Successful Brisket and the Midwestern Transition

Well, the brisket was edible and the house still smelled a touch like latkes when I left for home on Monday morning...which I will chalk up as a resounding success. Kolz also brought home translations of the Channukah prayers for me, so I have a better idea of what's going on, though I'll miss the last 4 days. It is still exceedingly hard to get the timing of a dinner down when you have an 8-foot long kitchen and no counter space, but everything was at least warm upon serving. One of the funnier moments for me was asking Kolz's uncle about the brisket's doneness -- because one recipe said to cook it "on the lowest heat possible." When I asked if "on the lowest heat possible" meant "simmer" for most people, he replied with a quiet, non-panic-inducing "yes," and I turned the pot up lickety-split. Thank god we ran a little late and still had to light candles and wait for Imelda, because that extra 45 minutes on a high simmer saved me. And the brisket, which was eventually "falling apart tender." Kolz and Imelda blogged it here and here. Whew.

But I'm in Illinois now, which means it's time for the annual Wabes Ladies Cookie-baking Marathon (wherein Mom picks her favorite new recipes to try from miscellaneous magazines and food TV, I add in some old and/or random ones, and we end up with scads and scads of sweets). I love being in a kitchen where all of the supplies are at hand, and you can just whip up whatever, within reason. I also love a good oven, good mixer, and Mom's know-how.

Last night's yield: Peppermint Chocolate-Chip Bars, from Gourmet magazine. Chewy, minty, yow.

We also decorated tree #2 for the home place -- tree #1, a natural and lovely live white spruce, was shedding needles all over the place and was summarily planted. Tree #2 is super-locally grown, near Meredosia, IL, but apparently they've started adding green dye to the trees to make them more christmasy. I object to this on principle, but it does look nice.

Tonight is my night at my great-aunt's, and dinner on the town in Quincy; we head down to Carbondale tomorrow for a little Christmas with Sophers and Jakers, and (if I'm lucky) an evening of basketball happiness with my dad and our SIU Salukis. Going back to the SIU Arena is always electric for me - it smells like it's supposed to, they still sell the cookies & the Pepsi, and everyone around my folks' seats has been sitting there for 20 years. So in subsequent posts I will either rhapsodize about basketball or the cute kidlets, or some other nice part of the Midwest. I'm beginning to realize that it chills me out to be home because there's just more space to live in, couches to choose from, room to be. I went for a run down an actual road today, and it was so quiet. I love our apartment, but man, someday a house will be nice.