A big thing on my bucket list is seeing the bonfires on the river on Christmas Eve. Since it is just Tom and me these days, it seemed a ridiculous idea to drag him to this, especially on such a cold night, but it was still a serious consideration. Another thing I contemplated for Christmas Eve was a quiet dinner with roast prime rib and mashed potatoes.
Our course for the evening was set about midday, when a noise from a downstairs bathroom caught my attention. I had been very good the past two days dripping water from all sources, but no one specifically told me to do hot water too. I called my brother, cause guys just know what to do about these things, and he told me if the hot water was loosening up to run it there as well. The noise sounded horrible, and I investigated outside.
Under our raised house was such a shower, it seemed as if water was coming from every pipe in sight. I called my daughter’s boyfriend, who is a plumber, and he came over to fix it. But until he got there, I wasn’t going anywhere.
I had shut off the main line to the house, so there was no water. But there were two gallons of Abita Water from Ida, that I saved just in case. It was this that I used as water to prepare dinner camping-style. The bonfires would have to wait another year.
Earlier that day I bought a two-bone rib roast from Fresh Market. The $5.77 lb. price Rouse’s was advertising got me thinking about an Old English Christmas dinner, but when I mentioned it on the radio show (airs weekdays 2-4pm 990AM) I was cautioned to go higher in price for a better grade. Made sense, so I chose the Fresh Market’s $10.99 Choice beef.
The price of $38 shocked me, but I brought it home anyway. Such a little thing!
I studded the roast with smashed garlic cloves and coated it with coarse sea salt and cracked pepper. It went into the oven to broil. I wished I could remember the discussion about the best way to do this from the show, but I was too distracted anyway. It was done the way my mother did it.
Meanwhile, I worked on the sides. One of the things I planned to make as an appetizer for Christmas Day was potato skins like the old TGI Fridays. I baked a few potatoes and scooped out the center, planning to convert these innards to mashed potatoes. My daughter was highly skeptical of this plan. I proceeded with it anyway. also making some Lyonnaise potatoes.
The cold potatoes did not want to cream with the cold cream. I dropped the remainder in boiling water to heat up to make the mixing easier. This worked, and the hot wetness of the potatoes made this project possible. I dropped some butter in this fluffy pile and it immediately melted. My daughter still thought the consistency disturbing, but she liked the taste.
I also did some creamed spinach, holding up Keith Young’s version as a goal. Checking Ina Garten’s recipe, I noticed that it also had a bechamel sauce, something I incorrectly viewed as superfluous.
There was butter which I used to wilt scallions, to which I added cream, then spinach, and a lot of grated Parmesan. It tasted fine but looked like it had mushrooms in it. It looked, well, dirty. And I didn’t chop the spinach, so it was sort of a mess.
No matter. When the rib roast looked crusty, I took it out. We pulled a red wine from the “cellar” and had a nice quiet Christmas Eve dinner. I even brought out the plaid Christmas tablecloth and used our wedding china for its inaugural use. (Seriously.) And amidst the broken pipes, bitter cold and general chaos, it was a lovely Christmas Eve dinner. Our daughter stayed to eat since her boyfriend went out on other emergency calls.
On Christmas Day I awoke early to prepare dishes for the holiday dinner at my niece’s lovely home. Just a few days ago I read an article about inflation, and the question was posited…At what point do you say no?
That point was reached for me the following day when the person at the deli counter at Rouse’s informed me that the little ball of Chisesi ham would be $82. Another person behind the counter said they will reduce the price for a whole ham, but the manager said no. So I said no, and finally bought the bone-in ham I wondered about presenting at a holiday table. One that Martha Stewart, my nemesis, might serve.
I had no idea what to expect when I peeled away the cloth wrapper on this pig’s haunch. I was immediately stricken with trauma at having to butcher this thing. A Chisesi ham doesn’t resemble a pig. It looks more like a small soccer ball. I was troubled to have to deal with this animal part.
When I looked closer I also feared it would taste European. Like an animal. It looked like something that had been cured in a barn in the 1700s. Oh, why didn't I just spring for the Chisesi? I was in it now, though. It was beautiful, but covered in a thick layer of fat. I had to really work on this, cutting my fingers in several places.
Finally, it was trimmed enough to prepare it with the brown sugar and root beer glaze. It went into the oven. I only turned it once because it was quite a feat. Without using a meat thermometer, it was clear when it was done. The meat separated from the bone.
When it arrived at the Christmas dinner, I started slicing it. A thing of beauty, I was curious about the taste. It was definitely more sinewy than Chisesi, and much saltier. The fat around the bone came off in a crusty shell.
Opinions varied, but everyone registered salty. It wasn’t consumed in any way like the usual Chisesi. I brought home most of it.
There is a large haunch of pig sitting in my refrigerator, and I will be sawing on it for a while. Naturally, I will not waste it, but much thought will be given to avoiding that. And next year, the prodigal cook will return to Chisesi, which will probably by then be $100.
