On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
"What the heck is that?"
"Caramelized mushroom cap with nutmeg-infused bleu sheep cheese puree, according to this artfully decorated little sign that looks like a candy cane," my wife said.
"Hmm, let me try the little sign instead."
It wasn't too bad but it was a bit dry as paper products go, so I washed it down with a large swig of...
"Awwwkkkkkk. (cough, gag, cough, gag) What the..?"
"Hot cactus prickly pear cider," my wife said. "Says it's from an old family recipe."
"You mean an odd family recipe."
I'm not sure if it's just because we live in Southern California or whether it's a national movement to create the most unusual finger foods for the holidays. One party we went to had pickled chilies stuffed with couscous.
Another offered fish balls with tiny fins made from Brussel sprouts. Still another had Spam Fingers with a shallot drizzle. Sometimes I think actual fingers would be better.
"Ow," my wife said.
"Sorry." I stopped chewing on her fingers.
The first year I moved here from New Hampshire I was invited to a Thanksgiving dinner that included a tofu turkey. I don't know where you'd even hunt tofu turkeys or what kind of bullet you'd have to shoot it with to keep it in one piece like that. Do they make tofu shot that they keep on the shelf next to the buckshot and birdshot? Is there a mating call whistle?
Tofu! Tofu! Tofu! It was easy to slice, I suppose. And the hemp gravy wasn't bad. But the mashed cauliflower faux potatoes left a bit to be desired.
"Here. Maybe you can get this down without all those embarrassing sound effects." My wife handed me what appeared to be a normal slice of pizza.
Hah! I've made that mistake before. Party pizza now has to be made with cheese from some animal other than the original. No wonder California cows are happy cows. Instead of hours in the barn they now get to hang around the farm and watch the anguished looks on the goats' faces as the giant empty silver trucks pull in. I'm waiting for the trend to go to yak cheese or alpaca cheese. I guess if you spilled alpaca cheese on your alpaca sweater at the party no one would really notice.
"You've got something green and white on your shirt," my wife said.
"Grilled parsnip and zucchini dip. I swear when I stuck my gluten-free cracker in it the thing yelped."
Drinking used to be safe. Beer or wine. Maybe some gin drinks. Now, everyone wants to have eggnog, but they don't want to buy eggnog in those little cardboard containers, they want to make their own.
"Egg white nog?"
"Egg Beaters nog?"
"Ostrich eggnog? You know one egg makes two gallons?"
To be safe eggnog must now be lactose free, so they use the milk of soy or rice or almonds or some kind of seed. Soon we'll be enjoying medicinal cannabis milk in California, which will help the eggnog immensely, though it will probably increase the calcium levels in adults ten-fold.
Sangria has made a comeback. It was big during the ‘60s and ‘70s, mainly because the bottles made cool candle holders. Now it offers hosts the chance to get rid of their unused Mogen David wine and any old fruit they didn't want to throw away.
I like it when the party is catered and they have servers bringing tray after tray of little things with toothpicks in them.
"Wow, that's interesting. What is it?"
"The liver of some kind of water fowl."
"Yum. Can I just have the parsley?"
"That's not parsley. It's baby carrot tops."
Poor carrots. There is an entire generation that will never get to raise their babies, because everyone wants baby carrots in their salads. Adult carrots end up mainly in...
"Holiday vegetable cake?" my wife asked. "It's got hydrogenated cottonseed oil frosting."
"I think I'm going to slip out to the car for a minute. I've got half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich left over from lunch and a bottle of Dr. Pepper."
"What kind of jelly?" my wife asked as we slipped out the door.