Lamb and Pork with Yogurt Mint Sauce

I had planned to offer up some post-holiday entries. Alas, post-holiday has gone on nearly a month, and much good eating is past, much of that blog-worthy, but time has a way of keeping me from this whole blogging endeavor. Tonight, I had to write at least a little something, with the year already three weeks deep, and this meal was certainly worthwhile. I had planned to offer up something about beef barley soup made with the bones from our Christmas Eve dinner, too. Instead, I simply added a comment to that blog post, so if you are interested in what I did, I copied and pasted my reply to a Facebook request I'd had for that follow up explaining the basics of what I ended up making.

Tonight was an interesting night. Our older daughter was in a bit of a "mood," and frankly was trying our collective patience. Getting into cooking mode was a great escape, and I dug in after we all settled into the warmth of our home after a chilly day, picking everyone up, and a quick trip to the grocery store to get a few things I'd forgotten in the weekend shop.  I combined some ground lamb and ground pork with re-hydrated onions (I forgot the onions even on the second trip), salt, pepper, a bit of dill, dried mint, dried cilantro, a really small dash of nutmeg, and a generous addition of za'atar from a wonderful Middle Eastern grocery/bakery nearby in our 'hood. Za'atar is great to have around in general, and I have used it on grilled chicken in the past as well. It makes for a quick grab from the spice rack, and adds a great deal of flavor in a hurry. (Side note: I wrote about using za'atar in a previous post about my attempt at making kefta)

I formed the meat mixture into oblong, flattened meatballs and sauteed them in some olive oil, getting a nice crispy bit of brown on the outside.  I made a bit of plain orzo to serve on the side, which was a great introduction to pasta for our little one. She is feeding herself more and more now, and she negotiated getting the orzo into her mouth with greater ease than I'd have imagined possible.  I did take a shortcut on one front. We keep some nice pouches of quick lentils-in-sauce on hand that we pick up from Costco from time to time, and with a dollop of yogurt, they are just amazing. As I've noted before, I try hard to get good meals on the table as fast as I can on weeknights, so such shortcuts are necessary, but don't have to come at the expense of taste and nutritional value. 

The crowning glory was a quick yogurt-mint sauce. The big plus from the grocery trip was grabbing some fresh mint. I like to keep somewhat bigger pieces of mint when I make this, so a quick chiffonade did the trick, along with a couple of cloves of minced garlic, a splash of lemon juice, salt, and pepper (and of course the yogurt). It always amazes me how simple additions like a nice sauce can transform a meal, and so many yogurt sauces are so easy to make, it's shame I don't make them more often.

The Verdict

I was so glad to dig into this meal. The smell of the kitchen was just intoxicating tonight, and my anticipation had been building all day for this meal (well, all week, really). It did not disappoint! The meat was flavorful and juicy, and the bit of crispy brown had that kind of umami vibe going on; that's the best way I can describe it. The yogurt-mint sauce was as good as I've ever made it, pretty well nailing the proportions. I sometimes go too far with the garlic or lemon juice and have to adjust, rarely getting it this good. I kept the orzo plain, and used it to mix in the sauce from the lentils and the stray yogurt on my plate. 

This meal was a complete success, and I can't wait to make it again.

As for the little ones: 
Some yogurt sauce dripped into the avocado we were feeding to our younger daughter along with her orzo, and I decided to just go ahead and feed it to her anyway. She liked it so much, I even added a bit more for her, and for the first time in a while, she ended up polishing off an entire half an avocado. I am going to go ahead and guess that it was baby-approved. The real delight was, after our older daughter finished up with her "mood attack," and finally settled in to eat, she ended up eating a really nice portion of the meat (for a change). She had hers sans sauce, and she passed on the lentils, opting instead for her usual side of green peas. The orzo was a universal hit; no surprise in our carb-loving family.

We will have at this meal again tomorrow as leftovers, and I'm thinking about opening up some wine for the adventure. If you'd like to make any suggestions, feel free to comment!

Christmas Eve - Rib Roast

Well, Christmas Eve was the cooking day this year. We have decided to have Christmas morning at home with the girls, but also decided, at least for this year, to head to Indiana to visit with family around the middle of Christmas Day. I was torn between making a ham or a beef rib roast, and decided that the rib roast was the best plan. I haven’t put our relatively new oven through much of a workout since it’s arrival in the fall, mostly because we have been battling a string of illnesses in our house, and I have been completely off my game on meal preparations; mostly just phoning it in with staples that are nice, but hardly worth writing about (at least not around the holidays).

