No Bones About It

Here is a list of things I love:

1. thick socks

2. chai tea

3. not waiting in line

and most importantly,

4. meat.

I have tons of vegetarian friends, and other in-the-process vegetarian friends. Everywhere I turn, someone is talking to me about old or new goals which do or do not exclude meat. Yesterday, my best childhood friend told me she, a meat eater, cried at an intersection beside a chicken truck.

"I'm not going to cut out meat, but don't show me anything on a bone," she said, "I'll cry."

I began thinking about chicken trucks, about bones, about vegetarianism as an act of love. That night, I went to Justin's kitchen: long-time friend, avid baker and vegetarian-in-process. And, just in time for the holidays, he was revamping a favorite holiday appetizer in the South: sausage balls. (Northerner: "What? Meatballs?" No.) I have, of course, already featured sausage balls in another post, but, this is for all my vegetarian pals, or, maybe for myself: not-planning-to-be-a-vegetarian-but-cutting-out-frequent-meat-as-an-act-of-health-and-love.

Vegetarian Sausage Balls

1 lb Gimme Lean Soy Sausage (purchased at Whole Foods)

2 cups Bisquick

2 cups shredded cheddar cheese

Knead uncooked "sausage", Bisquick, and cheese together into a mixture:

Keep kneading. Because this is "faux-sausage", it will take a bit longer than meaty sausage.

Obligatory shot of Justin, master chef, kneading the dough:

Begin rolling out small spheres, but keep in mind, these will take longer to cook. Cook for approximately 30 minutes on 300. Enjoy!

Get Pot-lucky

I am an awful potlucker. In fact, if bad potlucking was a medical condition doctors were still trying to find a cure for, I would be the most appropriate case of study. Potlucks are not just an opportunity to prove yourself as a master-chef, they are a night to dictate to your friends/acquaintances/family/co-workers that you are a person who makes outstanding decisions all of the time about everything. Other potluckers will, without a doubt, translate your ability to gauge what other people want to eat to mean you also have good/terrible taste in the following areas:

The perfect Christmas gifts.

The décor and wall colors of your home.

The names of your children.

If you think I’m being melodramatic about this, allow me to create a scene for you:

Super Bowl Sunday Potluck, 2009. Group of close friends gather to watch the big game at a friends apartment and are asked to bring a dish to share. 6:00 pm. Friends begin filtering in the apartment, carrying tupperware items, corningware items or store bought items. When the dish is placed on the kitchen bar, all other attendees gather around it, wait for it to be revealed. They wait to ooh and aah. One by one, the dishes are uncovered:

Rotisserie chicken: store bought, little effort, but still, an MVP of a food. Ooh, aah.

Homemade miniature calzones: innovative, tedious to create. Extra points because miniature things are permanently cute. Ooh, aah.

Tossed salad: finely-chopped ingredients, an array of dressings and salad toppings, aptness at gauging what attendees want in their salad. Extra points for appealing to the 3 vegan attendees. Ooh, aah.

TGI-Fridays Frozen Potato Skins: uncooked, still in box: processed, fattening, uninventive. Deduct 5 points because there is nothing redeemable about frozen, fatty, knock-off chain restaurant skins, ESPECIALLY if the host has to preheat the oven to 400 and cook them for 20 minutes to give them their due.

I am not being melodramatic. I brought the skins, and my friends have yet to let me live it down.

With that said, Christmas is approaching and it is the end all be all of potlucks. If you embarrass yourself at Christmas, you have two choices: 1) accept that you will be subject to lines such as “Remember when you brought (insert unacceptable dinner inclusion here) last year? That was so weird.” or 2) go ahead and uninvite yourself to Christmas dinner for the next, say, 5 years? Everyone will probably have forgotten by then.

Over Thanksgiving, while we were preparing to travel to Latta, SC to spend time with my Dad’s side of the family, I asked my Mom for a little insight on how to “choose the right dish” for a potluck. I was prepared for a step-by-step guide, a formula with a little rhyme and reason.

“That’s easy,” she said, “You bring broccoli bread.” Just like that. Mom always brings broccoli bread.

Perhaps the key is: find a dish you’re good at, one that is difficult to ruin, just in case you’re crunched for time. Prepare it enough so the dish becomes second nature. For example, I have seen my mother mix broccoli batter and put on makeup in intervals, without breaking a sweat.

Eventually, after trial-and-error and probably a bit of public embarrassment, you will find a dish you can depend on, and you will immediately know. My mother says, “For my potlucks, I bring broccoli bread, and if I didn't, they wouldn't let me in the door."

So, this Christmas, don't go anywhere near the TGI-Fridays freezer section at the grocery store, unless, of course, it's located beside the chopped broccoli.

Broccoli Bread

1 box Jiffy cornbread mix
1 package chopped broccoli, cooked and drained
4 eggs, beaten
1 medium onion, chopped
1 cup low fat cottage cheese (small curds)
1 tsp salt
1 stick Smart Balance butter

Before preparing mixture, finely chop medium onion, beat four eggs, and throughly cook broccoli. Instead of stove top, feel free to microwave broccoli for about 2 minutes or until thawed.

Then, combine all ingredients as follows:

With all ingredients combined, the mixture should look like this:

Pour mixture in a 9 inch greased pie plate and bake at 400 for 25-30 minutes. Test with toothpick. Enjoy!