The further adventures of your favorite family as they move back to their future in Chicago.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Your February Recipes
What with all that talk about meat earlier in the day, it reminded me we haven't kept up with posting the recipes like we should. So, again, from Ruth Berolzheimer's 1948 "Culinary Arts Institute Encyclopedic Cookbook," here's some seasonally appropriate "February Dinners":
Roast Pork and Sage Stuffing Spinach Ring Apple Frappé Celery Frosted Gingerbread Coffee
Braised Liver with Vegetables Boiled Potatoes Grapefruit and Banana Salad Chocolate cookies Coffee
Pan-broiled Calf's liver and Bacon Creamed Potatoes French Fried Oinions Corn bread Grapefruit and Cherry salad Coffee
I think the genius of the inclusion of coffee has finally been revealed to me. Honestly, those initial February dinners would bind you up like crazy. You can see why they'd cut out all the other stuff and just go for nothing but meat at those beefsteak events. And bourbon. And coffee.
I suppose much will be made of the fact that this idea was germinated in the first week of our plan to lose some weight around the Lawrence house, but if it all comes to pass, it'll be a thing well worth doing. The idea was predicated on a discussion between Brother Cale and I after reading this article about beefsteak events in New Jersey, sent to me by Mr. Brett Rooks. But the upshot is we're planning a trip -- no, not a trip, an odyssey -- to discover America's meat legacy. Not sure what that means at this hour, and I'm not sure what sort of timeline we're on, but we're going to do this, I think.
But not without your help (that being you, our audience of 6 readers, including Cale.)
Let's get your suggestions for the best places to meet meat in this Grade A US of A. Like, let's say you're from Colorado and recently moved to Chicago – where in Colorado should Cale and I go to get a steak? Or maybe you still live in MN? Besides Jax, and Murray's and Manny's where else should we go? How about the best spot for a meat raffle? Know a butcher? A stockyard worker? A great chef? A buffalo hunter? Let us know. Post to the comments or send us an email.
And then let's hit the road...the cow is calling.
UPDATE: Brett sends these additional links on the beefsteak phenomenon, both here and here.
So I'm home this morning with a very colorful version of the flu (thanks whatever I've ate or whoever I've seen in the last 48 hours!) and killing time before a kinda important phone call by watching a little TV. In the midst of an up-tempo and empowerment-focused ad for birth control pills (that also help improve your mood, ladies!) is a familiar face, at least in our home. This one: Yes, it's our old pal Karla from Hi-5, one of the girls' favorite singing and dancing shows. Now she's not getting pregnant, with her new Yaz birth control products, as seen in the commercial and on the product site: Okay, so I'm not sure there's a point to this examination...the gal's free to do what she wants and make a buck how she pleases. And that other kid from the show, the Spanish boy, he's off doing Broadway and whatever else, so I get it, these folks have to grow up. I guess, though, you never expected Yaz. And maybe that's the point. It's so empowering.
It seems this flu is empowering my "stupid" so I'll just leave you with a flu-and-birth-control appropriate menu: Baked Ham with Orange Glaze Yam Puff Creamed Cabbage Pickled Green Beans Sherry Chiffon Pie Coffee
Yup, that'll do it.
(Oh, speaking of a yam puff, here's a link to Karla's site so you can make your own illness induced judgments.)
I know, I know, you're not going to come on down here or over here or whichever way it is and visit us, but at the very least, putting up this list is handy for me, and kills about 30 minutes of this shitageously languid day. Here's the haps:
Blues Fest June 5-8 Reese's Birthday June 8 Taste o' Chicago June 27-July 6 Dave's Birthday July 5 Aidan's Birthday July 6 Air and Water Show August 16-17 Cindy's Birthday October 20
And Lincoln Square will bust out with Mayfest and Oktoberfest gatherings, I'm sure, but those folks don't have their calendars put together yet.
The most sensational, inspirational, celebrational, Muppetational...
...this is what we call the Muppet Show, our weekend discovery on DVD here on this slow moving January weekend. I have fond memories of the ol' Muppet Show as the lead in to a good Saturday or Sunday night of TV with the brothers, and it's possible it was one of the "televised babysitters" employed by my folks during their various amorous adventures (with "CHiPs" and "Dukes of Hazzard" running interference most often, but not sufficiently enough to prevent a few awkward tattling trips to discover them in their room, the lights out...)
Anyhoo, the happy Muppet memories prevailed this weekend, as did the joy of seeing Aidan and Reesie discover Kermit, Fozzie, Piggie and the rest in their prime. What a time capsule treasure chest this stuff is...great stuff with Steve Martin, Don Knotts Sandy Duncan, Mummanschanz...
