Late November Griddlecakes
Posted on November 26, 2006
Through some miracle of Sweet Providence, I have emerged from the bewildering commotion of Thanksgiving proceedings relatively unscathed. No emotional contusions were suffered, thankfully, although I was attacked variously by a frozen prawn, an industrial dish rack and, at a friendly game of poker with the gents from work, a welterweight dog named Buddy who proved to be anything but.
But Thanksgiving dinner was lovely, a standard-fare affair. The family wasn’t initially too keen on my pandy - an Irish compromise between mashed potatoes and potato soup that always sends me into a rapture - but once I’d assured them that the spud goo was loaded with butter and cream cheese, they calmed down a bit. After I demonstrated how mellifluously pandy melds with gravy (the vitreous alliance is known to me as Gravy Pandy) they followed suit, ate up and gave out a few hesitant moans of approval. The other dishes went over well too.
A inevitable byproduct of the mandatory Thanksgiving excess is leftovers, practically a tradition unto themselves. For those of you less familiar with mandatory gastronomic excess and English idiom, leftovers are the portion of the meal that is not eaten, but stored away in the refrigerator to ferment so as to produce an hilarious olfactory shock when re-opened by an unsuspecting victim. Leftovers often become the unintentional Whoopee Cushion or Joy Buzzer of the refrigerator, an eventuality that I in no fashion endorse or condone. I say that when life gives you leftovers, make griddlecakes.
And so I did.
Into a large mixing bowl went the sausage-bread stuffing, roughly torn shards of roasted turkey meat, my beloved pandy, florets of cauliflower simmered in sharp cheddar rarebit, a dollop of candied sweet potatoes and a wink each of pan and giblet gravies. A few eggs were introduced, then the whole of it was tousled gently so as not to defeat the contrast of textures. I spooned little mounds of the mixture into hot butter and…
…when they had browned and unified as sovereign solids, they were treated with the cranberry and tangerine relish they so deserved. I fully expected to be horrified by the result, but my lowbrow kitchen choreography was instead rewarded with a pleasantly odd little dance of holiday flavors and textures, plus further proof that leftovers are meant to be griddlecakes.
» Filed Under food and drink
Oh my, you were pretty close to include your bitten-off fingers in the leftovers… Don’t you really enjoy being bitten, my dear? :)))
This pandy looks very interesting - I don’t like spuds on their own too much but when transferred into dumplings or such kind of velvety puree they become very pleasing.
Gagatka,
You certainly are full of spice today, aren’t you? I suppose I do enjoy being bitten, so long as it’s not too hard. You don’t bite too hard, do you?
I was attacked by a crazy woman once. She jumped on me from behind, knocked me to the ground, sank her teeth firmly into my back and wouldn’t let go. It wasn’t an affectionate bite, so I didn’t enjoy it much. A witness heard me screaming and came to my aid with a lead pipe and a crowbar.
I’m Irish by heritage, so a deep love for potatoes is written into my genetic code. Potatoes are a perfect food. I’ll have to show you a few more interesting things to do with them.
I’m going to go and have a cold shower now.
jjg