The Joy of Having No Stake In It
An ode to attending random sports events, a pre-Thanksgiving leftover effort, a reverse-engineered cocktail and more: it's Friday on the ACBN!
It's been nearly two weeks since the World Series ended with one of the most dramatic Game Sevens of all time, and I still can't shake the thought that hung over me throughout that 11-inning nailbiter.
Man, I'm so glad I don't care who wins this.
I love sports; surely you know this by now. I'm an ardent fan of (most of) Cleveland's professional sports teams and the collegiate teams from the University of Cincinnati. I follow their proceedings with great interest and unflagging commitment, and nearly all of the time, doing so makes me absolutely miserable.
This does not make me unique!
I think that most sports fans, even the most success-spoiled, find their teams to be a source of frequent consternation. It's inevitable; getting emotionally involved in something where you do not have any control over the outcome is going to stress you the heck out. It's for this reason that I'm fascinated by people who embrace fantasy sports and/or gambling because it "makes them care about games they wouldn't otherwise", a reasoning I've heard given many times.
The games I don't care about are the best games!
Some of the most fun I've ever had at sporting events is when I've found myself at a game where I truly have no opinion on the teams whatsoever. A Minnesota Twins game. An Anaheim Ducks game. A minor-league baseball game in Altoona, Pennsylvania.
Scott Hines
I found myself in Sacramento for work earlier this week, and was delighted to realize that the NBA's Kings would be at home, playing a game a short walk from my hotel on a free night. I bought a $17 ticket online, slipped out after dinner with coworkers, and enjoyed a professional sporting event on pure merit, clapping and cheering and carrying on knowing that I would sleep soundly in my 64-degree hotel room no matter who won.
(In fact, Sacramento lost. It turns out Nikola Jokić is good at basketball, and the Kings largely are not.)
For as much agita as the Guardians or Cavaliers or Bearcats can give me, for as much as I feel like the Browns (v2.0) were put on this Earth solely to spite me, it's good to get an occasional reminder that sports are supposed to be fun. That's the whole dang point.
(That, and maybe getting a hot dog even though you already had dinner.)
Friends, it's Friday again at The Action Cookbook Newsletter.
I've gone from coast to coast (the Ohio River to the Sacramento River, that is) and back this week, but neither rain nor snow nor capricious air traffic reductions shall stay this courier from bringing you the best that that weekend ahead has to offer.
This week, that includes:
- Putting the Thanksgiving cart before the horse!
- Reverse-engineering an umami-rich tropical cocktail!
- Some killer new music, two great books, deep thoughts on historical television dramas, Halloween pets, and more!
The weekend beckons. Let's ride.
There's nothing in the rulebook that says you can't make a Thanksgiving leftovers sandwich right now
There are people who would have you believe that there's a War on Christmas, but if any holiday is being besieged, it's Christmas that's the invader and Thanksgiving that must defend its ground. No sooner had the Trick-or-Treaters turned in for the night than my neighbors started hanging their Christmas lights, and I'd heard that Mariah Carey song against my will by noon on November 1st.
I won't stand for this assault on Thanksgiving, our best holiday.
I will, however, take it as cover to begin my celebrations early, too. If the folks down the street can have reindeer in their yard before the leaves are even off the trees, then I can go ahead and make a Thanksgiving-leftovers sandwich weeks ahead of the big day. Call it a practice run.
I'm not just filling a sub bun with stuffing and a few scraps of turkey, though. (I'm looking at you, Wawa.) For this to be a proper sandwich, it needs some key elements–acid, heat, and crunch among them.
Let's break it down:
Bread: sourdough. Something with structure. This can't fall apart.
Spread: I prepared an envelope of instant mashed potatoes and stirred in a 4-ounce knob of herbed Boursin cheese, and let me tell you what: this 5-minute effort was 90% good as any mashed potatoes I've spent far longer making. I'm not saying you should just do this for Thanksgiving, but you could, and if you did it'd probably be well-received.
Turkey: I just sliced up the pre-roasted breast from Costco. This is a practice run, y'know.
Pickled green beans: This is my acid and (some of) my crunch – I trimmed some fresh beans, blanched them in boiling water for 3 minutes, then put them in a brine of 1 cup apple cider vinegar, 1 cup water, 2 tablespoons sugar and a handful of pickling spices.
Hot cranberry sauce. It's an ACBN holiday tradition!
Stuffing: again, simplicity is the play here. Making stuffing from scratch is my favorite part of the big day, but Stove Top will suffice for a practice sandwich.
Gravy: we should put gravy on sandwiches more. If there's one thing the British get right culinarily, this is it. (There isn't.)
Fried onions: I did not eat a handful straight out of the bag and you can't prove that I did. This press conference is over.
Here's the step-by-step assembly:
... and the finished product:
It's not the most photogenic sandwich, but it was damned good, and a worthy warm-up round for the big day.
Umami, I'm in fear for my life from the long arm of the law
This week's cocktail-making effort has lived as an idea in my planning document for more than six months, inspired by a drink I had at the bar at the Willett distillery this spring.
(This would be when I made an egg-salad pilgrimage there.)
Scott Hines
The drink I had there was bourbon-based with a tiki twist, and it was very good. I knew and had most of the ingredients (bourbon, pineapple, cranberry and maple) but it also included "umami bitters", and every commercial version I had been able to locate cost far more than I wanted to spend on bitters for one cocktail.
Finally, I had a revelation.
