The Dog Ate My Pants Defense

So, after a fun-filled night in Athens for Kinger's engagement party, I groggily awoke and after consuming enough bacon to make me feel like a human being, I decided it was time to struggle into clothes and get on the road.  I pulled on my tee and cardigan, rooted through the clothes scattered around Kinger's childhood bedroom, and slipped on my pixie pants.

Which were quite drafty.

"Oh my word!  I have eaten entirely too much bacon and split my damn pants!" were the first thoughts that flew through my bleary brain.  Hmmm.

I was a bit relieved when I removed the air-conditioned britches and discovered chew marks.  Kinger's devil dachshund, Lula, had eaten out the seat of my pants. I was faced with a conundrum- I could wear my gold and black full skirted cocktail dress, bottom-less pixie pants, or my lime green and fuchsia cotton pj pants.  I chose the latter, and prayed I wouldn't have to get gas or you the facilities on my four hour drive home.

In case either of the above became a necessity, I chose to go home through the mountains- a bit longer than driving through Atlanta and Chattanooga, but far less probability of seeing anyone I know.

Zooming on up the highway, rehashing all the gossip from the night before on my phone, I was completely unaware that the speed limit had changed from 65 to 55. However, the cop that was behind me was quite aware.

Now, I was just too worn out to even attempt to get out of the ticket.  I merely queried when the limit had changed, then settled down to read my new Town and Country while he wrote the ticket.

Of course, I did have to explain to him that I was speeding for a perfectly legitimate reason.

I had to go to the restroom and the dog ate my pants!

Yeah, I still got the ticket.

The Junior League Project- Charleston Part Two

Mmmm, so here's the soufflé all bubbly out of the oven.  I had the leftovers with a simple green salad for dinner the other night and it was divine.

Since I was cooking Charleston style, Buddy was very proper.

He was absolutely horrified when his Mom served and ate dinner in her pajamas, with the remnants of her pre-Sunday School makeup smeared around her face.

In addition to the soufflé, we had oven fried chicken.  Now, my complaint with oven fried chicken is generally this- Don't try to be something you're not.  Sage advice for people, those laminate countertops which purport to look like granite, and chicken. Now I love chicken that's dipped in something rolled in crackers or cereal and baked (with, ahem, butter drizzled on top). However, it ain't fried chicken.  On the other hand it's mouth-wateringly scrumptious.  And you feel virtuous, which is always helpful on Sunday nights. 

 Crush your crackers- I used Multi Grain Club Crackers.  I am obvious a shining example of health.

 Here's my assembly line- sour cream, cracker crumbs, baking dish.  One dry hand. One wet hand.  Now, if I was going to make this again, I would put a baking rack in my dish so both sides of the chicken are crispy.  And I will make this again.  Watch out chickens!

 It does kind of look like fried chicken.  Don't be fooled, but it almost equals the real thing is deliciousness.  So, Charleston Receipts Repeats is definitely a winner in my book- our dinner with garlic roasted broccoli.

Although I do think the real winner in this whole project is Hubs- lots of cooking coming his way, with none of my normal lean-mean waistline maintaining measures.

Now, tell me all about y'all's weekends!  I am so excited to be seeing so many ladies with a weekend full of wedding dress shopping and an engagement party in the home of my beloved Bulldogs. 

The Junior League Project- Charleston

Today we turn to Charleston- Charleston Receipts Repeats to be more particular.  and if we're going to talk about the Junior League of Charleston, one must always be particular.

Now, the food I made inland on a cold November night is rather different than the food I associate with Charleston. 

Summer after freshman year at Georgia, myself and four dear friends loaded up our cars and zoomed off for a summer in Charleston, lucking into an amazing place downtown.  Our furniture consisted of mattresses, folding chairs, and various items purloined from the street or Goodwill.  Our jobs were menial and rather hilarious- a couple girls worked at a restaurant that had a suspicious backroom where mafia types met, while random college students ate pizza out front.  I toiled at a well known tourist trap, where I entertained myself by telling grits-ignorant Ohioan tourists that our premises on Market was a former well-known whorehouse frequented by the likes of Rhett Butler.  No one questioned the authenticity of my ludicrous claims- not even to note that Rhett is, in fact, a fictional character.

Between our arduous schedule of hostessing duties, going to parties, hanging at Washout, and exploring what bars would let us in with out rather dubious forms of identification, we cooked.  The seafood market on the way home from the beach, along with the roadside vegetable stands were our main sources of sustenance (along with Bert's hot dogs).  I have never been so skinny as I was that summer.  Sigh, glory days.

Anyway, back to the present.  So, this is the sequel to the first legendary Charleston Receipts cookbook.  I needed something a little more current after the soup and eggs experiment.  I love this cookbook!  You can tell by its dog-eared nature- I loved to read it when I was a child, and peruse the menus and beautiful illustrations of south of Broad life.

First- a Cheese Soufflé (a misnomer, it's really more of a strata, delicious either way)

Take four pieces of high quality white bread- or the rough equivalent of French bread, which is what I did, and a heaping half-pound of freshly-grated sharp cheddar. Layer a slice of torn up bread, and a fourth of the cheese.  Repeat 3 times.

Mix together the following:

• 3 eggs separated and beaten.  I don't know why you separate them, because it all goes in together- you don't beat the whites until they are stiff, and fold them in like you would for a soufflé.
• 2 1/2 cups milk (I used 1%)
•  1 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon dry mustard
• sprinkle of red pepper
• 1/2 teaspoon mined onion (I cheated here and used about a tablespoon of onion)

Pour the egg-milk mixture into your casserole dish.  Now let sit in your fridge for a least 5 hours, or overnight.

Preheat your oven to 325, then place your soufflé in a larger baking dish full of water.  Carefully put the whole shebang in the oven (cooking the soufflé in the water mollycoddles your custard to just the right consistency), for an hour and a half.

Okay, we have much more coming.  My mouth is drooling just thinking of this soufflé, and I have two other recipes to share with you readers.  However, blogger is being a hater, and refusing to upload any pictures.  Y'all have to see this gooey cheesy yumminess to understand how much I love Nancy Jane, and her not-actually-a-soufflé Cheese Soufflé. So, to be continued, and a souffle cliffhanger.

Spoiler- it turns out delectable.