That's my Dad! And he's gigantic.
I’m bad at blogging when I’m not on a schedule. When I get time off of work I become full of a sweet radiant bliss that doesn’t allow me to do any of my normal activities. So now I’m behind on about 5 posts about decadent meals/ desserts I’ve created. Watch out for those in the near future. Hint– awesome seafood chowder to come!
I shipped out to NJ for my holiday break to spend some time with the fam. My sad little LA body was worried about the cold winds it would have to endure. I kept telling myself to ‘Buck Up!” I used to live in Boston for Christ’s sake! None of that mattered anymore though. After 3 years of living in LA, I have been stripped of any tough exterior that can walk through temperatures below 40 degrees (and that’s being generous).
So I arrived and didn’t think it was all that bad. I bundled up and went from car to establishment and back again, never spending too long outside. I donned a hideous large puffy coat that I adore because it isn’t fashionable by any means and it almost hits my knees. I only wear this thing when I’m home for the holidays. It’s perfect for those weather conditions and is a friendly reminder that I don’t live in subzero weather anymore.
Christmas came and as always, that night ended with a gigantic high school reunion (spanning from decades) at the local bar. This has become a tradition since all my friends have been 21, as a good friend’s birthday is on Christmas. I actually walked home from the bar that night! I braced myself, and even mentioned to my brother that I was going to have to get pretty loaded if we were going to walk home. And we were, because our ride left. After beer, shots, and merriment, we set off. It wasn’t too terrible. I was happy to get home, but wasn’t completely miserable. I was getting the hang of this winter weather. I was CRUSHING it! And then…
BAM! Blizzard mofo!
I’m not exaggerating here. I often do that– like to dress up what I’m talking about to make it more exciting. I actually mean a blizzard. Look it up. Union County, NJ gets 2.5 feet of snow– in one shot. It snowed all day, relentlessly taunting me. After the first foot I realized I wasn’t going anywhere, which was ok. It was the day after Christmas and I could care less about going anywhere. We had a ton of delicious leftovers and booze. We were good to go.
I remembered past blizzards that have snowed me in. There’s always some sort of bonding.
As a kid, you waited until daytime so you could somehow make your way over to a friend’s house to build snowmen and go sledding. And sometimes even build igloos. For real. And then it was all about warm hot chocolate inside as you peeled wet clothes off your body. (It’s true. In Jersey we ski in our jeans. But I did wear snow pants as a kid.)
As I got older, it was more about who you were lucky enough to be snowed in with. In college, my freshman year, we had a huge blizzard in Boston, resulting in a dorm-wide party. Mostly I remember staying in with my roommate and having and epic evening with Captain Morgan (gross). A few years later, a first date that gave us a long time to get to know each other.
In other words, as much as I may hate large quantities of snow, they always manage to bring people together. So this one would be no different. I was lucky enough to be with my whole family, which is a rarity to begin with. We laid around and watched football and movies. We were all old enough to not be bratty or annoyed by each other. It was just peaceful. We took turns dancing around in the flurries (I only lasted a few moments) and enjoyed the barricade the snow created.
And when the little ones and the older ones went up to bed. My brother and I silently agreed it was time to class it up with some Scotch.
I talk about Scotch a lot. I’m obviously a big fan, but for some reason the cold weather just aches for it. There is nothing that seems more appropriate to me during a snowstorm, than a glass of smooth Scotch. This is something I didn’t have an appreciation for as a college student, when I experienced my last big storm. Luckily, my father had a good one. I don’t remember the name, but I do remember I wasn’t supposed to drink it. I did anyway (mostly because he doesn’t drink Scotch). And it was perfect.
We both met in the basement with our various night caps. It’s too good not to share the little midnight snacks we created. I had my delicious glass of Scotch with a scrap of bread. Boring! But anything would have been in comparison to the combinations my brother magically throws together. He chose to drink Makers on the rocks. He paired that with a small bowl of Italian olives, a chunk of Ricotta Salata, a few slices of Provolone, and a wedge of Jarlsberg Swiss Cheese. Awesome! He shared of course, because I can’t just watch someone eat cheese. And we discovered the swiss was an excellent compliment to the whiskeys.
And then we watched The Town. But that doesn’t really fit into my theme here. So I’ll just say that I liked it, but I’m biased because I spent a lot of time in Boston. And I love Don Draper.
So as much as I will complain about being stuck in a blizzard, which ruined a lot my plans and gave me an annoying cold, it ended up being a nice way to have some close family time that I haven’t had in a long time.
Roaring Tiger 