Thanksgiving 2013 - Thankful for 24-hour Au Bon Pain

It’s not a Pineda holiday without some kind of drama. This year, my dad decided to scare the bejesus out of us by heading to the ICU over the Thanksgiving holiday. He’s been dealing with a long term illness for the past few months, but seemed to be making good progress...

...until the day before Thanksgiving.

We are a family known for its procrastinating tendencies, but within a few hours of Trish’s panicked phone call, Juan, Val and I were packed into the van and speeding through freezing rain and sleet on our way to Richmond. It was a wild few days, but dad is now out of the hospital and recuperating.

The last minute venue change didn't stop us from keeping the holiday spirit alive. We still managed to have our Thanksgiving turkey dinner with all the trimmings. But instead of a cozy sit-down at the family dinner table, we took turns noshing in the hospital cafeteria. Institutionally prepared, mass-produced turkey and stuffing never tasted so good. And we didn't have to wash any dishes. Thank you, lunch ladies!

Only two guests allowed in a patient's room at a time in the ICU. So we got cozy in the waiting room with our computers and plentiful snacks. Nothing like festive over-nighter in a sterile hospital lounge to bolster your holiday spirit.

Thankfully, dad was well enough to be moved to a regular floor after a couple of days. We spent the rest of the week in a spacious private hospital suite large enough to accommodate the whole Pineda clan, including a surprise visit from a very pregnant cousin Marion. And did I mention the 24-hour Au Bon Pain in the lobby? That's right, we had all night access to chocolate croissants and English toffee cookies.

Per usual, our unique brand of Pineda charm (persistent neediness to some) and good looks quickly won over the staff. It also didn't hurt that we plied the nurses with all sorts of goodies gathered from home from our Thanksgiving celebration that never was. Amazing how free cake can cement a relationship - and get you extra ice cream.

Dad's final day at the hospital coincided with mom and dad's wedding anniversary (as well as Trish's birthday!). As a wonderful final gesture, the whole nursing staff stopped by for a cheerful bon voyage complete with anniversary cupcakes for the happy couple.

Our intrepid nursing staff, technicians and food service professionals all stopped by on dad's final day to say "good-bye" and ...

...to present the anniversary couple with celebratory cupcakes!

I wish all the doctors, nurses and staff at MCV a hearty "thank you" for contributing to a memorable Thanksgiving 2013. And here's hoping for some boring, non-eventful holidays to come.

Giving Thanks to Bobby Flay

I think the Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving is way over-rated.  I mean, I’m all for family and obscene gluttony, but do you think that sweet, white-haired granny was thankful for getting up at four in the morning to shove a hormone-jacked turkey into the oven for that brood of grinning lazy-asses who just stopped by for a free meal?  Notice the only person in the photo without a huge, toothy grin is granny.   Her and gramps are definitely putting on a polite face, but what I see under those wire-rimmed glasses is a thought bubble that reads, “You ungrateful bastards only come and visit me once a year and then expect me to cook you a bacchanalian feast.  Damn you all!”

Thankfully, the Pineda clan decided against a Rockwellian feast but instead opted for a civilized sit down at Bobby Flay's Bar Americain.  Why slave in the kitchen all day when you can have illegal immigrants slave for you in a fancy New York restaurant?  For less than the price of a Broadway show, you get a gourmet meal served to you by an army of doting waiters and hostesses.  What's not to be thankful for?

We stuffed ourselves silly on some rather un-Thanksgiving-like choices - rack of lamb, pork chops and prime rib - no gobblers on our table.  For eighty bucks, I'm not going to order something I can get in a Hungry-Man meal out of our grocery store freezer.  Unfortunately, dad just recently underwent oral surgery so he had to settle for the less meaty, though tasty, salmon option.

This was actually the second time we've taken advantage of Bobby Flay's culinary skills over the holiday.  Two year's ago, Juan, Val and I gave thanks here when the rest of the clan was unable to make the trip up to Jersey for the holiday. 

