The great news is that I finished the text end of the application I’ve been working on. 55 pages of fun, people-of-God. 55. Single-spaced. Ask me my favorite new obscure saints because, I’ve got you, fam.
The overwhelming news is that: I have now started part two of this process which is: plugging images into a format. I’m about to make a book out of those 55 pages and the hundreds of images I have of the church where I work.
Pray for me. This is why writing seems insurmountable when I come home from work in the evenings.
To maintain a semblance of sanity, I decided to invest into my personal life. Problem: I only know how to go hard, apparently. 7 course dinner party, come at me.
Theme colors were green. Obvi.
So, I have these super lovely vintage dishes, a full set, that my mom bought for me from a boutique shop a few years back. I served on them, which was super fun.
Seven courses were:
Amuse: Watermelon with Basil and Feta or Tomatoes
Soup: Zucchini and Leek soup with Parmesan and Black Sesame Seeds
Night before. DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO WASH LEEKS? It’s a pain. Thank God for indoor plumbing.
Savory dish: Crepes with Carmalized Onions, Kale, and Goat Cheese, topped with crushed Pepitas
(side of Honey-baked Ham because I won one in an auction lolololol)
My mom made the crepes, with a secret family recipe. I’m not as good at making them as she is, turns out. I don’t got da touch.
(Me, at the Honey-baked Ham store, “Hi, um, I’m a vegetarian, I won this in an auction, I don’t even know what to do with this.” Amazing precious young little male clerk, “Oh my gosh! Okay! I will help you! I can tell you everything! I’ll make suggestions! Don’t worry!”)
Salad: A magical quinoa salad that I make. Noah helped me plate it. We plated it on a bed of spring greens atop chives grown locally (my backyard!) and garnished with some microgreens. Legit it looked so pro. Noah is pro.
Savory dish part two: These tiny lil “pot pies” I made inside of mason jars. Pro tip: mason jars at the craft store are overpriced. Mason jars at the hardware store are priced like it’s 1957 and we’ve got canning to do.
The pies were made with roasted parsnips and a bunch o’ mixed mushrooms and beef stock and jackfruit. I tried making a vegetarian recipe I found online, but then I didn’t like it, because I needed something heartier. Enter the roasted parsnips for a deep flavor, the mushrooms for the meaty texture, and the jackfruit that kind of fools everyone, doesn’t it? So good.
Reality: by this point, most of us are full.
So next comes a cheese course.
I bought my cheese at Eastern Market and do you want to hear the cutest story? I ran into this Jewish lady who frequently organizes tours through the church where I work. She was organizing a tour through Eastern Market. I was like, “Hi! You’re on tour here?” and I gave her a hug and she paid for my cheese order for all my friends. Is that not the sweetest thing? The sweetest thing. She didn’t have to do that, you know? She could have just said, “hi.” But instead she blessed my friends.
She’s Jewish and she tours the CHURCH WHERE I WORK and she paid for my cheese. Class.
Reality, though, seven is a lot of courses and at the dessert course I ran out of the matching ones and all the priests (and the seminarian) were like, “Don’t worry! We will wash them!” and they all started washing my dishes, in my tight little kitchen.
The deacon was like, “No one freak out! I’m ordained for the ministry of service!”
My tinyyyyyy kitchen
It’s a Catholic-pun, but I certainly laughed.
Lord but I just want my whole life to be one giant party. The older I get the more I realize: that’s unattainable. BUT I WILL STILL TRY, DARN IT.
So then it was dessert time. I made an almond-flour cake with a mascarpone filling and a frosting that was just sugar and butter and probably vanilla….what else goes into a good frosting, you know? I also had rosemary shortbread, since I thought that one of my guests was allergic to almonds, but it turns out that he wasn’t but oh well, extra dessert is good for ya.
Here, taking the cake down from the top of the piano, where I was storing it, I realized: we should sing. Happy Birthday, to be exact. I asked my friends who had a birthday close by. Turns out: no one did. Turns out: we all just pretended that Father Steve had a birthday that very day (he protested at first, then gave up) and we all sang and ate cake and I had my favorite luxury teas and then we were all just full and tired and happy.
And I have been eating leftovers for the past week. 😊
I can’t figure out how to turn this right-side, and I’m on borrowed internets as it is