…of last night’s Feast of the Three or Four Fishes:
You guys. Oh my god, you guys. I don’t even know how I managed to pull this off. It didn’t seem like a lot on paper (original menu or the prep list) but if my boss hadn’t let everyone leave at noon yesterday, I’m not sure I could have managed this. Namely the latkes, which I will a) do in advance next year and b) make with pre-shredded frozen potatoes because who cares if it’s cheating when your regular shredded potatoes just turn a rusty shade of brown, like, immediately.
Not that anyone complained about them. They didn’t look like the results of the Smitten Kitchen recipe that bore their existence, but I have yet to meet a decent human being who will turn down fried potatoes topped in fats and salt.
I would like it noted that I deserve all of the awards, please, for creating a Christmas Eve menu made up of items that double as superlative Christmas Day brunch items. That strata? The one with sausage, butternut squash, kale, feta, roasted red peppers, and sun-dried tomatoes? Basically just a breakfast casserole. Because I just ate it for breakfast, and I feel slightly less hungover now, at least if I don’t think about the five bottles of champagne that once lived in our refrigerator. Of those five bottles, only one exists today.
So I’ve got my protein. I ate some vegetables. I had my coffee, and then my tea (made with my fancy new infuser and my fancy new loose leaf tea). I’m hydrating. I’m planning my New Year’s Day menu, which is infinitely easier because all Hoppin’ John requires is ten hours and a slow cooker.