The Foyer Weeknight Bunch
Clockwise from left: Reba, Jeffrey (chef advisor), Jill, Helga, Charles, Susan, and Margaret. I’m the bright spot, of course, in the mirror.
It all began … Actually, I was going to start out with “In the beginning” but another book starts out that way. Well, anyway, it was my turn to cook. Foyer groups are groups of eight (more or less) folks who meet once monthly at each other’s place to share food and fellowship and a beverage or two. And my not being a cook was the challenge to me and maybe even a dare from them!
These meals are supposed to be simple and, qualifying for a simple person, my very first Foyer meal years ago consisted of hot dogs and for dessert we shared a box of Godiva chocolates. Can’t git no simpler’n that, yes?
Much advice was asked and much advice was given. Jeffrey (the Jeffrey Jeff, not the Deff Jeff Jeff formerly of Delta, now planting people for Pattersons!) offered assistance as did other volunteers at the Thrift House. Now that I have a brand new unused eighteen thousand dollar kitchen there was no viable excuse I could come up with so the menu developed. I figured that even I could cook chicken breasts for eight, and went out and bought two to practice on, threw them suckers in the oven, slapped some butter on, turned the oven (not even knowing if it worked!) to 350 and baked them for about an hour. Emboldened with success on the dry run I came up with a simple menu. Jeffrey did not approve of my chocolate covered jell-o petit fours as horse dervies but I wanted to use the cheese servers that Jean gave me for “kitchen open house” so I settled on cheese and crackers. (How original! I’m sure you’re thinking.) And wine, of course: they’re Episcopalians–all but Jeffrey–you know!
To give my chicken breasts some oomph, Hattie suggested that I marinate them in Italian dressing, which I did. At first it was my thought to smother them in mushroom gravy, but that sounds sooo Methodist Covered Dish-ish, doesn’t it? So it was Hattie’s Breasts (hope she doesn’t mind my naming it after her) that I served. My sister Jean furnished green beans and her exceptional pound cake. The ‘maters from Kroger were very good. The red and white wine helped us converse while Helga and Susan toured downtown Atlanta.
The Landmark: my condominium downtown
Good thing about visiting my slum is that I have a very good view of the downtown skyline and guests are so busy enjoying the view they don’t take note that I’m a boring host.
Everybody said it was very good. It was, and I was surprised. Which one of them said I shouldn’t give up my day job? I guess the best compliment came from Jeffrey, who merely said he was surprised I did it! He, as first time guest, by the way, was unanimously elected into the group and made an honorary Episcopalian, and was volunteered to assist with the martinis at Reba’s bash next month, September 11th. The date sounds familiar for some reason. Don’t know what’s so hard about making a martini. Don’t you just get a glass, pour in some vodka, and that’s it? And, oh yes, put an olive in it; adds color. You can tell when one’s an alcoholic when they ask you to leave the olive out because it takes up too much room.
I thought of Jeffrey and Reba’s martinis-to-be recently when I heard Rodney Dangerfield on the Comedy Channel say that he’s been drinking so much that when he went to the doctor to take a urine sample it had an olive in it!
Sorry to say, A. J. Hammer or Anderson Cooper didn’t bring a crew to cover this exciting culinary event which I call The First Supper. Too bad I bought dishes that you can’t put in the dishwasher!