Isn’t it a shame–it’s not safe to identify your exact birthday online. What has our society come to?
Anyway, my birthday fell on a recent date, during the last “few couples of whiles,” as an elder cousin once said.
There were some nice and appreciated gifts, including some practical and enjoyable things from Kansas and some wonderful coffee from Wyoming. (The latter is Mystic Monk, for you coffee snobs–gorgeous, glorious coffee roasted by Carmelite monks. I would suffer a prolonged caffeine headache before ever darkening the doors of a Starbucks again–Eggnog Latte included!–but these good Catholic men roast the figurative socks right off the Bucks of the Star, aka America’s Parents’ Basement.)
The Kansas gifts were wide ranging and useful: a screwdriver set, which I’ve never owned before; a really good tape measure, ditto; various skin and ache-and-pain creams (hmmm); toys for dog and cats; one of those incredibly useful headlamps; and so on. A really fun box to open and dig through. A sincere thank-you note will be on its way soon.
From the dear old neighbors in New Jersey, there was a bottle of Pinhook Straight Bourbon Whiskey from Kentucky– a new brand, weighing in at 95 proof, and honoring a young thoroughbred named Bourbon Country. (I am tempted to call it a striver’s drink, but I will keep an open mind. It’s not 100% corn, so I may like it.)
A toast to the fecund shade of Hambletonian is surely in the offing, and a review of this bourbon will follow.
The turkey gave open-faced sandwiches, cold turkey salad sandwiches, and turkey and noodles before being broken down for stock. In that incarnation, it became a turkey dumpling soup full of parsnips, leeks, and carrots as well as almost two pounds of meat!
Get as big a beast as you want, but use it. That’s the key.
There was no room at the table, or in the oven, for an Indian pudding or Corn Supreme. So the former–the colonial Hasty Pudding–was chosen for a “birthday cake.”