I found a great, and simple, guide for cooking a rib roast, and I'd love to meet this "Pops Fassett" some day. I've made a few roasts over the years, but am always looking for a simpler way to get the job done, and done predictably. Trust me, if you plan to make a nice standing rib roast, and you like it cooked perfectly pink with a delicious, crispy edge, this will not let you down. I kept my rub painfully simple. Just some garlic salt, kosher salt, freshly ground pepper, and a small bit of rosemary (under the ribs only). I'm not usually one to just follow directions, and I did tweak Pops' plan a tiny bit, but I didn't need to.

We invited a neighbor to join us, and it was a wonderful meal, with mashed potatoes, steamed broccoli (for which I broke down and made a cheddar cheese sauce - of course, from scratch and with real cheddar), and to make it feel like a real holiday meal, our older daughter had her first time helping her mom roll out the crescent rolls from the tube. Some things are just fine from mass producers, and tubes of bread at holiday meals sure do save a great deal of hassle. 

The Verdict

My wife insisted on a Bordeaux with our meal, and I am glad she did. The one we served had a great peppery nose, and was a great partner for our meal. The meat was tender, cooked just the way I like it (and even met with approval from our older daughter!). It had just the right bit of saltiness, and I'm glad I decided against adding garlic gloves throughout the roast tonight. Simple was just what was needed. The potatoes met with the usual approval from both little ones. I served up a bit of bleu cheese to accentuate the meat, and it was a nice addition. It was a basic meal, but throwing all modesty aside, it was almost perfectly executed. The broccoli was neither too crisp, nor too soggy. The potatoes were a tiny bit heavier than I make most of the time, but I opted for half-and-half over the usual milk, and that made a good bit of difference on all fronts.

I think sticking with a simple, traditional meal and spending the time with a favorite neighbor and my immediate family had a particularly strong appeal for me this year. I've been pained thinking about the losses so many families faced in the wake of the school shooting in CT. I've been thinking of friends who have lost loved ones entirely too soon in life lately, and others coping with serious illnesses, living each day steeped in prayer for something far more basic and precious than gifts under a tree. I've also been acutely aware of the loss in my own life, as this is the first Christmas since my mom's passing. She is sorely missed, and would have been thrilled to enjoy that rib roast with us, I am sure. 

But with whatever melancholy may be swirling about, I am joyful in sharing my younger daughter's first Christmas with her, and especially excited that our older daughter is now at the age where the wonder and excitement come with an understanding of the special-ness of the holiday. Mom would have loved to see them, so in her honor, and with the heavy hearts of so many others in my thoughts, I will hug them tighter tomorrow, relish their joy that much more, and if it is even remotely possible, I will love my family - all my family near and far - that much more on this Christmas Day. 

(Also, look for a posting in a few weeks on beef barley soup. I saved the bones and some meat, and am really looking forward to making that in January).

Wednesday is Prince Spaghetti Day...

As implied in my last post, my mind has been flashing memories of my youth at a pretty steady pace lately, with so many friends still contending with the aftermath of Sandy back east. It was not completely by happenstance that I chose Wednesday as the day to use the crock pot to make something of a "Sunday Gravy," obviously not on a Sunday, but because I so warmly remember seeing advertisements for Prince spaghetti all over the airwaves as a young boy in NJ. Granted, the commercial is supposed to be set on the north end of Boston, but somehow the imagery reminds me still, more generically, of nearly any tenement building in a large city in the northeast, and by association, the images remind me of NY, or at least the kind of hazy and faded memory of NY that I hearken back to in the nostalgic part of my brain.

More importantly, the ad reminds me of how, in my neighborhood, calling kids in for dinner was commonplace. At any given moment, you'd hear moms or siblings yelling, "Willy [yeah, I had to endure that nickname], time for supper." Or dinner. Or whatever a family called it. We'd hear it, and the game we were all playing would either realign to adjust for those called away, or would simply dissipate as the critical mass dwindled to the few who hadn't yet been called in. By urban standards, our yards were luxuriously large in the north Jersey suburbs, but really, the block where I spent most of my youth was compact enough that no one was really ever out of earshot of their own home. I suppose there is a part of me that mourns the idea that my daughters might not get to experience the call to dinner that was so familiar to me and to my friends growing up, in part because I doubt we'd ever have that luxury in our densely urban neighborhood, but more so because it seems that we have reached a point where the cell phone, the text message, or some other digital beacon has taken the place of a good set of lungs when rounding up the family these days. 

