Fudge (Subtitle: Gift Giving for Dad, Part I)

The following criteria deem you “Difficult to Shop For.”  If you match at least two of these criteria, you should know that your friends and family are probably talking about you behind your back circa November 25th each year.

1. You say out loud that you want something, and then you go and buy it.

2. You have no poker face when it comes to gifts that do not appeal to you.  You have no qualms about asking for a gift receipt for returns.

3. You give few hints or lists around gift giving time. 

4. You are astoundingly good at giving presents.

The bad news is my Dad matches all four of those criteria.  (Hi Dad.  I love you, but yes, you are usually the big question mark on my Christmas Gift.xls sheet.)  (Yes, I use an Excel sheet.)  (Yes, you can have a template.)  (Yes, I am horrifically dorky.)  (Yes, I am assuming you’re thinking these questions to yourself.)  (Yes, I’ll stop now.)

So here is what my dad DOES like, as far as gift giving goes: gifts that clearly demonstrate your generosity of time and thought.  Gah, I mean, what kind of holiday is this?  My dad has always been a fan of gifts that we have made: whether it is a photo calendar or a CD of music we think he’ll like, if we made it, he likes.  (Although I may have detected a hint of anxiety when I went through my knitting stage that he might be on the receiving end.)  And his absolute all time favorite gift?  Homemade fudge.

Yes, homemade chocolate fudge is all it takes to make my Dad happy.  So when I was home for Christmas, I decided to attempt making it.  The recipe comes from my Grandma (his mom) and looked fairly simple.  Famous last words.

All was going well through the early stages: scald milk, melt chocolate, add in a few things.  But then there was the boiling, and the soft ball stage and the dropping the pan into a sink of ice water.  First, my pot was too small.

For the record, it should not be doing this Mount Vesuvius action.  That is very, very bad in the making of fudge.

I was so flustered by the gushing chocolate over the sides of the pan that I underestimated the soft ball stage and switched to the ice bath too early.  It is supposed to go from a very glossy melt-y chocolate look to the matte look of, well, fudge.  This did not happen.  Nonetheless, I prayed for the best and poured it in the waiting pan and stuck it in the fridge.

My mom told me to stick it in the fruit drawer, swearing my Dad would never look in the fruit drawer.  Later that night, my Dad mused out loud that he wished someone would make him fudge and my mom and I traded conspiratorial glances. 

A few minutes later, he was rummaging in the fridge for something when… “WHAT THIS IN HERE?”  The jig was up.  So much for waiting for Christmas.  As my Dad dug the tray out of the fruit drawer, I crossed my fingers and toes that the fudge had set while in the fridge.

For dessert that night, we had vanilla ice cream…. with melty, gooey hot fudge sauce. 

Cline Christmas

Figuring out how to balance two family Christmases, separated by 700 miles, is a difficult task to begin with, but the addition of a less than traditional emergency room work schedule adds just another wrinkle. I think it’s safe to say rare will be the year that we actually celebrate Christmas on the 25th, from this point forward. Fortunately, we were able to work out an early Christmas with Matt’s family traveling up to see us on Sunday – which meant, my first time hosting an official holiday! With the in-laws! Ok, I say that as if the underlying message is “pressure’s on!” but truth be told, my fam-in-law are the sweetest, kindest people ever and even if I burnt the entire meal, they’d probably be all “But your napkins rings look perfect!” (And I’m not just saying that because my dad-in-law reads this. Hi Dad!)

I had fun planning the menu, trying to do a fairly traditional holiday dinner, but not get too in over my head. My favorite thing to make was the homemade yeast rolls. They were super easy, but I felt very Pioneer Woman tossing flour all over the place and pounding rolls into little balls to drop into a big ol’ greasy pan. I won’t go all play by play of the food on you here (holding myself back) but the rest of the meal was quite scrumpty too.

