Gluttony Sunday

February 6, 2011

The appearance of one missing macaroon is an optical illusion; pay no attention to it.

Jaysus H. Christ on a crutch, y’all. What a bunch of gluttons we all are.

It’s Super Bowl Sunday, the nation’s ode to excess. And I’m excessing along with all the rest of y’all.

Because, well, y’see, I figured it was supposed to snow tonight. And Child B is nesting, she contends. So it did not make sense for me to go through the misery of the prep for the scheduled test tomorrow– not that the test is so bad, but the prep assuredly is — if I was going to have to either  (a) stay my ass at home, or (b) haul ass for Nashvegas, if I wasn’t going to be able to take the test anyway.

Right? Right. Work with me, here. This is a work in progress. Why do I feel like I have to make an apology to people that I am paying to run a flexible cable with a light and a camera on it up my nether regions? Screw y’all. I don’t want to do your test. I ain’t doing it. Get over it.

Anyway. I tried to cancel the appointment yesterday, when I saw the forecast and when Carebear (aka Child B) announced she had cleaned the entire house (including vacuuming the baseboards). Now, does this — any of you who have borne children — sound like nesting to you? Believe me, I KNOW this child. She ain’t never vacuumed a baseboard in her life. This birth is IMMINENT, I tell you. Imminent.

Or so I tried to tell the answering service.

“I’m sorry, they don’t pick up messages. You’ll need to call them Monday.”

They don’t pick up messages? Excuse me? Then WTF is an answering service, to which they pay unconscionable sums of money, which you and I pay for via our insurance coverage, worth, anydamnhow? I mean, gimme a break, here!

Anyway, I’ll call ’em at oh-early-thirty tomorrow, if I remember through the fog of my hangover, because, you know, it’s Sunday of Gluttony, so  I have already consumed a full bottle of red wine and opened another one. Sue me.

So. Excess. To date today, I have made coconut macaroons, amaretti cookies, chee’dip, and baby redskin p0tatos with creme fraiche and caviar.

What? You wanted something balanced, something that made sense? Get over it?

The amaretti cookies ain’t bad. They ain’t all that and a bag of chips, although I reserve judgment that they might be all that and a bag of chips with good Columbian coffee if I caught ’em on a day when I wasn’t already sated with macaroons and wine. They got potential, OK?

And then there was the infamous, redneck, trailer park, gotta have it, can’t play a Super Bowl without it, CHEE’DIP.

Chee'dip. CHEE'DIP, b'God! I'll thank you to stand up and salute!

 
You know you’ve done it. Opened that can of RoTel, cubed up that  half-box of Velveeta, got out your blender, and gone to town.
 
I’ve got to credit Carole Rash, here. It was Carole who told me, about a gazillion years ago, that if I’d put a little  cumin and a little garlic powder in that RoTel, it’d taste just like Pancho’s Cheese Dip.
 
For those of you who do not live in the Memphis-centric Mid-South, Pancho’s Cheese Dip is like, well, the Gold Standard. It don’t get no better’n Pancho’s. A bajillion Super Bowl parties across the Mid-South tonight are featuring Pancho’s cheese dip, fresh from the grocery, and you could make it yourownself, if you’d listen to me and Carole.
Get you a box of Velveeta. Get you a can of RoTel — hot if you like hot, mild if you like mild. Grab you a knife and cube that Velveeta up in about inch-square (or thereabouts) chunks. Put half of ’em in you blender or FoPro.
Put half your can of RoTel in there, too, and a good sprinkle of cumin, and another good sprinkle of garlic powder.  Add some water to make it as thin as you want it.
Repeat with the other half of the Velveeta and RoTel.
And you got you some honest-to-God, redneck, trailer-park chee’dip goin’ on here, and it is plumb GOOD, do you hear me? Do not worry about how high-class you are not looking. This is the South, and RoTel is your heritage, no matter, it’s two damn-Yankee teams playing in the Super Bowl, here.
Drew Brees, are you reading this? Go get you some RoTel, son. And come see me next  year.
Well, and then there were the potatos and caviar. This has a history.
I had some tiny redskin potatos, boiled and sliced in half, at a holiday party a while back. They had a dab or what I later decided was creme fraiche on ’em, with a dab of caviar. And I thought they were the finest thing since sliced white bread, and camped out next to them until I got embarrassed, and decided I’d make the someday.
So last year, before the Super Bowl, I did that, and had a freaking heart episode, and landed in the hospital, and had to make do with Crunch n’ Munch and chocolate covered cherries in my hospital bed with electrodes glued to my chest, and watching the game on a 13-inch screen.
It sucked.
I’m getting it right this year.
I cut those potatos in half,  boiled them with a copious amount of kosher salt, and let them cool. Then dabbed them with creme fraiche, and topped them with caviar.
And they're PRETTY, too!And I enjoyed every damn one of ’em.
I’m hoping you and y’mama are having a most excellent Super Bowl.
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One Response to “Gluttony Sunday”


  1. Yummy. These all look great! Has there been any progress in the case of the missing macaroon?

    Actually, whoever took the mising one came back and ate all the rest of them!


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