Dinner, tonight, was a joy to cook, and the prep this morning was incredibly simple. I had a bony, cheap cut of beef and a lovely, but small pork tenderloin roast defrosted. Both went into the crock pot along with canned tomatoes, tomato sauce, tomato paste, garlic, salt, pepper, and a nice dose of herbs (mostly basil, oregano, and parsley today). I copped out on cutting up an onion, and just added a bit of onion powder today, mostly out of a concern for time (I was too persnickety about getting the garlic cut up to allow me the time to hack at an onion). I let this cook all day, and since it was a rather large batch, decided I'd keep my meatballs completely separate from the process. And for those who care, I did add a tiny dash of sugar, but I was on the fence about it. I know some folks insist that it is essential, and others consider it an abomination. For me, since I'm not Italian by heritage, I have no loyalties, and just cook as the spirit moves me.

Once home from work, I made up the meatballs. I kept them simple - beef only, some breadcrumbs (wish I'd had more on hand, but I made it work), eggs, herbs, and a healthy dose of parmesan cheese added in. I baked the meatballs, and made sure I'd have plenty to freeze along with the sauce for a week or so down the road, and to make sure we'd have enough for leftovers tomorrow as well. I was craving the simplicity of spaghetti (and not some other pasta shape; I think the commercial really got to me, but it was not Prince brand), but ended up mixing in a small bit of linguine I had opened as well.

The Verdict

(I really need to take pics on the white or red plates;
 the yellow does NOT photograph well)

Writing about spaghetti and meatballs is nor really an earth-shattering idea. Yes, the meal was absolutely delicious. You just can't rush a really good sauce, and so the slow cooker does wonders for a deep, flavorful meat sauce like this. The strands of tender meat that melt in the mouth, bathed in an herb-y tomato base are so comforting, and the somewhat saltier and chewier meatballs on the side such a delightful contrast. I have not had nearly enough wine lately, and was thrilled to find a bottle of Brunello di Montalcino in our stash. It was a great treat with this particular dinner.

So, again tonight, I let my mind drift back to my youth, to the turf of my teens (and younger), to old friends, and to old ways. I recalled a lunch at my friend Phil Mastronardi's house, and how, between his mom and grandmother, I could barely walk away from the meal. I remembered several meals at the homes of friends in the neighborhood, including a fair number at Andrew Lange's house, where his mom made some traditional German meals that I have still yet to find the courage to try to recreate in my own kitchen.  I recalled playing kick the can with my buds on 4th Ave in Westwood. I found my mind walking to any number of my old schools on brisk days like today, the smell of leaves as I crunched them underfoot, and the sound of the train whistle bringing parents back from work in "The City." And again, tonight, I wished I could do more than just remember and think good thoughts. 

Still, a rich meal like this on a cold, late-autumn evening, with my family around me, makes me realize that, for them, I'm laying the foundation for the memories my daughters will have. They will have comfort in the familiarity of the mundane things we now share, and I hope each of them will get to look back on these memories fondly, in good times and bad. And I hope they will find something that can call them back as easily as the sound of "Anthony... Anthony..."

Early Thanksgiving and Sandy

This past weekend, we took delivery of a new stove. The old one still did fine as a stovetop, but the oven had given up the ghost. Even if we "fudged" the inaccurate temperature and set the beast much higher, we would not have been able to get the oven any hotter than 325 degrees, and the cost of the repair was about half the cost of a new unit, so we swallowed hard and took the hit on the budget. I unofficially broke in the oven by roasting pumpkin seeds from our jack-o-lantern (cinnamon sugar - yum), but the official first dinner came on Sunday night. It somehow seemed appropriate to make something special, something that would make good use of the larger capacity and the full stovetop (the new unit has five burners, higher potential BTU output, etc.), so I opted for a quickie version of Thanksgiving dinner. 

