My kind of party
I wasn't looking forward to the party we went to last night. There are always a lot of people I don't know at parties like this, incurably hip people who annoy the hell out of me. The reason we go, though, is that these parties are thrown by one of Tim's childhood friends, J, another impossibly hip person who is also a Really Good Person, and his girlfriend K.
Tim thinks I go overboard when we have friends for dinner. I spend a long time mulling over the menu, and come up with much deliciousness, including fabulous desserts we'd never make just for ourselves. Sometimes I think that our guests can be slightly uncomfortable at the amount of effort I put into things, not realizing how happy I am planning and making sumptous meals.
But this is nothing compared to J and K. They go so very far overboard that it is ridiculously fun to see what they come up with. In an "oh my god, I get to eat this food?" way, and also in a "oh no, they didn't!"
Last night there was a grill going all night, churning out charred vegetables, marinated tofu, pork skewers, flank steak, many different sausages. Out of nowhere, a skate wing appeared, just because it was on sale, and J wanted to try it.
In the dining room, there was an immense table filled with fresh watermelon and pineapple, rice, corn salsa, shish kabobs. In the living room was the bar area. All the liquor you could hope for, and a huge soup tureen filled with sangria made with blood-orange soda, among other things. In the freezer, homemade sangria baby popsicles.
Planted in the middle of the kitchen was K, standing over a deep fryer. Knowing of its presence, we brought hush puppy batter. But the dough sat next to the fryer for a few hours, while K first shaved sweet potatoes into the boiling oil, then sweet potato fries, and finally, yellow tomatoes dipped in a beer batter she whipped up on the spot.
Finally it was time for the hush puppies, and I spent about half an hour watching over them, and listening to people rave. By that time, it was late, and the drunken suggestions about what to fry next were pouring in. J got out a vacuum-sealed can of Pillsbury croissant dough. He and Tim fashioned them into circles, and golden doughnuts soon rose to the top of the boiling oil. Sprinkled with powdered sugar, I swear I have never in my life had a better donut!
Meanwhile, K was still in the kitchen, chopping rubarb stalks and warming strawberries in a pot with fresh ginger. She poured the strawberry mix over the rubarb and put it in the oven to make a crumble.
We couldn't stay for it. I was getting tired.
K's friends are used to her staying in the kitchen, and will drift by through the night to chat. It was the kind of party I've always wanted to host. To be in my kitchen all night, making deliciousness for friends who have come to visit. Yes, that's my kind of party.
Tim thinks I go overboard when we have friends for dinner. I spend a long time mulling over the menu, and come up with much deliciousness, including fabulous desserts we'd never make just for ourselves. Sometimes I think that our guests can be slightly uncomfortable at the amount of effort I put into things, not realizing how happy I am planning and making sumptous meals.
But this is nothing compared to J and K. They go so very far overboard that it is ridiculously fun to see what they come up with. In an "oh my god, I get to eat this food?" way, and also in a "oh no, they didn't!"
Last night there was a grill going all night, churning out charred vegetables, marinated tofu, pork skewers, flank steak, many different sausages. Out of nowhere, a skate wing appeared, just because it was on sale, and J wanted to try it.
In the dining room, there was an immense table filled with fresh watermelon and pineapple, rice, corn salsa, shish kabobs. In the living room was the bar area. All the liquor you could hope for, and a huge soup tureen filled with sangria made with blood-orange soda, among other things. In the freezer, homemade sangria baby popsicles.
Planted in the middle of the kitchen was K, standing over a deep fryer. Knowing of its presence, we brought hush puppy batter. But the dough sat next to the fryer for a few hours, while K first shaved sweet potatoes into the boiling oil, then sweet potato fries, and finally, yellow tomatoes dipped in a beer batter she whipped up on the spot.
Finally it was time for the hush puppies, and I spent about half an hour watching over them, and listening to people rave. By that time, it was late, and the drunken suggestions about what to fry next were pouring in. J got out a vacuum-sealed can of Pillsbury croissant dough. He and Tim fashioned them into circles, and golden doughnuts soon rose to the top of the boiling oil. Sprinkled with powdered sugar, I swear I have never in my life had a better donut!
Meanwhile, K was still in the kitchen, chopping rubarb stalks and warming strawberries in a pot with fresh ginger. She poured the strawberry mix over the rubarb and put it in the oven to make a crumble.
We couldn't stay for it. I was getting tired.
K's friends are used to her staying in the kitchen, and will drift by through the night to chat. It was the kind of party I've always wanted to host. To be in my kitchen all night, making deliciousness for friends who have come to visit. Yes, that's my kind of party.
posted by LE at 9:15 AM
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