Holiday Goodies

As each time zone in the world welcomed the new millennium, twelve people in a little flat in San Francisco celebrated with a unique dining experience.

The New Year’s Eve feast began at 4pm Pacific Time with long-life noodles and caviar tarts, as Sonja, her husband Dave and their guests joined a few billion people who were still partying in Asia and Russia.

Then, every hour on the hour, wherever it was midnight, they served assorted bite-sized cuisine indigenous to countries where the 21st century had just begun. 

May 5th is Cinco de Mayo, the day when Mexicans commemorate their victory over the French in the Battle at Puebla of 1862. In the Mexican town of Puebla, schoolchildren will study history, artists will sing and dance and chefs will cook traditional foods, all to honor their brave ancestors.

And in cities throughout America, Americans will get drunk. Somehow, this day of national pride for Mexicans has become another excuse for Americans to get sloshed. Think I'm exaggerating? According to Time magazine Cinco de Mayo is the 4th drunkest holiday of the year.

How about this year you get drunk on bacon guacamole instead?

If you think traditional guacamole is irresistible, then be prepared to get punch drunk in love with this porky version: Classic creamy guacamole is studded with nibs of salty, smoky, crisp bacon.

And in case you're wondering, yes, bacon guacamole does taste better if you eat it while wearing a sombrero and shaking some maracas.

Allen Byers was a creature of habit.  He made traditional stuffing, took a nap at the same time every day and was better at giving presents in June then he was at Christmas.  Although I never would have dared suggest changing his nap time, one year I did work up the courage to suggest he try a stuffing recipe from his favorite cookbook, THE ALICE'S RESTAURANT COOKBOOK.  Even though what the book proudly declared was Alice's favorite stuffing didn't call for any of the traditional ingredients, he let me talk him into trying it. 

Sometimes I wonder if I'm truly an American. I mean, I have never eaten a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on white bread, I have never eaten at Taco Bell, and despite its nearly iconic status in American cuisine, I cannot abide green bean casserole. You know the one – green beans with cream of mushroom soup, topped with crispy fried onions.

Growing up, I never knew what a casserole was; my mom (and grandmother) never made them. After hearing about green bean casserole from friends at school, I felt like I was missing out – I told my mom, "It has fried onions on top! It's like green beans with Funyuns!" The next day she bought the ingredients for green bean casserole; I couldn't have been happier.

Unfortunately, she made the green bean casserole in front of my grandmother, Nan. I still remember her look of shock when my mom opened the can of fried onions. "Onions in a can? Who ever heard of such a thing? And who puts soup on string beans?" she said, "Bah, that's American food." I reminded her, "Nan, we are American." "Yeah," she replied, "but we cook Italian."

Despite Nan's protests, I got my green bean casserole. I was giddy with anticipation. Unfortunately, with the first bite, my giddiness ended. Green bean casserole was nothing more than mushy green beans topped with salty soup and greasy onions.