If I were doing a "real" Thanksgiving dinner, a whole bird would have been brined. The stuffing would have been made from scratch. The veggies would have been fresh, not frozen. And I might even have made a bread from scratch as well, rather than just buying a tub of croissants. Even the cranberry sauce would have been homemade, not from a can. Instead, the turkey was a breast only (bone in, at least), and I did a simple sage, salt, and pepper rub on it. The mashed potatoes were the real deal; I couldn't let the little one down, as she seems to have developed a fondness for daddy's mashed potatoes. But the rest was as I have described.   Thankfully, the oven worked wonderfully, and I was even able to work in the croissants for a quick warm up at the end of the turkey's cook time. And the stovetop got a reasonably good workout, even if not all burners were in action at once.

Frankly, I hadn't considered writing about the meal. But reading about so many of my friends and family back on the east coast who have endured hurricane Sandy gave me pause, and made me reconsider. As I was finishing up the last of the leftovers at dinner tonight with my wife and two girls, I realized that this pre-Thanksgiving meal was just that; something to make me reflect on what I am grateful for in my life, the comfort of the mundane, and just how fragile these things are.

The verdict

The meal is not generally what I write about when I write here, and this is certainly the case tonight. I think back this evening on my childhood and early adult years in NJ, and hearing about and seeing pictures and footage of the places in NYC and NJ that were so familiar to me has had me swimming in memories (if you will pardon the awful pun). I recall celebrating with family at my Aunt Betty's in Westwood for Thanksgiving dinners, and so many other memories of that town that I could write several books. I remember flood waters in the mid-1970s when I was living with my Uncle Billy in Kendall Park, and how the stream a good bit behind his house had turned the back yard into a mucky lake (and how I swam in it with my cousins, even though it was far from safe). When I heard about the towns of Little Ferry and Moonachie, the former where I lived for a year with my dad, and the latter where he had worked at the time, I think about how I would never have imagined that area being overrun by water. I remembered the frequent flooding in Hackensack (was it River Road?), and visiting the USS Ling submarine docked along the river there. I thought about trips to the Palisades. I thought about heading to NYC with my father to visit relatives (and his old stomping grounds near my birthplace in the Bronx), and later by myself, sometimes on the sly, sometimes not. Trips down the shore. Hours on the Parkway and the Turnpike, with friends, with family, and alone. All of this seems so very different and very distant right now as I see the images on TV, on Facebook, on the local newspaper sites from around NJ, and the like. It's been years since I called the area home, but I was shaped by my childhood there, and seeing the destruction and loss so many are facing there pains me to my core.

I know what it feels like to live with the kind of devastation my friends back east are facing now, having endured a few hurricanes myself. I will do what I can to help. Maybe slate a blood donation later this week (if I can hydrate and keep the blood pressure up), donate to a good cause, offer what I can in kind words, good thoughts, and other distant deeds - whatever is possible from halfway across the country. I am already thinking that a visit when spring or summer comes around might be nice; put some money back into the rebuilding economies along the shore that will surely need it. But as is all too often the case, when we are physically removed from a disaster, we are largely at a loss to think of how we can really help those in need. 

I thought to myself tonight that, if I had a job that allowed it and didn't have a family relying on me here, I would get myself out there and help cut up downed trees, clean up flooded basements, help tarp up some rooftops - anything to be of clear and direct help. But having a pre-Thanksgiving meal also made me realize that having a job that needs me and, more importantly, a family that needs me, is the very thing that many of my friends are realizing right now as well. As they get together to grill up the perishables with neighbors (knowing that if they don't, things will spoil), many of them will grow closer to their neighbors over a meal shared from the heart. I try to do this without a disaster at hand, but I also know the special kind of camaraderie folks can build in those moments when the lights won't work, and all sense of normalcy has been removed. I am sure someone is running an extension cord from their generator to help out a neighbor tonight, sharing what they have, and in doing so, giving thanks for what they have. Some folks are feeling the stress and strain of loss. Loss of power, sure, but also loss of property, and a loss of the sense of security and stability that ordinary life brings. Thankfully, I'm not aware of any friends grieving for lost life directly, but I am sure that they mourn the losses they hear about just as I do, and in doing so, they are thankful to have survived intact.

