As some of you might know, my real-life bread & butter, what helps put groceries on the table job is cooking for a group of young men at a Fraternity at the local branch of University of California. This years' number is 31, w/ this breakdown: 24 omnivores; 7 vegetarians; no vegans.
I could weep out loud at from sheer happiness at this last. Although I am not required to produce a meal for the vegans, or actually even the vegetarians, I'm a Jewish Mother and it's physically impossible for me not to have something nice on offer for all coming to the table. (You will observe this high-flown sensibility of mine virtually disappearing towards the ends of the year, when I post things like" The vegetarians are all on their own.") The vegans always had me bending my brains, but the vegetarians had me in a snarl more than once too, mainly 'cause I didn't want to serve them the Same Old Thing.
The rules: No alcohol proper, meaning I can cook with it but not serve it. This is a legal and religious restriction (Per the terms of joining that branch of Fraternite et al). It is truly observed well. I have no idea what happens during Summer, nor do I care to.
That is my only menu restriction. WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPPPPPPPPPPEEEEE!
Ten "Old Boys" will have left, w/ ten "New Boys" arriving. There will be some new taste preferences to get used to, and ten new personalities. They, too will have something to get used to: Me. A foul-mouthed mama who cooks really well, takes breaks whenever I please and insists on the right to play my own musical selection or station VERY LOUDLY while I cook. By the end of the year, I'll have found something to love about each one. Kitchen Questionnaires are available for all involved and affected by the current management's unilaterally unbreakable decision on What's For Dinner. If you don't respond, you can't bitch.
The Magical Birfdayday blackboard will, as always, be employed: But damnit! Tell me a week in advance, 'cause I'm a cook, not a magician!!
I look forward to culling your ideas this year, and your recipes.
Kudos and ((hugs)) to the mommies sending their precious babes off to Kindergarten for the first times, and to the mothers kicking their eighteen-year-olds' butt out the door for their last year. And a stiff drink tonight. Or this morning, whatever.
Tonight WFD is Sliced Marinated London Broil, Stuffed Baked Potatoes, (w/ butter, milk, sour cream, chopped green onion; garlic, salt and pepper; mixed w/ beaten eggs and re-baked; garnished w/ shredded cheese, crunchy bacon and more green onion). Tiny little marvelous self-contained devils, they are. Alongside, bread and butter, green salad w/ sliced tomatoes and a well-emulsified lemon vinaigrette w/ oregano; Steamed string beans w/ brown butter and sliced almonds. And cake, because tradition decrees that on the first Real day of school, there must always be cake. And the ultra plus de nom: A do-it-your-owndamnself-rootbeer float bar. I'm sure some of you will recall how veryvery lazy I am, and that anything I can get them to assemble themselves is gravy.
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