How to Horrify Your Dinner Guests

Because of my upbringing, I take Halloween very seriously.

When I say "my upbringing", what I mean is this: my childhood house turned into a crypt for the entire month of October and part of November because my mother takes Halloween very seriously. Our front yard was a cemetery. Our windows were blockaded with ghosts and warning signs. Navigating the spider webs in the hallways became an important skill. There was a fountain of blood in our dining room. Doorknobs turned into monster hands. Am I painting enough of a picture for you? Every year my parents threw a balls-out, lavish, enormous Halloween party for 100 of their closest friends. I've decided it's my responsibility to uphold this tradition, albeit on a slightly smaller scale in my adult life. In that spirit: a little Halloween party food porn:

The Godfather - Redux

*Ed note: This post was rescued from interweb purgatory by Marc Balgavy. For this feat of courage he'll receive a whiskey when I see him next.*

Okay, you guys. It's time to talk about it. Well, almost. First, let's talk about how things sometimes take you by surprise. How, sometimes you think that prunes are sort of gross and you don't care about them, and then someone changes your mind.

No one has ever asked me to steam a prune before. Quite frankly, I don't steam much and the recipe for Bacon and Prunes, Baked (Hot) made me realize that I don't really even have a proper steaming basket.

Prelude to a Gut-Bomb

The sun is shining. The temperature is allegedly rising. Soon, you will be invited to a lot more let's-get-together-and-have-a-drink-on-the-roof type things. Let's talk about what to bring. Cold, petite, brightly colored little bites are my personal preference. Especially if what you are eating for your main course is (as was the case a few weeks ago at some dear friends') a gut-bomb of epic proportions.

Let me be clear, the thing we ate for our main course was likely one of the most delicious things any of my friends has ever fed me. It was, however, like a prehistoric ancestor of the Bacon Explosion that none of us can forget. I promise to tell you more about this later, but for now, let's talk about complementing your friends' ritualistic torture of your arteries with some things that are dainty and refreshing.

Here's Where it Gets Weird

So far, I've been going easy on you guys. I've tried to pick things that are mostly accessible to our palates and our times. Here's where it gets weird.

We've arrived at the the texture my Sidekick dreads the most: JELLY.

Ugly Duckling

Suddenly, all I can talk about on Friday is what you should make for breakfast over the weekend. Today, I realized that I don't really have anything breakfast oriented to talk about. Or do I?

Here's the question: does the idea of making raw bacon and cheese force-meat repulse you? I mean, by all accounts it should. It sounds and looks pretty gross. But there is just no way you can get the bacon to get so cheesy, or the cheese to get so bacony without doing so. I used my food processor for this because, as I noted to my Sidekick, who was already making me a third cocktail, "She keeps calling for a meat grinder because food processors didn't exist." Don't get me wrong. I have a meat grinder. But drunk food processor use somehow seemed safer.

Learn to Steal

Sometimes I run out of ideas. Sometimes, I feel like I make the same soup, stew, roast, braise in different variations over and over again.

 

And then sometimes, benevolently, someone will invite me to dinner at their place and inadvertently give me something to steal. Which is exactly what happened when some of our dearest friends invited us over for a Feast of an Indeterminate Amount of Fishes.

Leekfest 2010

Oh, you guys. Don't get sick. Just don't. It screws everything up. Including writing about insane cooking projects you endeavor upon with your friends.

Leekfest 2010 was one of those endeavors. It began innocently enough, when my friend mentioned she was confounded by leeks.

Conversations with My Husband About Dinner: The "DUDE, there's still three weeks till Thanksgiving" Edition

12:24 PM me: I'm thinking about Thanksgiving.

 Sean: HA!

 me: I know.

 Sean: Ok.

12:26 PM What are you thinking about Thanksgiving?

  I mean, it's not shocking that you are.

 me: So, Ashleigh and Mo and her mom will be here.

12:28 PM I know that our place is not totally conducive to entertaining a ton of people, but I thought maybe a small group of us would be pretty cozy. Do we have any other orphans?

 Sean: Not sure.

12:29 PM me: Is that crazy?

  I was thinking really low-key, sit on the floor casual.

 Sean: And yeah, when people are over when we're cooking, it gets a little nuts.

  After we've cooked, it's fine. But before and during...

  NUTS.

  Too small.

 me: Right, we'd have to have a lot of it done beforehand.

  Which is good for Thanksgiving anyway.

12:30 PM 

  Here's (obvy) the impetus for this line of thinking at all:

12:31 PM I'm going to start experimenting with making my own green bean casserole from scratch.

  So, just prepare yourself to eat a lot of leftover mushroom soup and failed fried crispy onions.

12:36 PM Sean: HA HA HA!

  I think sitting on the floor and eating is good.

12:40 PM me: And, I was also thinking of maybe saying fuck you to roasting a whole turkey and doing braised legs and maybe roasting a goose or something instead.

12:42 PM Sean: Hell yes!!!

  Turkey sucks!

  It's my least fave part of it all, to be totally honest.

 me: I love turkey, but I ALWAYS want dark meat.

12:43 PM Sean: Fair.

 me: Which is why I was thinking of legs only.

 Sean: Perf.

 me: One for each person, like cavemen!

12:45 PM Sean: HA!

12:46 PM Yes!

  Brussels sprouts.

  Mashers with red chile.

  Or green.

  The bean thing.

  And people can bring the rest.

 me: That's what I'm thinking. Stuffing will be involved.

 Sean: And I'll be drinking whiskey all day.

 Sean: Ah, yes.

12:47 PM The leek bread pudding? (Dear reader - in a forthcoming entry: LEEKFEST 2010)

 me: Red chile mash is all I want to eat.

 Sean: HA!

 me: OOOOH.

  Maybe a little less eggy, but YES.

 Sean: HOLY FUCK, DO WANT.

Robin Hood... for food nerds.

The reasons that Eric Ripert is my largest food-nerd crush are varied and abundant. The first is his mushroom broth recipe, which I will interpret for you now: 1lb of mushrooms, bunch of water, cook for eternity until it turns a rich golden color and smells like Earth and happiness. The second, his symbiotic, unlikely friendship with Anthony Bourdain. I've just discovered another one.

On 'Avec Eric' (which I just discovered thanks to Eater), Ripert has instituted a kind of pan-internet monthly dinner party focusing on the freshest and the simplest. I have already decided to participate, without even viewing the November menu (which will be published on the site on 10/27). Who's in?

Blurry, badly lit food photos will ensue, I'm sure (Mitch will back me up on this).