I hope that in a few weeks my friends and family back east will have some of the comfort returned, some of the stability, security, and normalcy back, and I sincerely hope that they will have a solid recovery to be thankful for. Tomorrow, I will enjoy a kind of special normalcy, one of trick-or-treating in the neighborhood, another comfortable meal at my table, and of course, the love I share with my family. But I will hold all of you on the east coast in my thoughts as I do these things, knowing that many of you will not have these simple joys tomorrow. I ask that all of us who weathered this storm unscathed do something above and beyond to help. Tonight, I am thankful for all I have, my safety, the four walls and a roof, passable roads, and relative peace and calm in a way I wasn't on Sunday when I first cooked our meal. In the spirit of my Quaker friends, please hold all who are suffering in the light, and please do what you can, if you can, to help ease the pain, loss, and suffering. Give someone else something to be thankful for.

Spicy Pork Empanadas

Growing up in northern New Jersey, I vividly remember seeing ads for Goya Adobo Sauce. They aired with greater frequency than I would have imagined on network TV of the 1970s and early 1980s. Sure, I also would occasionally tune into the Spanish-language UHF stations to watch a bit of "lucha libre" on weekends, but that was a rare indulgence. (No, really it was). I recall seeing cans of chipotle peppers in adobo sauce in the "ethnic foods" aisle in the grocery store. These always seemed exotic to me, a mystical thing that, as a boy, I would never have imagined having as part of a meal, never mind an item simply "on hand" in my pantry. As I think about it, few foods in the "ethnic" aisle would have seemed viably edible when I was a boy. Part of the reason, I'm sure, was simply my youth and lack of experience, but another part of it probably stemmed from living in a household that was not all that open to cultural "otherness." About the only food we bought from that aisle was the canned La Choy products, and the thought of canned Chow Mein still triggers a gag reflex deep inside for me.

I have come to appreciate a reasonably wide array of foods from other cultures over the years, and I have a fondness for empanadas, not only because they are delicious (really, I don't think I've ever had a bad one), but also because the basic concept is so appealing. Think about it; a delicious filling in a bread/pastry that is fried. Simple, easy to handle, comforting. And yes, I know that baking is an option, but if you can fry, why not? I had not made them before this evening, so the challenge for me was to keep the record perfect; I simply refused to taint the track record by making bad empanadas.

I started with some onion and oil, a bit of tomato paste, the chipotle/adobo goodness, cumin, and garlic salt, and added in small cubes of pork tenderloin and some water. I kept letting the sauce reduce, then adding a bit of water to keep the dish cooking, until finally getting the pork nice and tender (and still juicy). Once reduced down, I felt the filling needed a bit more sweetness to balance the flavors, so I added a bit of turbinado sugar. I confess that I decided on frozen "discos" for my first outing, in part because I wanted to eliminate a point of possible failure, but in larger part because I knew that, like most weeknights, my time would be limited. As a personal goal, I plan to make those from scratch next time.  Once constructed, I fried the empanadas in a mixture of canola and peanut oil until golden brown. 

The verdict

To put it simply; hot and spicy, but delicious. In addition to opening up that can of chipotle/adobo from the pantry, and my time-saving (yes, also a bit lazy) move of using the perfectly acceptable frozen discos, I served some canned pineapple on the side. The sweetness, and more importantly, the acidity really complimented the heat from the filling. 

I thought for a minute about my pantry as I was writing this and realized that, in the event of a long power outage or natural disaster, I would still be able to cobble together some rather interesting meals from the shelf-stable things I tend to keep around as a matter of course. It might be a fun challenge to cook for a few days with only things that are shelf-stable and already in the house just to see what I would end up with. I know this, for certain: it wouldn't be anything like I would have imagined walking those grocery aisles with my aunt when I was a young boy or teenager.

Fried rice and five spice chicken

Tonight, at dinner, we hosted Ben, Amanda, Lizzie, and AJ for dinner (and, of course, Ben & Amanda's daughter!). The occasion was to work on the wedding ceremony for Lizzie and AJ for which I will serve as officiant in a couple of weeks. I decided to do a simple marinade for some chicken, and popped the chicken breasts into a large Ziploc with rice wine vinegar, soy sauce, fish sauce, some organic sugar, and some Chinese five spice earlier this morning. I've fallen in love with the flavor of five spice, and have not had nearly enough opportunities to cook with it lately, so the thought that the rain would stay away and allow me to grill gave me the incentive I needed today. When I grilled the chicken, I added a dash of garlic salt, some more five spice, and a hint of cayenne to ratchet up the flavor a bit. 
I was also looking forward to making some fried rice tonight, as well. I like using sherry wine to make my fried rice, and was glad I found the last of the snow pea pods in the produce section this morning, since I enjoy those in my fried rice, too. I added in some carrot and baby corn, skipping the egg and onion I usually add tonight in favor of a quicker version with powdered ginger, garlic salt, soy sauce, peanut oil, and a hint of fish sauce. I used both brown and wild rice, and the texture of the rice itself really stood out as a result, keeping some "tooth" in the face of large pieces of vegetable.

