After, There's Laughter

Anybody besides me breathing a huge sigh of relief today? Mercy ... Christmas was fun and all that (sort of), but I admit I am very grateful it's over. Or almost over. Know what I did yesterday? I cooked. Yes. That's all. Or almost all ... I got up (not early, I am happy to report) and made Baked Peach French Toast (the instructions for which are tacked onto the end of this post, just so you know), a wonderful recipe I got from my dear friend Susan W. (thanks again darling), and served it to the family with Jimmy Dean sausage patties ... was that ever delicious! Plenty of hot, fresh, strong Folgers Black Silk coffee with Original Coffeemate (liquid variety) braced me for what lay ahead. Thank goodness there were only us and our kids (well, most of them) on hand for Christmas Day, so there was no call to be sociable.

First I had to start the pretzel salad. Sometime maybe I'll give you that recipe. It would help if you beg. It's not a complicated recipe (how could it be, with Jello and Cool Whip among the ingredients?) but there are several steps and you have to be on your toes. Luckily I was on mine ... all ten of 'em. Anyway, I baked the crust for that before putting the turkey into the oven. Our turkey was actually a seven-pound breast (turkey torso as it were) and so required under four hours to cook, and since we'd had a big breakfast and had nowhere to go, we opted to have Christmas dinner at the traditional dinnertime rather than the one o'clock thing we so often do when visiting relatives. I liked that part. More time to spend in the kitchen on your feet, cooking, while everyone else does something else! More time with your special inward Christmas thoughts. That's a good thing, right ... right? Why are you ignoring me?

Anyway, with the crust for pretzel salad cooling, I turned my energies to the creation of a sweet potato casserole. No recipe for that. Well, there probably is one in existence but I was not inspired to locate it. Just call me Julia Child. Okay! I'm lazy! I'll thank you not to snicker! I simply mashed up the sweet potatoes (from a can) and threw in an egg (minus the shell) and some brown sugar and some vanilla and cinnamon and a dash of salt, and a small amount of milk. I mixed all that up real good without measuring anything, and then threw in a big handful of walnuts. They had long been parted from their shells just like the egg, so that was nice and easy ... and then I poured that into a dish and added a nice thick carpet of mini-marshmallows. Popped the top on and set it aside.

Then it was time to ready the white potatoes for mashing later in the day, right up next to mealtime so they'd be the proper temperature. When I was growing up we never looked at a white potato on Christmas, but Northerners (like my husband) need their spuds so I've learned to adapt. Plus my mashed potatoes are rather tasty if I do say so, and they're good with turkey. While peeling them I longed for a pair of the special potato-peeling gloves I'd seen at Hamrick's for $3.98 (the ones with sandpapery palms that you just rub over the taters to rid them of their skins), but alas my gloves were yet hanging in the darkened store so the potatoes got peeled the old-fashioned way. Then the chunks got thrown into a big pan, covered with cold water, and set aside to await the flames that would later prepare them to be blended with all the fats and seasonings that would make them really creamy and delicious. This is science and this is art, y'all.

No smell says "Christmas" like a turkey baking! I had massaged its nubbly clammy skin with EVOO (extra-virgin olive oil) and a combination of kosher salt, coarse-ground pepper, and creole seasoning. Yum. Judging by the aroma, things were going well in the oven. I decided to set the table. A red tablecloth went underneath my white lace one. It was cloudy outside with a promise of rain on our humid 60-degree day, and It's A Wonderful Life was playing on my kitchen DVD. These are delightful conditions in which to prepare a Christmas dinner table, I can assure you! No snow, but in South Carolina we've learnt to do without and I must say I do not miss it. I was, however, hoping for rain because I love rain. Some had been predicted and you know how reliable weather forecasters are.

In the center of the round table but facing opposite directions so all five diners could enjoy their gaze, I put two antique-gold cherubim poised high atop dowels planted in square carved platforms, the angelic babies clutching urns the perfect size for holding two dark-red tapers aloft. The tapers were decorated at the base with sparkly red and gold fruit-and-leaf candle rings. Quite festive. Between the cherubim stands I put a tallish cut crystal candle holder (it actually looks remarkably like a vase) with its own sparkly ivy around the bottom, and flanked it with two smaller, chunky crystal tealite holders given to me some years back by my sister. I was anxious to light the candles but I waited! I waited until it was getting dark outside and almost time for dinner. Other candles in the house had been lit earlier by Erica, so the itch had been scratched as it were, and somewhere I found patience. My white dishes and Christmasy napkins made a circle around the cherubim and the crystal candleholders. The candles Erica had lit in various rooms decorated the air almost as much as the turkey in the oven. Almost.

After admiring my table for a while I realized that the pretzel salad crust had sufficiently cooled, so I finished up that dish. Like I said, several steps are involved and were I in a divulgatory mood, I might divulge them, but the details shall remain shrouded in mystery for now. Then, wielding my handy Swing-Away, I decapitated a can of whole-berry cranberry sauce (pre-chilled due to my astonishing foresight) and dumped its contents into a small square glass dish. It's the perfect size for this condiment and has its own matching top. That was easy. I put it in the fridge to stay cool, followed by the pretzel salad.

