Everyone Has An Opinion, And In Mine, Reunions Are Terrifying.

When I was pregnant (well after Bill Haley and His Comets flamed out, thank you very much, but well before the sun rose on Green Day, or practically any other band heard on Sirius 26), I found all kinds of ways to dodge The Question:

“What are you going to name the baby?”

Even now, when I hear someone else – even a total stranger – being asked The Question, I want to shriek, “Don’t answer!  It’s a trick!  You’re about to have your bubble burst, your dreams shattered!  You’re exposing your tender and most intimately-considered plans to a gut-sucking, albeit cape-less, emotional marauder of comic book proportions.” 

No, I don’t think I’m overstating.

We hear stories of newborns named, unexpectedly, after obstetricians, nurses, and, if you ascribe to urban myth, hospital food.  Surely you’ve heard of the tiny twins afflicted with the unfortunate monikers of “Orangello” and “Limongello,” ostensibly for the gelatin flavors the new mom most enjoyed post-delivery?  Truth be told, who could blame her?  After all the baby-naming babble and umbilical cord snipping and opinion-injection of every English-speaking person on the planet – and perhaps a few Aussies – it’s easy to lose track of your own opinion.

Did I really name my kid ‘Orangello’?  Do I even like ‘Orangello’?  Didn’t I hear about a school bully named ‘Orangello’?  Wait.  Am I hungry?  Are you going to eat that chicken?  Can we have Jello for dessert?  Maybe banana-strawberry flavored?

High school reunions, it seems, evoke a similar reaction.  Everyone has an opinion.  And the current universal opinion seems to be that I’m a smack-talking, lily-livered, Scotch-drinking, feather-shedding chicken butt.

I recently wrote about my ambivalence – fine, call the spade by its name, “terror” – regarding my upcoming 30^th high school reunion.  I couldn’t believe how many people chirped up.   You have to go.  30^th is the best ever.  Everyone’s counting on you.  You’ll regret it if you don’t.

Holy cow.  (Or, as my mom’s husband says, “sanctified bovine.”)

I’m going already.  But until then, I’m working my butt off.  Actually, that’s not accurate.  I know you can’t “work” your butt off.  Nor can you “talk” someone’s ear off.  And saddest of all, you can’t “laugh” your ass off. 

I’ve tried. If all it took was working, talking and laughing, I'd be the skinniest person around.  And my friends wouldn't have anything to hook their sunglasses onto.  But I’ve tugged on those “fat jeans.”  Trust me, everything's still there.

I’ve got a few months to go, though.  I just need to work out more.  And eat better. 

This Black Bean and Corn Salad is a good start.  Easy to make, lots of protein, lots of fiber and low in fat.  It’s really, really good served as  a salsa with Fritos Scoopers, too.  But for now, I’m passing on Fritos.  Jello, too.

Besides.  I heard that Orangello might make it to the reunion.

Black Bean and Corn Salad With Lime Dressing

1 can black beans, rinsed and drained well

1 can sweet corn, rinsed and drained well

½ cup finely chopped red onion

½ cup finely chopped red bell pepper

juice of two limes (about ¼ cup)

¼ cup canola oil

½ teaspoon chili powder

½ teaspoon kosher salt

¼ teaspoon fresh ground pepper

1 avocado, peeled and sliced, or optionally, halved

Combine all ingredients except avocado.  Stir gently and refrigerate until well chilled.  Serve over avocado slices.

High School Daze: Reunions, Cocktail Sauce and Self-Doubt.

We’re the best, ain’t no maybe.

We’re the Class of 1980.

What was I thinking?

I was back in Charleston a few months ago and ran into a friend from high school.  Really nice guy.  Married.  After a couple of graciously-poured single malt Scotches, one thing led to another, and yep, you guessed it, I agreed to organize our 30^th class reunion.  (That is what you guessed, right?)

What was I thinking?

It’s not so surprising that I agreed to spearhead the Fort Johnson High School Class of 1980 reunion.  I went to school with lots of exceptionally capable, energetic, well-organized folks, and many of them still live in Charleston.  They know local caterers and bartenders and DJs, and the truth is, if there’s one thing the Fort Johnson Trojans know how to do, it’s throw a party.  My friends have already unearthed people I thought we’d never track down.  You can bet my classmates will be the ones to pull this thing off.

What’s surprising is that I agreed to go at all.

High school is four years of the most fun you’ll ever have.  Forty-eight months of growth and experimentation and self-realization.  Forty-eight months of doubt and awkwardness and self-loathing.

I’d want to re-visit that why?

We graduated in 1980.  Flash forward 30 years.  You know that girl who hasn’t gained an ounce since graduation?  You hate her, right?  Well then, you’d love me.

Based on what I'm hearing from former classmates, I'm not alone.  Plainly, some of that doubt and awkwardness and self-loathing is still lodged in place.  I know.  It's not like I'm a candidate for The Biggest Loser.  Let's just say I no longer have to worry about the American Red Cross telling me I don’t weigh enough to donate blood.  My wrinkles resemble those on nearly any 47-year-old – not the crevasses I deserve after all those 6-hour days on the beach.  We'd never even heard of "sunscreen."  There was "suntan lotion" (for "deep, dark, tropical tans) and Johnson & Johnson baby oil (for sizzling, searing, blistering burns).  And my hair?  Well, it’s nothing that a bottle of Clairol Nice ‘n Easy can’t remedy.  OK.  That’s a lie.  Nothing my fabulous hair stylist can’t remedy.  (Love you, Crystal!)

