Tag Archives: old-fashioned butterscotch pudding

Grandma’s Table: Curry Turkey Pot Pie & Butterscotch Pudding

5 Sep

See the frog? It's leopard print is so fall 2011.

Holiday weekends are a bust if they’re not a whirlwind wound round the tail of a tsunami riding on the back of a dervish surfing through a hurricane in a hot pink dress. Or something. At any rate, one should certainly emerge leaking DIY projects, skunked beer and too many hamburgers from one’s bloated, pale gills.

Stephen, Penny and I are currently shuttling between our apartment in White Plains, our new house in Kent Lakes and my homies in Brooklyn, so our gills were leaky and bloated long before Labor Day dawned. We brought it to a new level of crazy this weekend though: costly shopping outings to Sears (lawn mower), Whole Foods (specialized comestibles), Costco (standard comestibles), Target (everything else, and I do mean everything); complicated painting projects involving wood paneling and OCD; important beer and boudin ball tastings with Lisa at d.b.a.; opening mailboxes in the black of night only to find a large webbed insect nest that wants to eat my soul; driving down the highway in the wrong direction with my mom (don’t ask); shuttling to and fro between makeshift residences like confused children in an ugly custody battle.

So many panels, nooks and crannies to prime!

Prime, paint, rinse, repeat

Generally, when we’re over-worked and spread too thin, Stephen and I both display a predictable array of personality disorders. Certain adjectives come to mind, but I’m too polite to repeat them. This time at the rodeo, we’re both just happy and excited to begin our new phase (and probably too terrified as first time homeowners to lash out).

I’m sad to leave our good friends and favorite places in the steel and glass metropolis, but I won’t miss the relentless sound of the city’s collective Sisyphean battle of one-upsmanship in all things. Stephen and I are still talking too fast, too loudly, too brightly to people we meet in the country, and for the first time this weekend, it sounded false and tinny. It will take a while to shake off the last vestiges of city politesse, but I’m sure we’ll be on our front porch in rocking chairs with hay stuck between our teeth, red hankies tied around our necks, spit-polishing our guns in no time.

In the meantime, we’ve gotta eat. This week, we made twists on a few of my grandmother’s classics – pot pie and pudding. NB: Grandma would not have approved of the use of curry in any pie. I also used scraps to make a great vegetable stock that I’ll use to baste vegetables in, poach chicken and put in simple soups this week. It’s essentially free to make (just throw corn cobs, mushroom stems, onion and carrot scraps into a pot, cover with water, throw in some herbs a bay leaf and lots of salt, bring to boil, reduce to simmer, cook for about 20 minutes, strain and store), and it adds a flavorful kick to everything. Tres Grandma.

Dig in below for recipes and photos…

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