I loaded up the dishwasher with everything I'd used so far, dispensed two big squeezes of detergent, and set it humming. My daughter looked as though she could use a cup of hot cocoa and I was in the mood for one myself, so I whipped that up and drank it while waiting for things to develop further. Nothing like a shot of sugar to make you want to keep right on cooking! I think this is the part where we opened presents, which didn't take very long but it was fun. Everyone was happy and beginning to get hungry, apparently. And all this was without even a single drop of rum!

The turkey breast was ready to come out of the oven, golden brown and sizzling alluringly, so I brought it out to sit and wait its turn for my attention. Next I shredded a block of extra-sharp cheddar and mixed the shreds in a saucepan with cream of celery soup, mayonnaise, and lemon juice. I thawed a bunch of frozen broccoli florets in the microwave, arranged them in a baking dish, and poured the melted cheese-soup-mayo-lemon sauce over them. I sanded the top down real good with bread crumbs and popped that into the now-empty oven along with the longsuffering sweet potato casserole which for all I know was beginning to feel totally forgotten. I may not have bothered to learn the secrets of preparing Southern-style cornbread dressing, but I'll not do without yams on Christmas.

I turned on the fire under the white potato chunks and began getting the butter and milk and sour cream and seasonings all ready to finish them up. I carved the turkey breast and threw out all the sad gray bones. I heated butter and milk together in the microwave and added the mixture to the softened and mashed potato chunks. I threw in a bunch of salt and pepper and some Tony Chachere's, and a generous dollop of sour cream, then pureed the potatoes with my hand mixer. They turned out perfectly, the cholesterol and carbohydrates and calories all vying for supremacy. I don't know which one went home with the prize, but the potatoes sure were good. Southerners should serve more white potatoes on Christmas.

Erica got the job of arranging the Sister Schubert's frozen yeast rolls (you really should try those) on a cookie sheet, ready to pop in for browning when the broccoli and sweet potato casseroles vacated the oven. Things were clicking along nicely and I got that adrenalin rush you sometimes experience when you know all the dishes are going to come up piping hot at the same time. And voila, suddenly there it was, our Christmas spread: steaming, white, moist turkey breast slices; a mountain of cream potatoes; my mom's broccoli casserole, smooth and tangy; sweet potatoes with a bumpy, gooey layer of browned marshmallow; cold whole-berry cranberry sauce from a can; cool, white-and-red, mysterious pretzel salad; Sister Schubert's yeast rolls; assorted soft drinks or milk if you'd rather; and pumpkin pie (store-bought ... don't look at me like that; I'm no cook!) waiting in the wings to be slathered with Cool Whip and consumed as lustily as if it were heavenly manna.

Is that Sandra Lee on the phone, asking for me? Tell her I'll call her back; I'm blogging now. My true passion has nothing whatsoever to do with food or its preparation. I'm with Willy Wonka on this one ... of his special whole-meal gum he said: "It will be the end of all kitchens and all cooking ..." I'll take a case of that. Throw in a candlelight dinner with Johnny Depp and we're there.

Later we all played Apples to Apples (Erica won) and Scene It, Turner Classic Movies Edition (I won). There was much laughter, and it was raining hard outside, and we lit the fire, and the candles were still perfuming the air. Javier had endured a bath earlier in the day courtesy of Erica, and his fur was so soft under my hand as we played our games. Today we did away with about half the leftovers before Audrey drove back to Tennessee so she can go to work tomorrow. I hope she comes back for New Year's ... I think we'll have frozen pizza.

Happy New Year, y'all!

BAKED PEACH FRENCH TOAST

1 8-oz. package Philadelphia cream cheese, softened

14 slices (one inch thick) French bread (or you can use Texas Toast)

1 can (29 oz.) peach slices, drained

1/4 cup chopped walnuts (or more ... I use more)

3 large eggs

1 cup milk

1/3 cup maple (or maple-flavored) syrup

2 Tablespoons butter, melted

1 teaspoon white granulated sugar

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon vanilla

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Spread cream cheese liberally on both sides of bread slices (if using Texas Toast I then tear the slices in half). Tuck bread slices tightly into 13X9-inch glass baking dish (the slices don't have to lie flat; in fact it's better if they don't). Prick bread slices several times with a fork. Arrange drained peach slices over bread. Sprinkle nuts over peaches. In a large bowl whisk together eggs, milk, butter, sugar, cinnamon, and vanilla. Pour mixture evenly over the bread. Bake 20-25 minutes or until set in center. Serve with more maple syrup. Tres bien, mon cher, mon ami!

Comments

[Deppfest]

I've gained 4 pounds just reading that! Sounds lovely, Jen - glad your day had laughter in it, and the odd sugar rush does no harm at all!

[Jenny]

Maybe so but I intend to rush all sugar off my property in a day or two! Here's to a sugarless 2008 .. but no less sweet!