Sub-Part A
Eamon and I regularly gather with a gaggle of his friends from high school. About every three months, we have a rotating dinner party for which each couple takes a turn hosting. Two of the couples live in the Milwaukee environ; the other two (including the valiant Dalys) live in the whereabouts of Chicago.
At each gathering, the hosting couple supplies the entree and, usually, a side dish. Other couples volunteer dessert, appetizer, salad.
As will be no surprise to anyone who has met him, Eamon sees this a sort of competitive event. That is, it's competitive when it's our turn to host. He could care not one fig for desserts, appetizers, and salads, which are relegated to me. But when entree turn comes around, it's Eamon's time to shine.
In the past, this has meant attempts at outlandishly picturesque meals, such as the Pineapple Juice-Can Quail (like beercan chicken, but smaller). At least I got to set the table.
This time around, he fixated on fried chicken. Not picturesque, you say? Well, imagine if its paired with mashed potatoes served in a bacon cup!?! Eamon had caught wind of this remarkable innovation via the intertrons, and had to give it a go. He experimented with several methods--weaving, encircling, toothpick, no pick--and two varieties of bacon--real and turkey, with varying results. I vote woven pig meat.
And how did our guests enjoy it? Well, in a week of fiascos (to which I've alluded here), it was no surprise that all six of our planned guests declined to attend. As a last ditch attempt to dazzle the masses, we invited Eamon's intertron buddy Andrew (founder and publisher of the notorious website Gaper's Block) and his presumably lovely but as yet unmet wife Cinnamon. I say "unmet" because, in keeping with a week of disappointments, she suffered a bout of stomach flu and could not attend.
But Andrew joined us anyway, bringing with him another culinary delight, little walnut-shaped shortbread cookies filled with a delightful chocolate fudge, purchased from neighborhood standby, Devon Market. They, and the bacon cups, were a delight.
Sub-Part B
Last Sunday, we attended Easter dinner at the home of Eamon's Aunt Kathy and Uncle Ken.
"What can we bring?" I asked Aunt Kathy.
"How about dessert," was the reply.
Music to my ears, as I love nothing better than the concocting of sweets. Citrus-scented angel food cake, I decided. A light, airy dessert, perfect for the season.
Eamon was not so pleased. "What makes it Easter??" he demanded.
It did not have to "be Easter," I replied. It's light, airy, spring-like flavor and texture would be Easter-y enough, I assured him.
To no avail. Easter-y it would be.
Behold the Easter-y goodness.
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