The current fav of the girls, with multiple "Play it again, Daddy!"'s is the Swedish Chef:
Here's an appropriate Chef meal: Tomato Juice Swedish Beef Stew Butter Noodles Pea and Cauliflower Salad Molasses Fruit Pudding Coffee
So here's how today went. Up, early, shower, iron shirt, cufflinks on, out the door, ready to roll for this meeting. Hoof it over to Penn Station, meet colleague. Blah blah blah, work sucks talk, and then, whoops! missed our intended train to take us to Pennsylvania for a client meeting. So colleague and I run around midtown Manhattan trying to find a car rental location that doesn't materialize. Back to train station. Buy tickets to Philly, board train, arrive without incident. Wait half an hour, get another train to Exton, PA, where client is located. I assume colleague has arranged the details of this trip. She is a good person, but she has not. Exton train station is essentially in the middle of a field, no cabs to be had as colleague expected. Call a car service, go to client, blah blah blah, nice chat, blah blah, thank you, come again. It's now 1230 EST, time to kill until 2:07pm train back to NYC. Wander around a Babies'backwardsR'Us because there's nothing else to do. Cab to train station. 2:07pm comes and goes. Guy in the Eagles jacket announces he works for Amtrak, calls buddy, buddy tells him train is running an hour late. Stand around like a dingus on train platform in fuckville Pennsylvania for an hour. Train arrives (from Ohio, but it may as well have been fucking Calcutta, the way folks are sprawled all over the seats on board), get on, train makes up for lost time, arrives Penn Station in NYC 5 minutes after originally scheduled arrival, approx. 5:10pm. My chartered car was schedule for 5:15pm, so I exit Penn Station, walk 10 feet, spot my car, off we go to LGA. Bonus at LGA - plane check in ON TIME at ticket kiosk for 7pm departure. Not so when I get to the gate. Now an 8:48 "wheels up" time is promised. With some luck they move that forward a bit, we board plane at 730pm EST. Then they leave us on the tarmac for an hour. Finally, plane takes off. Worst. Air. Turbelence. Ever. The entire 2 hours. The girl ahead of me throws up. The lady behind me does. I'm stuck in the middle seat between some gal I don't even know what and a dude reeking of booze, who removes his shoes and rubs his feet on my legs accidentally more than I'd care to have happen from a guy what looks like a wooley mammoth. Flight continues, I get ready to vomit. No vomit. No vomit. Okay, no vomit. Then the in flight "movie" is an E Network True Hollywood Story about Dolly Parton, which turns out to be more captivating than you'd expect. Which they cut off in the middle of it, as plane is "landing." Or more like going though a final half hour of really amazingly awful turbulence. Finally, the fucking thing lands, and I'm all "Thank you Jesus, Allah, Jewish guy, Tom Cruise, whoever." And then they roll us right on up and out past all the gates. Turns out they're full. So we sit in the plane parking lot for another half an hour. At which point, the Whiskey Mammoth with the stocking feet turns to me and says "They better let us get up and move around soon...I have a prostate problem." At which point the seatbelt light "bings!" off, and he gets up and beelines it for the can.
And that was my day. Enjoy the menu for sturdier stomachs: Avocado Cocktail Salad Duck with Sauerkraut Carrot and Celery Soufflé Hot Mince Pie with Rum Sauce Coffee
Despite the Elvis fabulousness (he's 73 today, apparently), today was still fairly craptacular. Or was until I got the call from Reesie -- she made her first pee pee on the pottie! Woooooooo! This may not be big news to those of you with more trendy hipster concerns, but honestly, as one more stepping stone towards never having to change diapers again, well, that's one heck of a present! Alowwwwww-ha!
I forget how old he is today, but older than I was when this photo was taken back in 1994:That's me on the left there (if there was doubt) just prior to my 5th place (out of a field of 30) finish in an Elvis impersonation contest held a Dick's Last Resort in Chicago. The top 4 were professional impersonators. I was the only guy that sang. Hunka-hunka-me.
Here's an Elvis-appropriate birthday menu: Hawaiian Baked Pork Baked Sweetpotatoes Creamed Celery Green Beans Cranberry Nut Cobbler Coffee
Wow...that was surprisingly more revelatory and Elvis-appropriate than I would have thought when I picked it. Regardless, eat up, Elvis, and happy birthday.
At times we here at Lawrence's Chicago-a-Go-Go have written of the eerie and powerful forces what command the cosmic karma of the universe, like the way the ol' iPod frequently knows just the right song to play for that right moment in life, or the way objects levitate and float about our house whilst a voice shouts "Get out!!!" What then to make of today's "mystery of the unexplained" -- not one, but both, of our cars have died of mysterious electrical failure? Could it be me badmouthing the jackass electrician via our website? Could it be squirrels gnawing on cables? Gnomes? Plague? A flood? I swear to God it's not my fault...
But dead they both are. Well, not quite quite dead (full Spamalot musical number follows somewhere...) The Jetta is toast. The Jeep lumbers on, but no speedometer or brakes. Good stuff. Looks like I know where my imaginary Christmas bonus will be going.
To celebrate today, here's a thrifty, frugal and fun January menu from that big damn Enclopedia of food I was talking up yesterday: Liver Dumplings in Beef Broth Sun Glow Salad and (wait for it...) Coffee!