The verdict

The chicken was great, plain and simple. Nicely cooked, and just enough of the five spice to tantalize without overpowering. I would have liked a tinge more heat, and may play with that the next time around.  The rice was also quite tasty, but I need to add the onion and some fresh ginger next time to really keep it as I usually like it. The egg would have been nice, too, but I do sometimes feel a bit odd having both chicken and egg in the same meal (yes, I'm thinking of Paul Simon's "Mother and Child Reunion" right about now). I think our guests enjoyed as well. We did have a bit of wine, but for the life of me I can't recall what it was (maybe a Cabernet/Merlot blend). It was a bit much for the meal, but whatever. A white would have been lost to the five spice and smoky grill flavor in the chicken, even if it would have been better with the rice.

The best part of the evening, however, was having a relaxed conversation about the wedding ceremony, helping Lizzie and AJ think about what they do and do not want, and (hopefully) putting them at ease about the event. I recall planning my own ceremony with my wife several years ago, and can't help but think that some five spice chicken probably would have made that planning all the better. As I recall, we met our officiant at a chain restaurant of some sort near the interstate in Indianapolis, and it wasn't nearly as fun as tonight.

Wild boar tacos

Yes, it has been another long lapse since my last post. A second daughter in the house consumes the time that I had finally carved out after dinner as our first daughter was becoming increasingly independent. Now that the younger child is about four months old, we are finally beginning to find some routines once again, and tonight's dinner was special enough to write about. I don't know if I'll be lucky enough to get another one of these done any time soon, and frankly, I'm just glad I still get to make dinner most nights. Writing about it is just a bonus, anyway.

My wife picked up an online deal for Artizone recently; not that recently, actually, but recently enough that she passed it my way before it expired. Some of the speciality shops here in Chicago would be regular haunts for us if we lived closer to them, but parking is an ordeal without the kids; with them, it's just a royal pain. Artizone let's us order from several of the shops we like (and some we have yet to try), and have the goods delivered to our home. I have been to Gepperth's Meat Market in the past, and was impressed with their shop. When I found that they had some game meats available via Artizone, well, I was giddy.

The bottom line - having the little ones around makes us appreciate having things delivered. 

The wild boar I had them bring had to wait in the fridge for a couple of days before I was able to cook it. We had a few other things on our family agenda this week, but tonight I was finally able to bring it to the table. I knew when I ordered it that I wanted to make some kind of tacos with the meat. I browned the meat with some chopped cilantro, garlic, and green onion in a smattering of olive oil. It was clearly lean meat, and I knew I'd need a bit of extra oil for this to work. Once browned, I added a splash of liquid smoke, followed by a blend of corn starch, chili powder, cayenne, ground cumin, garlic salt, kosher salt, and smoked paprika. Unfortunately, I was out of guajillo chili powder, and I think that may be on my next Artizone order (or my next trip to the spice place in Old Town). To create the sauce, I opted to use Pepsi tonight in place of water. I wanted a bit of sweetness, and the cola seemed like a nice idea. 

I chose corn tortillas for my tacos, and my wife opted for whole wheat. We topped things with more of an American spread - lettuce, sour cream, salsa, green onion, cilantro, and cheddar tonight. 

The verdict

I was quite pleased with the result. The mild game undertones were present, but with everything else happening in the flavor column, that was a welcome and expected taste. We kept things pretty simple tonight, skipping wine or beer. It was a nice end to the family time after a wonderful weekend together, and a real treat having a few minutes to write about it.  We were also glad to spend some time celebrating a milestone birthday with a neighbor last night. Our older daughter really appreciated the chocolate fountain at the shindig (I have NEVER seen her so hyper), and I was pleased to contribute some chicken marsala to the festivities. I wish I had a bit more time to write about it, but I'm sure I'll make that dish again and again. Wild boar isn't the kind of thing I'm likely to make quite as often, but after tonight's meal, I wish it was more readily available (and less expensive). If I ever move back to Florida, I'll have to befriend some boar hunters, I suppose...