“Life expectancy would grow by leaps and bounds if green vegetables smelled as good as bacon.” ~Doug Larson
Unintentionally my obsession with wine has abated. After years of coming home to sit down with a glass of pinot noir, I instead come home and just sit down and get stuff done. The amount that has been going on lately has left me exhausted and the whole opening of a bottle and finding a glass and then pouring it out is daunting. Really now, I wish I could find someone to hold the glass for me and bring it to my lips when needed. There is also the minor problem of no longer being able to kill two birds with one stone. The only fermented beverage sold in a grocery store is beer and though I enjoy Magic Hat, I’m not craving it every evening. Purchasing wine now requires more than one stop and there is no walking just driving and oh my god, the indolence.
Now, instead of drinking (at home. Alone.), I sleep or cook or watch “Tell Me You Love Me” and “Dexter”. I live this new exciting life that involves television and listening to Otis Redding while whisking or leaving the house (gasp!) to go to the movies. And no worries, I’ve already promised Danielle that I would start knitting after a project I’ve been working on is completed. This bodes well for what I expect to be the most excruciating winter in seven years.
I keep a word document of all the things I’d like to make. Anything that I’d like to roll around in gets highlighted but those things are becoming few and far between. This is where all seven of you haven’t run for the door after learning how damn boring I’ve become, will come in. I need recipes. These recipes can really be anything but must cater to my pescetarian needs. Which means – and I’m sure there will be tears because of this – no bacon. Please and thank you.
Eggnog; it’s not two words by the way
“Isn’t it funny that at Christmas something in you gets so lonely for – I don’t know what exactly, but it’s something that you don’t mind so much not having at other times.” ~Kate L. Bosher
In biology we were taught a lesson on fermentation. While my classmates were all fascinated by the possibilities of leaving a cup of juice out to make their very own Tropicana orange juice flavored alcohol, I was wholly unimpressed. For me biology meant cell reproduction and the formation of humans which put me on track towards a successful career in obstetrics and gynecology or perhaps midwifery if my mother got her way. Sadly, that line of work involved something like 17 years of schooling and homework and I am not really a sit down in a classroom type of person.. Nor am I person who enjoys thinking in absolutes, which is what following my deep-rooted passion of delivering babies would entail. This is how I ended up majoring in four social sciences, because I hated the fact that three plus three must equal six. Why can’t we think about it for a bit and maybe have several different answers that could all be correct? Why can’t everything be answered via loads of bullshit?
I didn’t like alcohol and that was ok because I had ten Judy Blume books to see me through the hard times like my lacking breast tissue and poor wardrobe. In time I made up for the former while the latter is still a little on the pathetic side. Before I go on another tangent about my cleavage vs. wardrobe issue, I’ll continue with my story about how I disliked alcohol and imagine my surprise when I learned that eggnog, the most delectable thing in the history of Holiday treats, had alcohol in it. No one identified what the alcohol in egg nog was so I spent years assuming that someone would dump a vat of Coors Light into my creamy bowl of love thereby ruining it forever with the disgusting taste of crappy beer.
Blah blah blah, I got some sense and literacy and now extol the virtues of grapes in their fermented form and I could write a book on the million and one things that alcohol could and should be added to just to make it taste a little better. I could also write a book composed of the world’s longest run-on sentences. But once again, I digress.
Alcohol, yes? I drink it but after several years of being so ill I thought I was hanging precariously to the threads of my short lived life due to hangover, I stopped drinking hard alcohol unless it’s Ketel One or Grey Goose vodka. I stick to wine for the most part and as of late, I pour a glass, take a sip and 10 minutes later I’m drooling into my flannel sheets. During college I learned the hard way about mixing several types of alcohol. All I’m saying is tread lightly. Sipping is the way to go once you combine brandy, rum and peach brandy. Hell, smell it and you’ll run to the nearest church basement for an AA meeting. But never fear because it’s chock full of deliciousness and you won’t even notice that you’ve consumed three types of alcohol and 800 calories in roughly 45 seconds.
The recipe is courtesy of Sheryl at Papernapkin and was actually intended for a tree-trimming event that I ended up missing because I was too busy trying not to physically harm drivers on the New Jersey turnpike. This vat of eggnog will be the first in several Holiday themed recipes. Feel free to thank me later and I’ll link to whomever posted the recipes first so that you know who to bill after your stint at rehab. Yields…um…several mug fulls of nutmegy goodness.
Eggnog:
12 eggs, separated
2 cups sugar
1 pint brandy
1/2 pint light rum
1/2 pint peach brandy
3 pints whole milk
1 pint heavy cream
Nutmeg (optional)
Beat the egg yolks and sugar together until thick. Slowly stir in the brandy, rum, peach brandy, milk and cream. Refrigerate until thoroughly chilled and pour into a punch bowl. Beat egg whites until stiff, and fold ever so gently into the eggnog. If you want to, grate a little nutmeg on top. If you take this to a Christmas party people will fawn over you, and you will be the hit of the party. And if not, you won’t care because you will be having a lovely lovely time all by your own self.