So, vacation's done. It's been one hell of a nice break though, and much needed. I don't know if you all have been following along, but since the first week of October 2007, I've been working 4 days a week in New York, finishing the week in Chicago, a total of no less than 90 hours a week (waaah). It's been a heck of a burn, and hard being away. And that last week nearly did me in. Still, with the help of my pal Brett Rooks and a few visits to both the Mulberry Street Bar and Otto's Shrunken Head, we were able to coast on into the holiday break, which I insisted started back for me on the 20th of December.
Good timing, too, as all of the Bruce-Lawrence-Lawrences showed up on the 21st (here some of them are practicing ballet in our living room:So that was lovely and fun and everything you'd expect when the brothers get together. But the whole gang cleared out by Christmas eve, allowing us to have what was really our first Christmas just to ourselves as a family since, well, uh, ever! Turns out Santa was timely, and the pickings were well received:As the picture suggests, Christmas dawned bright and sunny, and while Aidan was a flash of little feet running through the house, waking us all with her excitement, Reese took her own sweet time getting up, failing to respond to even Aidan jumping on her bed to wake her. Reese is cool like that, as she demonstrated later that afternoon when we rolled on down to Chinatown for lunch:Still, there was plenty of time for household projects, like this painting project in the office: The electrician only showed on the very last day of vacation to partially finish the job we've been waiting on for 4 months, and chased us out of the house for the big cutover of the power. More on that in a moment...
Of course, there was also time for catching up with old friends and much loved/missed family members. Just prior to Christmas, the girls and Cindy and I caught a ride on "the Polar Express," or what the Park District assured us was a close facsimile. For his part, Santa did show up and didn't freak out the girls this year:For her part, Aidan was deeply disappointed to learn that the Polar Express that we were on only took us down to the Loop station in Chicago, and not all the way to the North Pole as the Chris Van Allsburg text had previously assured us was the Polar Express' final destination.
And we got to catch up with my cousin Sarah Lawrence, who was in town performing in Phantom of the Opera, and with her husband Cal, who joined us for breakfast a few days ago. Quite the production, that touring Phantom company. Sarah gave us the guided tour of the backstage world, and we got to catch the performance, which I was frankly unprepared for how much I enjoyed it beyond my cousin's performance. Really amazing stuff, actually. Here's a look at Sarah in action (she's the "girl," and not the goof with the head makeup): Yeah...Sarah's pretty awesome, as is Cal. Nice to see them both.
On the whole, my vacation was a deeply restful time, from start to finish. Our house is finally mostly put together. I didn't have to think about work for 15 whole days. And we've even thought about menus for the year ahead with a little help from our electrician. With six hours to kill yesterday whilst he worked on the main power cutover from the old deadly circuit box to the new service, we drove around the northern suburbs, stopping at toy stores to distract the girls and a few antique stores to distract us with assorted knick-knackery. Found a belated birthday gift for brother Cale -- a little something from days gone by that show the people of yesteryear may have been more mechanically advanced than we might have suspected, now winging its way west. And then, of course, the first edition copy of Ruth Berolzheimer's 1948 opus, The Culinary Arts Institute Encyclopedic Cookbook.
It's a hell of book, at least a coupla pounds worth of book, with great typography, stunning illstrations, horrible photography and thousands of recipes. I've really only started to mine its treasures. Still, one of the immediate gems is the "dinner menu suggestions," presented in a convenient month by month fashion. Maybe I'll try and share one a day...there's at least a year's worth. Of course, since I'm a few days behind, let me share a few ideas for you now:
A New Year's Dinner Goose Liver Canapés Roast Goose with Apple Stuffing Orange Sweetpotatoes Glazed Onions Chicory with French Dressing Cranberry Refrigerator Cake Coffee
Not happy with that one? There's others! Like: Pineapple Juice Ham Omelet Bran Muffins Rum Parfait Coffee
Hmmm...that may be a breakfast options. From the next page over, here's a few "luncheon suggestions:" Welsh Rarebit on Toast Cabbage Salad Baked Apple Pfeffernüisse Coffee
Meat Pasties Broccoli with Cheese Sauce Tomato Chutney Molasses Fruit Pudding Coffee
Well, there you go! Four easy, complete meals for you ladies to whip up to start your year right! (What, like men are going to be cooking meals at home in 1948?) One thing...make sure you've got plenty of coffee. Going to be an exciting year!
The evening with our friends had been a delight and a success, so when I woke to hear Aidan cying in the next room, it was a shock and a disappointment. Still, I walked down the hall to her friend's room where she was sleeping (a big girl NYE's sleepover!) expecting to see tears and ready to comfort her. But she was sleeping like an angel. And the howling cries continued.
It was then I remembered the coyotes Reuben and Kathy had mentioned earlier, the ones their daughters called to each night before bed. I've heard coyotes before, snurfling outside the tent camping in the U.P. with my dad, but you don't expect a pack of 'em in suburban Chicago, just down the road from the mall-and-chain-store paradise that is the nearby stretch of Randall road. But there they were, hooting and calling and resoundingly welcoming in the new year.
It's a good m.o., and perhaps a challenge for the year ahead -- leaner, hungrier, louder. Time will tell. Thanks R+K for a great night. Happy new year to all. The girls give a few hoots and howls out the back door to the suburban coyotes 'round midnite to welcome in 2008.
