Thanksgiving, or Christmas for fat kids

Despite it taking nearly a month from me to recover from my Thanksgiving coma, here are/were my thoughts on Turkey Day.

It's finally here. That most glorious day of the year when we as a nation sit down together and gorge ourselves until we slip into a collective food coma. Thanksgiving.

While Thanksgiving has its roots in early America and has something to do with breaking bread and sharing maize, it's really about so much more than that. It's about food. It's about family. It's about eating food with your family. And for my family, it's about eating a lot of food. In the past few years, we have unknowingly raised the bar of expectation, starting with one turkey, and adding additional foul just for the fun of it. When first we sought to up the ante, we added the deep fryer. Mission: delicious. Last year, we added a beer basted bird on the grill. And in the grand tradition of overdoing everything, this year we embarked on the most mythical, most gluttonous endeavor: the Turducken. Yes, you read that right, Turducken. Be jealous. Be horrified. There were 12 people eating this year including one vegetarian and two children under 10, and this year there were technically 6 birds. Try justifying that math.

Gluttony aside, Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite holidays. It has always been a low-key affair, and the kick start to the holiday season. There are certain truths I can always count on on this hallowed day; my father the vegetarian will handle one bird and the bulk of the sides, my uncle will tackle the deep fryer, someone will absolutely fall asleep in front of the fire place (whether there's a fire or not), and at some point in the day, we will all gather and spend at least 20 minutes arguing over what we do or don't need from the grocery store. I can also count on hearing my aunt yell "What the problem is?!" at least once, we will spend several hours on the couch perusing the department store circulars, discussing the sales we won't be participating in, and we will enjoy a light post-turkey day breakfast of pancakes, bacon, and sausage (because we didn't eat enough yesterday).

I shall leave you with the true beauty of four birds, and let you worry about the cholesterol problems sure to plague our family in the coming years.

Nachos- the true nectar of the gods.

Now I know what you're thinking- Nachos? Be serious. And I am- like the heart attack eating too many of the bad ones will give you. It is my opinion, humble though it may be, that nachos have been given a bad rap.

You see, there is a science to nachos; an art form. You can't just throw tortilla chips on a plate, arbitrarily toss some cheese on top and think your microwave is secretly a miracle worker. I'll save you the suspense, it's not. That little box of convenience is the kiss of death for your nachos, so forget what you saw in the opening credits of Step Brothers, because Will Ferrell is sitting on a throne of lies.

Real nachos take patience. Good nachos should be layered, allowing cheese and any other toppings you include to evenly blend together to provide the flavor explosion you're craving. Recently, some friends and I embarked on a nacho extravaganza. We put together two nacho dynamos- buffalo and barbecue. Splitting them right down the middle on a baking tray, we had chips, a four cheese blend and chicken. That's where the similarities ended. On one side, was a generous slathering of buffalo sauce. On the other, barbecue. Meticulous attention was paid to the layering of the nachos, and despite my impatience, both versions were well worth the wait. Sweet and savory on one side, smoky heat on the other.

Now nachos might never be more than a great snack item, and maybe you'll never think of using spicy blue corn chips, or including slow cooked pulled pork, or using manchego or haloumi cheese instead of a cheddar blend, but I will. And I'll tell you about it.

The goat cheese debacle of Sunday night.

About a week ago, I caught an episode of Brunch with Bobby. Now despite my ambivalence towards the chef, his featured dish was too delectable for me to pass up. Poached eggs on top of heirloom tomatoes and goat cheese spread, supported by a toasted baguette. Pretty easy stuff, right? Wrong. I made the mistake of following the recipe precisely, which I almost never do. In most cases, following the recipe is a good thing. But then again, that assumes the recipe is correct. This particular recipe called for 1/4 cup of white wine vinegar. During the show, Bobby added the vinegar, and created a thick spread, which looked divine. When I added in the vinegar, it created a lumpy soup. Lesson learned: 1/4 cup of vinegar really means 2 tablespoons for this recipe. Soupy spread aside, the recipe was easy, and I was happy to learn I could replicate his open faced sandwich. Clearly, I had to step it up a bit, and threw in some thick cut bacon- one of the better ideas I had on Sunday.

For the record, this is a great open-faced sandwich. This is not- I repeat NOT- a good 2 slice of bread sandwich. You will loose all of the yolk if you top this sandwich. Don't loose the goods like I did!

And you may ask yourself, how did I get here?

Most people have faced a period in their lives where things just didn't seem to be going the way they hoped or figured they would. For me, that was a period known as late 2009-early 2011. I had run myself ragged working full time and trying to complete a graduate program at the same time. When I finally came up for air, I was exhausted, both emotionally and physically, and couldn't remember the last time I had cooked a meal for myself.

About the time I moved into my current residence, commercials for a new network, Cooking Channel, began to surface. And who might be heavily featured in these ads? A tattooed, somewhat hyper chef from Montreal named Chuck. I watched the Chuck- laughing and smiling in his kitchen, presenting recipes I knew I could replicate. So I did.

I started with the simple stuff, began to get my legs beneath me again. I found myself so thrilled for trips to the grocery store, local produce markets, lingering past the kitchen gadgets at Target, loving something once more that had been an all consuming passion when I was a child. Cooking was my most common topic of conversation. Over the next few months, I acquired a fancy food processor, stick blender, pasta crank, and most amazingly, a deep fryer. I was thrilled, and began spending time researching recipes, adjusting ones I had already tried, and taking pictures of the things I had mastered.

And so now, here I am, building a blog about how food saved my life, and fed my malnourished soul. So read on, snack away, and hopefully laugh at some of my ridiculous moments in the kitchen.