Okay, wait indulge me one more… for my male readers… I’ll mention the meat. My first time making a prime rib! It was perfect. I got a little nervous when I realized my meat thermometer, which has worked faithfully for four years, broke. TODAY. Of all days. Couldn’t have broken when it was just me and Matt and I might be worried about a little trichinosis from undercooked bbq, ooooh no, thermometer you had to break on my very first Holiday Dinner with The In Laws. (Well… at least my napkin rings were pretty, right?) Without any other choice, I just followed the timing and temperature in my recipe (from Everyday Food) and prayed for the best. I breathed a sigh of a relief when Matt started carving and the meat was not still moo-ing. Not moo-ing, and very very tasty. Success! Thank you oven gods!

After we ate, we gathered together to exchange presents and even Buddy was able to get in the goods. (Look at that tongue… Micah knows the way to a puppy dog’s heart.)

I ran into a little snafu handling Matt’s gift. I had gotten him part of one of those heavy duty Craftsmen tool chest, which was very kindly loaded into *his* trunk by the Sears sales guy. I got home and went to get it out to wrap and it, um, well… looks like I need to go back to doing some 30-Day Shred. Couldn’t even move the darn thing. Soooo I wrapped it right in the trunk and prayed that he would have no reason to go into his trunk for the next 2 days. When it came time for unwrapping his gift, I forced my family to tromp out to the garage together. Nothing like the smell of gasoline to get you in a festive mood, right?

We so enjoyed hosting our family… although I must say, I have a whole new appreciation for all that my grandmothers, aunts and mother who have hosted many a holiday (or other family gathering) have gone through before me. The time it takes to get the meal ready, your house all spiffy and smelling nice, and the insane timing of cooking everything…good grief. It’s enough to make a girl put Papa J’s on her speed dial. So if I haven’t said it before, here’s another resounding thank you to all the “been there, done that” women in my families. But I understand why we do it – it is so worth it to have your family gathered around a meal you made, relaxing in your home that you take care of, and appreciating their time together. Maybe the novelty of this will wear off after I’ve done it year after year, but as for now, as 1950s as this might sound, I truly do enjoy homemaking. (Though I hesitate to put this in print…I have a feeling someone might reference this post when I complain the next time I have to vacuum up dog hair tumbleweeds.)

On that lovely note, I leave you with this… Merry Christmas, from the Cline family. May your meat be cooked, your presents clock in at less than 75 pounds and your family be together this holiday season!

Lexington Barbecue Fest

The Pig Reigns

I have to say, I expected a little more from all the hype. Don’t get me wrong – the barbecue was delicious (as it always is), but the festival was just your typical blocked off street fair: vendors selling everything from local honey to purses made from John Deere fabric (who keeps these vendors believing there is a demand for such product?) to handmade bird cages. And of course, there was the usual plethora of fair food – giant turkey legs, gyros, bacon wrapped scallops and fried candy bars. (Welcome to the South, ya’ll!)

One Happy Customer

Turkey Legs, Of Course.

Lexington is one of those small Southern town that still has a Main St with mom-and-pop owned businesses tucked in besides CVS and Arby’s and other chains. Donna and I tucked into an candy store along Main St and poked around in the bins that were full of old timey favorites – Mary Janes, butterscotches, bit-o-honeys, and those little foil-wrapped strawberries with the gummy insides. They had an awesome collection of antique children’s toys and books in the back that I perused/snapped pictures of while D scooped out her loot.

Choosing Carefully

Despite angry skies early in the morning, it ended up being a postcard perfect afternoon to wander the streets, people-watching and sampling the wares at the different vendors (beware the habanero sauce at the Sticky Fingers booth, yall….). I’m still not entirely sure how this festival, compared to all other festivals in the country, made it on the top ten food list… but I’m thinking it has to be the John Deere fabric purses.

It was a gorgeous afternoon to be out and about, and most importantly to share a big part of what we love about North Carolina with our friends. Although apparently, we’re going to have to go get Matt a slaw-free sandwich next time. Hmm. I guess that’s okay.

