Sunday, April 4, 2010

Easter brunch, and a Sunday dinner

Easter brunch at Harley House (not part of the Harvey House, chain, sic) in Lunenburg, Mass., with the Dee family. A miscellaneous plate to start: slice of watermelon, a slice of bacon, a scoop of homefries, a scrap of fried ham, half a mini-bagel with herbed boursin, a slice of salami, and a slice of tomato. Also the last sad wrinkled wretch of a corn fritter. Then a hot dish made to order: "eggs Charleston," poached over a sausage patty with hollandaise all on an English muffin. Dessert was half a chocolate cupcake and a slice of very nice homemade cheesecake minus the bite J. stole when she knew I was looking. Also a pair of counterfeit jellybeans, meant just for the kids and regrettably just awful. During the meal, I refilled my 8-oz glass with cocktails of orange juice, cranberry and apple, three times, in varying proportion.

Back at the house, I had a mouthful of kiwi-strawberry seltzer before getting into the car with J. to stop by a carnival open for its last day on the parking lot outside the city civic center. Bleak. But we shared a can of Coke Zero.

At home at Melville, I had a glass of lightly sweetened iced tea from the week before, while continuing to watch portions of the Planet Earth documentary on the back porch while N. read and sunned herself and the cats mewled their meows. Thinking to dinner, I defrosted from old ground beef for shepherd's pie: the beef browned with onions and garlic, and seasoned with a can of tomato paste and lots of black pepper. Above this a can of creamed corn, and finally a mortary cap of just-sprouting potatoes mashed with garlic powder, oleo, milk, and salt and pepper. We baked this about half an hour -- quite good, little grease, and strong flavor. While cooking I whipped a can of cannellini beans with some Italian salad dressing and horseradish mustard for a creamy sharp dip, well-matched to Ritz crackers. I drank thirstily of diet cola all the while. Also had a piece of wheat bread with olea and DeRuijter Hagelslag. Dessert was an apple knobby cake. I sliced three heirloom apples which we'd gotten in December from Allendale Farm, the same day we picked up the Christmas tree. This combined with the two cups of shredded apple I found in the freezer (remains from juicing for cider in the days following the great apple picking trip we took to Honeypot Hill on my birthday) made enough for a nice firm cake, with white sugar and just a single egg, and baking soda and spices and flour and a splash of the apple pie-flavor liqueur Jennifer Z. gave us for Christmas.

While rummaging in the freezer, I found a Tupperware container with berries I'd picked with N. and Sean in the early autumn, from elderberry bushes on the bank of the Muddy River at the Commonwealth Avenue culvert. I boiled these down for juice, drained them, and then boiled the juice with sugar and pectin, and a sliver of butter and a teaspoon of lemon juice. Popped the adamantly purple concoction even as it begin to jell right into a jelly jar, in which it now sits and waits on a shelf in the fridge.