Saturday 29 November
A trip to Antipastos to stock up on meat, and their veal chops are now one of our standards.
Katharine had sent us home from Thanksgiving not just stuffed, but with a Tuberfest care package of mashed potatoes. Holt beat some cream into the mash, then added a little bit more, then that fatal bit more than that. The mix was a bit too soft to be flipped for potato pancakes, even after being patted with bread crumbs. Holt applied Kitchen Rule 3 ("When all else fails, rename it"), declared that that was what he had had in mind all along, and treated the tatties as for frijoles refritos. Flipped 'em over, pushed 'em around a bit, let 'em develop a bit of crispness on the bottom. Not bad at all.
Once that was done, we could deal with the chops. Again, constant vigilance is the price of dealing with the stupidhead electric stove. But truth, justice, and the Canadian way (plus an application of fresh thyme and coarse salt) prevailed with the chops, and they came out very nice indeed.
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