Throughout my life, religion has been something of a confusing topic. My father was Greek Orthodox and left his church when he married the tow-headed, blue-eyed Queen WASP (that would be my mother). I was baptized in a Congregationalist church. My family has been known to frequent the Sermon on the Mount. No, I'm not talking about Jesus and his faithful disciples, instead I refer to a priest named Skip who practically wears full ecclesiastic robes and an acoustic guitar while on skis; the service starts at the top of the mountain and concludes at the chairlift after various scenic vistas and sing-a-longs. As if this weren't strange enough, my high school was Episcopalian and mandated chapel twice a week for all students. You have never seen 250 teenagers look so unenthused. After all of this divine exposure, I still find little solace or joy in organized religion. What I can support that rose as a result of religion--no not just Jesus-- is Sunday brunch. It's the meal that one eats after the Sunday service is over.
This past Sunday, Liz came by my place for brunch preparations and consumption. On the menu? Stuffed mushrooms and potato latkes. The mushrooms were standard stuffing mushrooms. In Liz's travels she has come across the most inexpensive and fresh butcher in all of New England and perhaps the country at large. The hole in the wall is right in Davis Square in Somerville, and Liz picked up a pound of sweet Italian sausage for $1.10. As if this weren't incredible enough, my co-conspirator reached into her canvas satchel and then produced the most gargantuan potato I have ever seen. Think Russett, think two and a half pounds. In a word, spudtacular. After shredding only half of this (the whole thing would have provided food for 1/2 of Ireland during famine) with a standard grater, the potato was drained and then fried into pancake form. The sausage was also pan-fried along with sweet onions. This concoction was then generously stuffed into the mushrooms with a blend of mozzarella and cheddar cheeses. The remaining meat and cheese were tossed into the pyrex baking dish alongside the mushrooms for bonus snacking material. Accompanied by an oversized cup of coffee, the result of our Sunday morning ritual was nothing short of spiritual.
This past Sunday, Liz came by my place for brunch preparations and consumption. On the menu? Stuffed mushrooms and potato latkes. The mushrooms were standard stuffing mushrooms. In Liz's travels she has come across the most inexpensive and fresh butcher in all of New England and perhaps the country at large. The hole in the wall is right in Davis Square in Somerville, and Liz picked up a pound of sweet Italian sausage for $1.10. As if this weren't incredible enough, my co-conspirator reached into her canvas satchel and then produced the most gargantuan potato I have ever seen. Think Russett, think two and a half pounds. In a word, spudtacular. After shredding only half of this (the whole thing would have provided food for 1/2 of Ireland during famine) with a standard grater, the potato was drained and then fried into pancake form. The sausage was also pan-fried along with sweet onions. This concoction was then generously stuffed into the mushrooms with a blend of mozzarella and cheddar cheeses. The remaining meat and cheese were tossed into the pyrex baking dish alongside the mushrooms for bonus snacking material. Accompanied by an oversized cup of coffee, the result of our Sunday morning ritual was nothing short of spiritual.
1 comment:
This is why I post links and let you do the writing.
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