Are there people in the world (who are neither lactose or gluten intolerant) who don’t like mac and cheese? If there are, I certainly haven’t met them. Not liking mac and cheese is basically like not liking trees, or kittens. You may not be obsessed with trees or kittens but if someone showed you a few nice ones, you wouldn’t go, “Blech. Ew. No thanks. I despise trees. And that kitten is hideous.”
I think I may have gotten slightly off-topic. What I’m saying is, for most people, good quality, home-made mac and cheese is a real treat so adding a bit of luxury to it just makes it even better. There’s something irresistibly compelling about a highbrow/lowbrow combination, right? The cozy thing becomes elevated, and the fancy thing becomes accessible.
These buckwheat blinis have become our go-to new year’s eve appetizer – topped with creme fraiche and salmon roe, they taste as fancy as they look.
I’m sorry, did you not know that we Nerds (with Knives) are not only skilled in the art of playing video games and discussing whether the 10th Doctor was the best Doctor (answer; yes. Yes, he was). We are also fancy mother-effers.
Yup. We enjoy the finer things (she says whilst dipping a burnt tater-tot into ice cold ketchup. Organic ketchup.)
It’s true. Every once in a while we like to make something that feels extra special. Usually on New Year’s Eve, we buy a little jar of salmon caviar and make our own home-made buckwheat blinis. Now, I love caviar. It’s salty and briny and tastes like a mermaid’s dinner so one would think that the roe would be the star here. Wrong. It’s the blinis. They are so good. They have a lovely earthy flavor from the buckwheat flour but are also just a little buttery and rich. Honestly, I want to make them as pancakes for breakfast.
Crunchy, buttery phyllo shells filled with rich, smooth cappuccino cream. Make lots of these bite-sized lovelies because they will go quickly (if they even make it out of the kitchen).
I don’t know if it’s a weird inverted class thing, but I’m always hesitant to make and promote a recipe that sounds – let’s say a bit too fancy. I imagine serving it up to a family of simple Northern playwrights and gauging their reaction. Would my guests nibble appreciatively while explaining how the semiotic thickness of a performed text varies with the redundancy of auxiliary performance codes? Or would they prod at the food uncomprehendingly and declare that they remembered this town when it were all fields? It’s always in the back of my mind, that.
And then I found this recipe and thought, sod it, let’s do this.
Leftover turkey got you flummoxed? You can pretty much throw all your Thanksgiving leftovers into this delicious curry. And then invite us over to eat it.
I don’t mean to get all romance-novel on you or anything but you know that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you just know that something is right? Like it’s just the most perfect version of whatever it’s meant to be? That’s what it felt like the day, so many years ago now, when Matt said the words. Those perfect, beautiful words.
“Should I whip up a curry with the thanksgiving leftovers?”
Sigh.
Of course I said yes! I’m no fool.
We were still living in Astoria at the time, in an apartment that in all fairness can only be described as a “goat infested rat-hole”. The place was grim. It was dark all the time because there was only about a foot of space between our our windows and the building next door (although when I didn’t have cable, I appreciated being able to see my neighbor’s TV from my couch. I think we watched a whole season of The Sopranos “together”).
This Curried Butternut Squash and Apple Soup is silky and luscious, with the perfect balance of sweet and spice. A little swirl of maple-sweetened sour cream takes it over the top.
I feel like it was only a few weeks ago that every post I wrote seemed to start with me whining and complaining about how cold it was outside. Well, prepare for a déjà vu because it’s frakking freezing again and it’s not even Thanksgiving yet. Oh joy. I know it’s going to warm up a bit again before the semi-permanent winter-long deep freeze hits us but, seriously Nature, can you give a girl a break? See, one of the things about buying a lovely, hundred-year-old house is that it’s goddamn drafty. Luckily I have a dog and two cats that want to be on a lap at all times so that helps. A bit. A teeny, tiny bit. Also, soup.
Speaking of déjà vu (and soup), it was about this same time last year that we posted our recipe for Mashed Butternut Squash With Thyme And Mascarpone, which has become one of the most popular recipes on NwK. I think butternut squash is so popular because it’s not only delicious, it’s also extremely easy to cook well. It has a gorgeous, silky texture (without any of the stringiness you find in a lot of pumpkins and squash) and it also has that beautiful, vibrant color that just screams Fall. It’s the vegetal equivalent of wearing a cable-knit sweater while walking through a pile of brittle, umber leaves. It’s Mr. Autumn Man’s favorite gourd.
Look at Nerd Tips below for nutrition as well as buying and storing tips.
Note: For a vegan version, swap the bacon for smoked sweet paprika. Instructions after the jump.
This version of shredded brussels sprouts with bacon and pecans might be the perfect Thanksgiving side dish, and can be made ahead to save you T-day stress.
I admit it. I love brussels sprouts. And not just for Thanksgiving, either. I think it’s probably one of the vegetables that Matt and I make most often. Our standard go-to recipe is to split them in half, coat them with olive oil, course salt and pepper and roast them in a very hot oven until they are as brown and crispy as french fries. The only tricky thing about that method is that they have to be served piping hot, right out of the oven or they get a little soggy. Still tasty, but not transcendent.
For me, getting all the side dishes timed perfectly so they’re at the exact perfect temperature by the time the turkey is ready is one of the most stressful parts of Thanksgiving. I feel like the kitchen becomes a ten ring circus, with every burner going on the stovetop and a million things stuffed into the oven. Oy, I’m giving myself agita just thinking about it. That’s why I like to serve at least a couple of dishes that are great at room temperature. These brussles sprouts fit that bill because they are absolutely delicious hot, warm or room temp.
Are there people in the world (who are neither lactose or gluten intolerant) who don’t like mac and cheese? If there are, I certainly haven’t met them. Not liking mac and cheese is basically like not liking trees, or kittens. You may not be obsessed with trees or kittens but if someone showed you a few nice ones, you wouldn’t go, “Blech. Ew. No thanks. I despise trees. And that kitten is hideous.”