You have to wonder to what extent hair salons, weight loss programs, clothing boutiques and, let’s be honest, cosmetic surgeons, rely on class reunions.  Sure, they only come around every five to 10 years, but when they do, hoo boy.  New Year’s resolutions pale in comparison.  I don’t just want to lose weight.  I want to be adorably slim, totally ripped, fabulously dressed, sophisticatedly coiffed, and, of course, ridiculously happy with my station in life.  And natch, tan.

So yeah.  I’ll be there.  But I’m not eating anything until August 7, 2010.  Well, except chai tea lattes.  And maybe sangria.

So I hope my classmates arrange to have fabulous food at the reunion.  And since we'll be in the Lowcountry, I bet some of it will require cocktail sauce.

It’ll be a bit too early for oysters, but shrimp?  Definitely.  And where there’s shrimp, there’s cocktail sauce.  And with luck, a 1980 Fort Johnson Trojan who’s a few pounds – and a few hair shades – lighter.

Cocktail Sauce (for Seafood)

There are plenty of bottled cocktail sauces out there, but I don’t know anyone who buys them.  There’s no reason to buy someone else’s cocktail sauce when you can make your own with three simple ingredients.

1 12-ounce bottle of Heinz Chili Sauce

2 tablespoons fresh squeezed lemon juice

2 tablespoons (or more, to taste) refrigerated prepared horseradish

Combine all ingredients.  Chill and serve with fresh poached local shrimp.  Or oysters.  Or even saltine crackers.  Yum.

The Time Is Right For Bacon and Egg Salad Sandwiches.

We are not a sandwich family.

While there’s no denying the convenience of eating right out of one’s hand (all hail the Earl of Sandwich), and while I do love me some Subway (ham and swiss on wheat with lettuce, banana peppers, black olives, pickles and mustard), I don’t know that I’ve ever  -- ever, ever, ever, -- set out to make a sandwich just for myself.  In fact, as I look over the 100+ recipes in Feminine Wiles, there’s only one sandwich recipe – for tuna salad (which is very, very good, but I'd just as soon eat with a fork).

The kids, I suspect, feel the same way about sandwiches.  Yes, I pack their lunches every day, but unless I insist on variety, it’s always the same:  peanut butter.  Not peanut butter and jelly (the classic).  Not peanut butter and banana (a Southern treat).  Not peanut butter and honey (my brother’s childhood favorite).  Not peanut butter and bacon (although knowing their fondness for bacon, that one’s a mystery). 

Just peanut butter.

However, knowing Son and Darling Daughter as I do, I’m betting many of those peanut butter sandwiches, lovingly made before they board the bus at 7:30 a.m., never make it past anyone’s lips.  At least not Son’s and Darling Daughter’s.  I know they’re not sandwich-eaters.  Likewise, I know what else is tucked in those lunch bags.  Fruit.  Oreos.  Pringles.  The occasional snack bag of M&Ms.  I’m just saying.

On Easter, though, I can’t help but think of sandwiches.  Egg salad sandwiches.  Which, as noted, go against everything I believe in. 

  

My mom’s husband insists that, if pimento cheese sandwiches and egg salad sandwiches (on white bread) were not served at your wedding reception, you are not, in fact, really married.  And before you even ask, yes -- both were on my wedding buffet 25 years ago.  Look, I’m not saying it’s guaranteed.  But it couldn’t hurt.

Still, I don’t like cold hard-boiled eggs – and have a particular suspicion for those that are garishly colored and retrieved during a “hunt.”  I can't abide the texture of boiled egg whites – there’s something decidedly “un-foodlike” about them.  I don’t trust mayonnaise, and in most cases, distrust people who do.  And didn't I mention?  I’m not a sandwich kind of girl.

But it’s Easter.  So I’m eating egg salad.  Carefully.

My own recipe -- very little mayonnaise, a little zip of whole grain mustard or horseradish, very finely chopped whites, fresh dill while I've got it, and just to mix it up -- bacon -- because as everybody knows, bacon makes everything better.  (Bacon Bloody Mary, anyone?)

And yes, if I ever re-married, you can bet there would be egg salad sandwiches.  Or, at least, egg salad on crackers.

Happy Easter, folks!

Bacon and Egg Salad Sandwiches

6 eggs

3-4 tablespoons mayonnaise

1 teaspoon (or more) whole grain Dijon mustard

¼ teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon fresh dill, minced (optional)

3 strips bacon, fried until very crisp and chopped fine

fresh ground black pepper (lots)

Cook eggs.  Put eggs in pot and cover with cold water.  Bring to a boil.  Once boiling, reduce heat to a simmer and cook for five minutes.  Then, turn off heat, put lid on pot, and let rest for five additional minutes.  Drain and fill pan with cool water.  When eggs are somewhat cool, remove from pan and peel.  Cut peeled eggs in half and remove yolks to a medium-sized mixing bowl.  Finely chop egg whites.  Set aside.  Using a fork, mash the egg yolks, gradually stirring in mayonnaise, one tablespoon at a time.  Consistency should be very smooth.  Stir in salt, pepper, dill and bacon.  Finally, stir in egg whites.  Serve, chilled on toasted wheat bread or crackers, garnishing with additional dill and bacon, if desired.