You never forget your first time!

S’mores

The key to a good s’more is prep work.

Then when the ‘mallo is just right, you’ve got the perfect surface to smoosh it on.

It’s all about flame control. Finding the perfect spot.

Then having a little patience…

And some good friends to hang out with…

Or to sling you a quick graham square when you need it…

Until it comes together… the long-awaited reward! Delish.

Middle Sister

I wish I drank red wine solely so I could purchase this bottle. I love judging bottles by their labels.

Any bottles you’ve bought based on labels that have turned out to be success? My two faves so far are Barefoot Pinot and Polka Dot Riesling.

Cupcakes & Catchphrase

This weekend the stars collided and a number of our friends all happened to have the same Saturday evening off together… which called for an impromptu get together involving large slabs of meat on the grill, cold beverages in the fridge and funfetti cupcakes.

Okay, I confess, the funfetti cupcakes aren’t exactly a necessity of a get together but it just so happens my wonderful friend Jamie has been gracious enough to share her birthday with our wedding anniversary so I wanted to give her a little birthday shout out. Plus, who doesn’t love a chance to eat cupcakes?

It was a great evening, and just so nice to see the boys be able to kick back and relax. The hens had a great time clucking away in the kitchen sipping wine / whiskey sours (and um, eating frosting out of the can. There, I said it.)

After dinner, we gathered for a round of Catchphrase and it must be documented here in the inaugral Emergency vs. Optho, Emergency was the clear winner. Optho, ya’ll better be studying up for next time.

From Townie to Tourist

About two weeks ago, all the new interns arrived in town and we’ve been having lots of get to know you activities. Last Tuesday, one of the new interns emailed the group to invite us to get together at Filling Station. Apparently every Tuesday night, FS has a Shrimp Boil and features a cosmo and coronitas special and beach music.

Now I’m no stranger to Filling Station’s special: every Wednesday night my senior year of college my five girlfriends and I would get together for dinner at Filling Station and HALF-PRICED WINE BOTTLES. I know, right? By mid-year, we’d arrive to find our table set and two chilled bottles of Kendall Jackson ready for us. (This is where the name “winos” had originated from.)

But I had never known about their Tuesday night Shrimp Boil, and we were excited to try it out. Three things we love: seafood, beach music and cosmos. Or coronas, if Matt was writing this entry. A trio of happy things.

Nothing disappointed, except perhaps the choice of table location (right underneath the speakers) and we had a great time getting to know the new interns. It’s funny how people brand new to your town can introduce you to things you’ve never known was right under your nose, perhaps because you just start to become so comfy in your own town you stop seeking out new things.

Have you ever felt like a tourist in your own town? It makes me inclined to seek out some new experiences in our town – I’m sure there’s many other nooks and crannies in Winston I have yet to discover! It makes me even more excited to know that we’re here for the next three years of residency, because I’m sure there’s much more in this town I have yet to find.

Happy Wife, Happy Life

This week was crappy for no apparent reason. Like, the kind of week where you’re almost trying to FIND something to pinpoint those AGGGH BLACCCH EEEKFF feelings on, because heaven knows you’re not going to be the girl who’s just complaining for no reason at all, right? Right. I don’t know what it was, the alignment of the stars, the extra half hour of sleep stolen each morning by my new furry, four-legged personal trainer, the stress of a brand-new group of 40 newbies staring eagerly at me wondering how I am magically going to make them lose weight, the fact that I still had a suitcase sitting on the bedroom floor from a vacation a week ago or WHAT. But all week long, I felt tired, I felt cranky and I felt … undeserving of those feelings. Like, who am I to feel that way when the list of blessings definitely outweighs any for-real negatives in my life? That’s so strange to feel that way – undeserving of the right to be cranky. But until I sat down to pour my heart and soul out to the internets, I didn’t even realize that sentiment was underlying that craptastic funk I was in all week. I mean, why can’t I have a week where I’m just feeling shitty for no good reason at all?

