this year.

new years in ithaca means moosewood is on the horizon.
OH YES.

(and christmas in buffalo brings niagara falls, beef on weck, and maybe a chicken wing, as they say.)

the oiliest holiday.

hanukkah means latkes and donuts. the holiday of fried greasiness. shira fried up her mama's latke recipes this morning: sweet potato and regular potato. yeah, she did.

it was that kind of sunday morning, when people just sorta stop by and join you for breakfast. and the kind when i don't do all the cooking. awesomepants.

fuck yeah, christmas.

so we threw a little christmas party with the above title. it might be a little vulgar for the birth of jesus, but my holiday spirit is high. it is. i even made an ornament this week. and holiday decorations. and cookies with candy canes in them. and i am traveling all the way to buffalo for what casey keeps referring to as "catholic christmas," which apparently does not include midnight mass but instead a buffalo bills game (against whatever team tim tebow is on). 

so, yes, a little party. with the fanciest cheeses. alex and i made a special trip to southern season to pick the most perfect ones: sheep, cow, and goat. and rosemary bread. and peach bitters. that place is really something.

 

casey actually hosted/bartended this fête: three kinds of bourbon, as well as gin and sparkling wine. and punch, of course.

 

i am working my way through damon boelte's catalog of punches--this is his ruben's cooler no. 2, a concoction of gin, elderflower liquor, fresh-squeezed lemon juice, cucumber, and soda water.  

always a smash.

ask and you shall receive.

a mention for gf cheez-its means that's what we are cooking at casa smash this morning.

remember, i've done this before.

one-two punch.

casey and i are throwing a christmas party. he is going to make old-fashioneds. i am picking out a punch recipe. so much good to come.

the drink-maker.

casey is making all the whisky drinks these days. we spent much of thanksgiving drinking a concoction of bulleit rye and dublin dr pepper, with a lime, in these incredible glasses at my parents' house. and last night, he made what i have dubbed "the gentle lumberjack:" bourbon, maple syrup, soda water, and lemon. a wintery cocktail for sure.

reee-col-aaah.

i am writing about food corps, food stamps, and farmers' markets. there is math and econometrics involved. additionally, there is the growing pain that is my sore throat; i have been eating ricolas like there is no tomorrow. needless to say, i will write more exciting things soon.

for now, a photo of the chalupas i forgot weeks ago.