With the exception of the Christmas tree, which stays up until Valentine's Day, the holidays are over. What is left, besides my son's green sweatshirt with a strange logo and a half-knit sock, is the memory of the holiday.
As I write on a fogged-in day, these are the things I remember most:
The menus: Of the dinners the six nights that everyone was here, only one disappointed: the pesto-stuffed chicken breasts. While I am not afraid of bird flu (yet), I have a niggle in my brain that you've got to cook chicken plenty long. My cookbook gift this year, "The Gift of Southern Cooking" (Edna Lewis, Scott Peacock), has -- naturally, being southern -- a recipe for fried chicken. It not only requires the chicken pieces to be brined for eight to 10 hours, but also, after draining off the brine, the pieces are soaked in buttermilk for another eight to 12 hours. Moreover, after such tenderizing and flavoring, each piece is pan-fried for 10 minutes a side. But my pesto-stuffed breasts were overdone. I cooked them too long. Guests didn't complain, but they didn't dance on the table either, as I had smothered the slices with chicken gravy from a jar.
Without a doubt, the King Crab Dig-In was the best feast of all. It started with the shopping. Here, again, is a testimony to the adage, "A good cook flirts with her butcher." (Wasn't this a movie?)
I was rushed during the Christmas grocery shopping and intimidated by a cold storage bin (large enough to accommodate Emeril and bubble bath) that was filled with hams. So I called the butcher and innocently explained, "Sir, I need you for expertise. Could you choose the best ham in this bin for me?" I smiled coyly. He dug in. His strong arms moved, hams rolled and flew across the bin. Finally, looking pleased, he handed me his choice. I smiled grateful thanks.
So, onward Christmas shopper, I moved to the seafood bin and what did I see? King crab legs on sale -- $4 a pound off, for me! I immediately revised the holiday menus. I grabbed the largest pack and headed for checkout.
Lines were long and, finally, my cart was unloaded. But then the cashier looked aghast at the crab legs, and announced with alarm: "This package has no weight label. I have to call the butcher." Frustrated sighs reverberated in the line behind. No doubt shoppers envisioned the butcher coming to the checkout for the emergency, then taking the crab back to the butcher scale, then returning to the checkout with the labeled crab.
But here is what happened. The butcher arrived speedily, looked compassionately at the long line, and then at "poor me," the naïve customer who had trusted his expertise. He grabbed the crab package, tossed it between his hands a couple times, evaluating its weight, and said, "Charge her twenty bucks."
Oh, my, oh my! Hope was restored in the customers in the line and, with a "desperate housewife" smile (and some eyelash batting, I seem to recall) at "my" butcher, I gave him thanks, while thinking, "Holy Ham, I've got King crab legs at about $6 a pound off!"
How we eat King crab: Once, we were nearly packed for a move. Only one small end table was still available. Needing a lift, we splurged on food, pulled up packing boxes to sit on and ate King crab legs, nearly nose-to-nose with only a pot of melted butter and one candle between us. We will never forget that makeshift, wonderful meal.
We repeat the setting as we can. This Christmas we ate crab in the living room near the tree. We used a table as small as possible, but one that still accommodated everyone and his plate. Side tables, TV tables and footstools were employed and these held, respectively, more crab legs, a pitcher of melted butter, bowls for discarded shells, various salads, hash browns, relishes, rolls and vegetables (broccoli, creamed spinach and snow peas with slivered carrots and ginger butter). Folks passed these as needed.
Diners were equipped with white cotton bar towels, cups of melted butter, sharp knives, forks, picks and individual nutcrackers -- a must. The table was set only with tea lights. We were close, we were happy, we were family.
The next day I made seafood lasagna with the leftover crab (recipe follows). For a really lazy day, mix leftover crab and seafood into purchased Alfredo sauce. Also, if you can't ham it up to charm your butcher, imitation crab works just fine.
Seafood Lasagna
1 box no-boil lasagna pasta
3 c. white sauce (1 jar Alfredo sauce plus 1 c. heavy cream can be substituted.)
2 c. shredded Mozzarella cheese
3/4 c. Romano cheese, shredded or grated
Crab meat, scallops, shrimp (11/2 lb. total)
1 pack frozen spinach, pressed to drain well (optional)
To make white sauce: Melt six T. butter in pan over low heat and stir in six tablespoons flour. Cook one minute, then whisk in three cups of milk. Stir constantly over low heat until thickened. Remove from heat.
In a greased 9-by-13-inch lasagna pan, layer as follows: a third of the noodles, spinach, half of the seafood, a third each of the mozzarella and Romano. Repeat layers (no spinach). Top with remaining noodles. Pour remaining white sauce over all and sprinkle with remaining cheese. Bake, uncovered, at 350 degrees for 30 minutes or until top is bubbly.
Sally Ketchum is a writer and food journalist who often invents recipes from what's in the cupboard. She can be reached at ketchum1985@gmail.com
Print this story
E-mail this story
