Let The Gluttony Begin

Marc’s first ever attempt at utilizing yeast was a success! I was offsite for the Marathon Xmas Cookie-Bake-a-thon so he started making dinner on his own: Chicken EmpaƱada with Chorizo, Raisins and Olives and a side of green salad. I arrived home to a pretty good smelling kitchen and some anxiety:

[before my coat is off]
“How do you know if yeast is good?”
“I don’t know, how do you know if yeast is good?”
“You don’t know? You’ve done this before..”
“Oh, that wasn’t a joke? Umm, the yeast should’ve frothed up in the bowl.”
“How do I know if it did that?”
[continues to knead the dough which contains the potentially non-active yeast]
“How? You would know.”
“In the bowl, it looked kind of like..”
“Like a lot of head on a beer? That’s would it should look like.”
“It looked like a lot of head on a Guinness. Is that right?”
“Yes. Guinness equals good.”

I don’t know how the rest of it was assembled or baked because my dogs were barkin’ and I needed a little therapeutic, one-on-one action with the DVR. (My exhaustion may, in part, have been as a direct result of the Xmas party-ing I had undertaken the previous evening with Ingrid. There was an open bar! They were handing out martinis! I abused those open bar privileges. There was also some utterly fantastic food, most notably the Alberta Bison Tenderloin which was cooked very rare and was melt-in-your-mouth delicious.)

The next time I saw the fruit of Marc’s labour was when a plate was set before me with this yummy, pizza-esque creation. The dough did, indeed, produce a perfect pocket for the perky, paprika-tinged filling. (Did I mention that I am an alliteration whore?) Quite miraculously, Marc liked the filling even though it contained two of his most-hated foods: olives and raisins. Cooked raisins, no less. The recipe did not warn us but, it turns out that empaƱadas are wickedly soporific. Not 30 minutes after having eaten them, we were both falling asleep on the couch. Do not eat and operate heavy machinery. I wish I had known this before I ate one for lunch today at work. Eyelids. Growing. Heavy.

Both of us completely forgot to eat our vegetables and thus, there was no green salad.

However, there were some pretty snazzy cookies to be had as dessert. The good news is that we will have enough cookies to last into the New Year. The bad news is that we will have enough cookies to last into the New Year. Though really, at this point in December, there is no hope of exercising any restraint. I have resigned myself to the delectables of the season and will be at their mercy until January; this is a battle I choose not to fight. Break out the eggnog. I surrender.

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