Fish Pie
1 carrot, chopped
1-2 stalks celery, chopped
1/2 onion, chopped
Put a couple of glugs of extra virgin olive oil in a medium pan and add cut veggies. Sauté on medium-low heat till tender.

Once the veggies are soft, turn off heat and whisk into the pan:
1/2 c. white wine
1 heaped tsp. English mustard
Juice of one lemon
1 to 1 1/2 c. light cream (or half and half)
Salt and pepper to taste
Typically, I add one cup of cream and see how much liquid I have to cover everything. Once I’ve combined the mixture with what’s below, I add some or all of the ½ cup as needed.

In a glass baking dish—at least 9x9, but larger is always better—while the veggies cook, cut up and mix together:
1/2 c. chopped parsley
1 c. frozen spinach, thawed and squeezed dry
1 c. grated sharp cheddar cheese
Enough raw seafood to reach 1 1/2 lbs., chopped into bite sized pieces: any combination of small scallops, shrimp, artificial or real crab, white fish, salmon, or lobster. (Personally, I think 3 varieties are nice to give dish interest, but you do as your palate and budget dictate.)

Once the sauce is finished, add it to the baking dish and give it all a gentle toss. Adjust cream and seasoning as needed. There should be some standing liquid, but not enough to cover and drown the solid mixture. (You’ll see why below.) While the pie bakes, the seafood will cook gently and release their juices into the pie, too.

Prepare some good ole’ mash for the top “crust” of your pie:
2 lbs potatoes, boiled and mashed
1-2 T. butter
Milk (add as you mash, depending on what you need)
2 cloves garlic
Chopped herbs like chives, parsley (to your taste: fresh is best here, otherwise, some dry is fine or skip this altogether)
Season-salt and pepper
Spread the mash in dollops over the pie. (Don’t push the mash down and drown the potatoes or overflow the baking dish ... see why you don’t need too much liquid?). The potatoes should be spread enough to completely cover the pie, but leave them rustic looking, so they brown and crisp as they bake. Top the whole mixture with a few remaining fresh herbs and freshly grated nutmeg ... this might sound weird, but SO good!!

Bake 400 degrees for 30 minutes. It will be molten-hot out of the oven, so have a drink from that bottle of wine you opened and give it a bit to cool. Serve with crusty bread.

Of course, with my belly full of cheese and seafood, there is hardly room for much more, but a sweet something always hits the spot. And at the holidays, cookies are everywhere. But the best cookies are the simple ones, made at home and served with a cuppa. I’ll admit these might seem a bit fussy, but they really are pretty effortless where ingredients are concerned. And while doing away with the three colors would ruin the effect, you could simply flavor all three layers with one teaspoon of vanilla or any other flavor you like. I just think the extra flavors in each layer give this butter cookie something extra!

Also, you could adjust the colors and flavors for other seasons (perhaps a red layer with cinnamon flavor, a green one with mint, and a white one with vanilla) and you could avoid the triangle and make your cookies into 3-colored square shapes, too.

Candy Corn Butter Cookies
3/4 soft butter (NO substitutions ... I’m serious ... it will ruin EVERYTHING!)
1/4 c. sugar
2 c. flour
Mix all three together. Divide dough in half. In one half, put 1/2 tsp. vanilla and 10 tsp. yellow and 4 tsp red food color.

For remaining half, divide dough into thirds:
In one third, put 1/4 tsp almond extract
In other 2 thirds, put 1 tsp. lemon juice and 7 drops of yellow food color.

On plastic wrap, create a rectangle of orange dough about 10 in. long and 2 in. across and 1 in. thick. On top, place yellow dough, same length, about 1 1/2 in. across and 1 in. thick. Finally, place white dough on top, rolled into 1 in. log same length as other two. (I promise, this is the last time I make you do maths) Wrap in cello and press three sides to make long triangle. Fridge 2 hours. Slice about ¼ in. and bake at 350 degrees for 10-12 minutes ... no browning. Serve with your favorite comforting, warm beverage.

And speaking of bevvies, what holiday works without these? I’m no mixologist, but I like a bit of a tipple to get through those uncomfortable holiday eating events. Here’s one I consider worthy:

Lemon Meringue Martini
1 oz. vanilla vodka
1 oz. lemoncello
Shake well with ice and strain into a sugar-rimmed glass. Toast a large marshmallow, preferably over a roaring fireplace in your cozy mansion and float it in the martini. (Warning: DO NOT toast near or in the drink, unless you’d like to char your eyebrows and countertop!) Tip back and enjoy a glorious end to a meal that will make the most of your comfort food eating experience. Far better fare than any of those silly seasonal events we’ll all be forced to attend .... which, unfortunately, brings me back to where I began my reverie.