Following the meal, we waddled down Sixth Avenue with stomachs distended and made an impromptu stop at Radio City for some picture taking.  Swept up by the holiday spirit and the crowd gathered outside, Juan and Val decided we needed some post-meal time with the Rockettes.  So with two minutes to show time, Juan got in line and bought tickets for the whole family.

I've seen my share of Radio City Christmas Spectaculars given the fact I basically followed my good friend Chris around the country during his heyday as a Radio City dancer and Santa understudy.  No matter how many times you see them, those damn Rockettes never fail to disappoint.  Even with the music hall's new, cheesy digital backdrop, you can't help but catch some Christmas spirit with all those high kicking legs.  My only gripe is the director's blatant attempt to capture the teen boy demographic with that awful (and painfully overlong) video game sequence.  If you can't get a boy to pay attention with 50 half-naked women on stage, a video game ain't gonna' help.  My dad actually fell asleep during that sequence.  'Nuff said?

Val, Trish, Me, mom and dad at Thanksgiving dinner.  Juan used the fancy new panorama setting on his iPhone.

The only drawback to a restaurant Thanksgiving is that there are no leftovers to gnaw on when you get the munchies at midnight after throwing-up your dinner.  We managed to solve this little dilemma by throwing a second, post-Thanksgiving "Thanksgiving" dinner the following Saturday.  You may well ask, “Dearest Fausto, doesn’t that defeat the purpose of going out and having a restaurant Thanksgiving?”  Not if you order your post-Thanksgiving "Thanksgiving" dinner from a supermarket, silly.

Yes, thanks to the lovely folks at Martin's (formerly Ukrop's) supermarket in Richmond, we had a full Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings pre-cooked and ready for reheating.  No peeling potatoes or turkey basting this year.  And you still get your bag-o-leftovers for the rest of the week.  I'd say that's a win-win all around.

Turkey Day

Val getting saucy with the turkey.

By past holiday standards, this year’s Pineda Thanksgiving was strangely uneventful - nay, downright boring (in a good way).  Mom and dad decided to drive up from Richmond on Thanksgiving morning, so we had all day to relax in our jammies, watch the parade and prepare for the obscene gluttony to come.

This year’s theme was “A Food Network Thanksgiving.”  Yes, we actually had a theme.  We’re cheesy like that.  What do you expect from a family of thespians?



My from-scratch pumpkin gnocchi with spinach pesto.

 Val, per usual, was in charge of the turkey, so she tasked the rest of the siblings to prepare a side dish by one of the food network chefs.  Over achiever that I am, I combined a couple of different recipes to come up with my final dish - pumpkin gnocchi with spinach pesto and pine nuts.  Sounds impressive, no?  Going for those extra credit points (can you tell I was a total nerd in high school?), I also decided to prepare a dessert - Chuck Hughes’ chocolate stout cake.



Having worked a half day at the Morg (i.e. Morgan Stanley) Wednesday, I headed to Jersey that same night looking like a bag lady.  I wanted to make everything fresh, so I lugged all my ingredients on the bus with me.  At least I was able to snag a double seat for myself. 

All was calm when I got to Juan and Val’s.  Even the turkey was relaxing, brining casually in a giant cooler in the kitchen.



My stout cake fresh out of the oven.

We got up Thanksgiving morning just in time to watch the Broadway shows embarrass themselves on the Macy’s parade telecast.  Not that any of the participating shows are that bad (with maybe the exception of Spider-man), but seeing the performances out of context without sets and in the middle of a street aren’t exactly optimal viewing conditions.  I’m sure Joe Schmoe in Idaho was wondering why anyone would pony up 130 bucks to see a bunch of dancing nuns.  It’s all about context.  They should scrap the live performance element altogether and just show a pre-taped clip from the stage of the theatre.  It’s not like the performance is really “live” anyway, since the cast is lip-synching to a track. 

When mom and dad finally arrived, we broke out the chips, dips and cheeses and started our slow descent into Thanksgiving madness.  By the time dinner rolled around, our appetites were completely ruined and I could barely manage to force down a bite of turkey and just a fork-full of gnocchi. 

