Comfort Foods and Indulgences

After returning from a two-week holiday stay with family in Rhode Island, Jeff and I were in a bit of a funk. San Diego suddenly seemed too quiet, too sunny, too bland. We missed the crunch of snow beneath our feet, the hearty bowls of quahog chowder and the sight of a pink and orange Dunkin' Donuts on every street corner. More than anything, we missed the accents.

My mom says I have expensive taste. You wouldn’t know it by the stores I go to, such as Marshall’s and Loehmann's. Yet, when it comes to eating, I like high quality foods and am more than willing to splurge.

That’s why I didn’t hesitate to buy saffron. Well, that’s not really true. I did hesitate. Not because of the price; because I have an uneasy relationship with saffron. It’s sort of like kissing someone, and the "wow" factor just isn’t there. You know, he’s a nice guy, but there aren’t any fireworks. So, you give him another try, and it’s great. Then the next time it's only so-so. You know what I mean? That’s been my experience with saffron. (Not with guys; Jeff has always been a great kisser).

I’m unequivocal when it comes to food – when I don't like something, I don't usually try it again. Which is why I’m surprised about my willingness to give saffron another chance. When I first tasted it in a great Indian restaurant, I found its floral overtones unpalatable. I thought I would be put off saffron forever after that. However, another delicious Indian restaurant redeemed saffron for me by serving it in a lovely rice and pea dish. Since then, I've had it in Spanish and Middle Eastern dishes and have begun cooking with it (to mixed results). Yet, the recipe I share today is a keeper. And coming from me, that is high praise.

It happened like this… I was standing on the northeast corner of Broadway and whatever street waiting to cross.  I was running to shop or cook or finish some errand that must must must get done quickly so everything else can be done quickly so that I can get on to the next thing and then the next and then fall asleep so that more stuff can get done tomorrow. I was staring at a pick-up truck heading in my direction.  It was the only car on the road for that moment, the only thing halting my progress, and right before it got to me it suddenly made a turn WITHOUT ITS TURN SIGNAL ON.  I could have gone!  I was waiting for seconds for this fucking truck to pass when it wasn’t even passing!!!  My life is disappearing before my very eyes and this selfish asshat doesn’t even care.

The injustice. The indignity. The NERVE.

I made a sound in response, alone on that street corner, like a groan/ moan/ wail of agony so dramatic you would have thought my child was being ripped from my breast.

But then I stopped.  And I heard myself.  And I was ashamed. There is a possibility I’ve let this season get the best of me.

A "hot dog bar" is the perfect solution to not feeling guilty about serving "hot dogs" at your next gathering.  Let's face it, we all love outdoor grilling (especially for a crowd), however, if Ribeye Steaks for 20 are not in your budget, this is a great, creative alternative. Have your guests contribute the side dishes and you will have a great interactive, food-friendly party. Of course, you can also scale it up or down by the quality and types of hot dogs and buns you serve.

There will obviously be some pre-prep work, but that's better than slaving over a stove during the party. I would set a large table with cute bowls for the ingredients of each hot dog combination. Then I would print instructions on how to assemble each one.  Your job will be to have lots of buns and hot dogs coming off the grill.

There is something here for everyone's taste and the kids can still have their plain ketchup and mustard dog...no need to make something different.