Well, I'm going to be a bit honest here... While my friends in the San Francisco area were enjoying 75 degree weather and enjoying their local farmers' markets, we were busy digging ourselves out from yet another snow storm. Working on breaking a 1939 record or so I hear. We had a blast with our neighbors, who called to say we were all snowed in (thanks to a mean-spirited plowman who left a 3 1/2 foot ridge of ice at the foot of our driveways), let's get together an eat whatever's in our refrigerators. It was hilarious. They brought two pasta appetizers (gnocchi with blue cheese sauce, spaghetti al forno), we had wet-aged Black Angus NY steaks with a balsamic thyme shallot sauce topped with buttermilk battered onion rings plus a green salad with toasted pecans and avocado. For dessert, we had homemade caramel-poached pears on vanilla ice cream. Not bad, eh?
The problem was that we also drank 4 bottles of wine and half a bottle of Grey Goose vodka (neighbor Ron's favorite). Somewhere into the second bottle (and after a lovely shaken martini), I was deep fat frying the onion rings. Unfortunately, I was apparently using a pot that wasn't deep enough for the festivities. Peanut oil spewed out of the pan and onto the stove and floor (and our clothes). Ever the calm one in an emergency, I simply stated "I'll go get the fire extinguisher" to which my husband said, "It's not going to catch on fire." Two seconds go by and.... Whooof. The whole stovetop is aflame. We tamped it down without the extinguisher, what a mess. We're still laughing about it today (while we all shoveled out yet again after another foot of snow).
Tonight, I think we'll have, hmmmm....