I can hear myself telling any of my coaching clients right now: it’s not good, it’s not bad, it just is. Apparently, I’m taking my role as the positivity police a little toooooo seriously if I won’t even let myself have a B.B. King kind of week. But whatever, it’s come and gone, and I’m feeling just fine and dandy and actually pretty darn accomplished after 3 hours of ironing. (Yes, 3 HOURS. We’ll get to that.) Actually, you know what I think was the root cause of all this internal foot stomping? I don’t think I’ve had a day where I really could iron since April 29th: closing day. We closed, we packed up, we moved, we unpacked, we unpacked some more, we hosted family, celebrated a graduation, packed up our bags, flew to the Dominican, (ok don’t pity me too much here), came home, unpacked, got a dog, realized said dog had some major behavioral issues, went home to Lincolnton, went to work again, went home to Rochester, went back to work again and WOW. Ok, blogging epiphany. While the last 8 weeks have been chock full of really super duper awesome stuff….

I am le tired. And I want a nap.

So this weekend, we originally planned to go to the mountains. And while I know I would be happily hiking along a huge staircase of boulders in Julian Price right now, or maybe sipping a cold brewski out of a mason jar at The Woodlands, I am really really happy to be sitting in my bonus room with a sleeping dog at my feet, a sleeping hubby in front of the TV, a big pile of ironing done, and no where to go. Staycation, yes please.

This morning, I switched out my winter and summer clothes – a task that led to me accumulating a pile of ironing about 3 feet high. I really avoid ironing at all costs – in fact most of the time, I just take it to the dry cleaners and pay $2 to get it pressed. I’m a firm believer in outsourcing. But this was probably about 20 items, so I figured I better just tackle it. I loaded up my computer with some TV I’ve wanted to catch up on – 3 episodes of Cook Yourself Thin, the season finale of The Office and 3 coaching vlogs I follow. It took me 3 hours and 60 oz of distilled water to get through that pile. No joke. And once I was on a role, I decided to iron the curtains that we need to hang in our guest room and the linen napkins I haven’t used since Valentine’s Day because they got too wrinkly after I washed them. All in all, 23 items ironed. I guarantee that’s more ironing than I have done in our entire marriage.

After I ironed, I sat down and made the first meal plan I’ve made in probably 2 months (formerly an Every Saturday Morning tradition) which now means I have a humongous Harris Teeter trip on my hands. Our house is clean, the laundry is done, the dog is snoring… it feels so good to have my house right again.

When my home is happy, I am happy.

Meal Plan for the Week:

Sunday: Flat Iron Steak with Pimiento Cheese Mashed Potatoes, Sauteed Spinach and Onions, and Green Salad (No recipes, just basics)
Monday: Everday Food’s Pork Satay with Peanut Sauce and Lo Mein Noodles
Tuesday: Cook Yourself Thin’s Pasta Bake
Wednesday: Cook Yourself Thin’s Quesadillas (If I can keep my hands off the wholly guacamole until then.)
Thursday: Sushi (picked up from Fresh Market) and Cook Yourself Thin’s Spring Rolls
Friday: Leftovers or Grilled Chicken Salad

If any of the recipes are worth repeating, I’ll post them on megeats.

Amateur restaurant review: I Like To Eat, I Like to Write, This Should Work

Be Our Valentines?

Valentine’s Day Table Setting

Dinner was delicious, the conversation lively, and the evening relaxed and enjoyed by all. Matt and I are both thankful that not only do we genuinely enjoy time spent with both of our respective parents, but they seem to enjoy each other’s company as well. If Valentine’s Day is meant to be shared with your loved one, it was even better shared with five of my loved ones. Especially because that means ten extra hands to wash and dry dishes. (What, they’re family. I can put them to work after a dinner party, right?) Matt’s family headed home after dessert, and my parents left this morning for Charlotte to spend the day with my sister, capping off our short but lovely holiday weekend.

Ready to eat!