We survived the election, Thanksgiving came and went, we’re in the thick of a crappy football season (well, some of us), and the Christmas season has descended upon us out of no where. Who’s ready for a drink?
The table is set… Decadent sides. Deep fried turkeys. Indulgent desserts. We need some libations!
It stinks. It really stinks! And yet, you keep leaning in to smell more. It’s gross. It’s really gross! And yet, you can’t look away. It tastes weird. It tastes really weird! And yet, you keep going in for another bite.
This scenario pertains to me as a kid and pimento cheese. It scared me. I wasn’t sure what it was. The stuff was bright orange. But, for some reason, I loved it. It could have been that in my mind pimentos were some magical creatures, but it was yummy and weird, all at the same time.
I’d like to think my more mature, and delicate palate appreciates the subtle nuances that make this delicacy a staple on most Southern tables. Or maybe, I just realized that it’s full of cheese and tiny little red things.
Do you ever feel alive? Like truly alive? I’m not talking about jumping out of a plane, or your wedding day, or watching the World Series from the dugout… I’m talking about those little moments.
For me it’s hiking with the boy and his dog, hearing a melody that gives me shivers, giving someone a hug and meaning it, seeing a sunrise like it’s for the first time, drinking a beer that makes my taste buds dance, smiling at someone that you can tell needed it. I bring this up, because in making this dish, I was standing over a pan of peppers and onions, and another with beer and brats, and taking in the smells, I thought, “Man, this is living.” I love those little moments, the ones that they don’t make cards about, that can’t be truly captured, those tiny, fleeting, beautiful moments. That’s why I love cooking. And that’s why I do this blog.
Sorry for waxing poetic… it’s just one of those days
Now give me the meat and beer!
It’s been a long held belief of mine that hand pies would be the next big thing to hit the food truck craze. They’re small, they’re cute, they’re portable, they’re easily adapted for the sweet or savory lover.
They also conjure images of Patti Lupone stuffing them with humans… but I digress.
Breakfast – the breaking of the night’s fast, the best meal to enjoy at all hours, the best jump in your pump for a long day, the best foundation for a day of drinking! Wait, what?
Your usual Thursday parts of wit, pith, and mirth will be played this week by beer, cheddar and weenies.
Take these three ingredients in. Let them wash over you. Now go. Make.
We did it. We survived the first week of the 2012 football season. RG3 made a lot of people in my parts remember why they ever signed on for Skins fandom. Peyton made me remember why I love him so, even in that terrible orange jersey.
And stomachs all across this great land cried out for Tums, and a week of rest.
With that thought in mind… on to the dip!
Depending on your team of choice, each year holds something different for you. For us sad Browns fans,
all most years we chalk up to “rebuilding.” For other teams, that Lombardi Trophy is so close, yet so far away. Others plain suck, but look forward to that nice draft pick. Others feel like sting of riding that middle .500. And others, believe it or not, just win!
This year, and this team of Touchdown Thursdays, we’re going all the way. No mediocrity. No buffalo chicken dip. No football decorated cupcakes. This is “put on your big girl panties, and DIG. IN. food.”
Enough with the pep talk, on to the hot deliciousness.