Ah well, that’s what the holiday is all about, isn’t it?  Eating until you need your stomach pumped and then sleeping it off?  Anyway, my gnocchi was a big hit, even though mom couldn’t pronounce it, and the

stout cake was delish. 

A close-up of my lip-smacking chocolate stout cake.

Thankful for butter!

In an attempt to guarantee Val keeps all her fingers intact this year, I invited the Jersey Pinedas to Thanksgiving in Queens where I spent hours - no, days - slaving in my tiny, unventilated kitchen preparing a lavish feast to rival the debaucherous ways of the ancient Romans and Greeks.  Not.  I booked a reservation at Bar Americain and made Bobby Flay my Thanksgiving bitch.  Yes, this may be a Pineda first, Thanksgiving dinner in a - gasp! - restaurant.  Well, all I can say is why haven’t we done this sooner?  I mean, it honestly costs about the same.  Except unlike your home, a wait staff is at your beck and call, you don’t have to wash dishes, and the food eventually stops coming so you don’t unconsciously eat until you fall into a food coma.

My Bobby Flay Thanksgiving started with a delightful citrus rum drink with a brown sugar rim.  I shouldn’t continue without warning you many innocent sticks of butter gave their lives up for my holiday enjoyment.  First course was a butter-licious bowl of shrimp and grits with bacon followed by a Flintstone-sized slab of prime rib topped with, you guessed it, more melted butter.  Oh, the humanity!  Dessert was a yummy profiterole swimming in a delectable smoky-sweet caramel brittle sauce.  Of course, we all made sure to order different items and passed the plates around.  So I also got a bit of Juan’s apple glazed pork chops and Val’s heavenly lamb. 

Since no holiday can go by without someone family member incurring an injury, Juan was gracious enough to take one for the team.  He arrived at my apartment with a swollen foot and had to hobble around the city all day.  Since the weather sucked (cold and rainy), we just made a quick, after-dinner stop at the Bryant Park holiday bazaar to do some window shopping and watch the ice skaters careen uncontrollably around the rain-slicked temporary rink.  There’s nothing like a good dose of schadenfreude to brighten up a dreary holiday evening.

We ended the evening in our PJ’s watching a heartwarming film to get us into the holiday spirit, Predators.  Yes, the loving tale of an alien race that takes pleasure in hunting and killing humans for sport.  It really gives you the warm fuzzies.  Strangely, something about murder and death made Val think of Joey’s cats and how she had forgotten to feed them.  The thought of starving felines so overwhelmed Val that they decided to cut their stay short.  Tired and stomachs full of red meat, they took off late last night and headed straight to Joey's to give the cats their Thanksgiving meal.   

Today I am at my empty office waiting for the day to end.  Luckily, we’re off at two so I’ll have the rest of the day to nap and eat.  I’m continuing my Thanksgiving gluttony this afternoon with a tray of homemade sausage stuffing and apple crisp that I had prepared for Juan, Val and I to nosh on throughout the night.  Oh well, more for me I guess.  Oh, and I almost forgot about that pitcher of sangria I’ve had fermenting in the fridge for the last three days.  I guess I’ll be full and drunk by about four this afternoon (and laying with my head in the toilet by around eight).  Don’t try calling.  I won’t answer.

Happy Holidays!

Where have I been?

After posting about the blizzard and the holiday concert, I realized there's a month-long lapse in posts starting before Turkey day. So since I’m stuck at my desk at work while everyone else is living large on vacation, I thought I’d hit some of the Pineda family highlights from Thanksgiving onward. Happy Tuesday!

Stuff it!

This year we congregated at Chez Val et Juan (that's "Juan and Val's house" for you mono-linguists) for this year’s Turkey day gluttony. The excitement started early when Val decided to add a slice of her finger to the candied yams. Yum! And since timing is everything, wouldn’t you know, just as Trish and Val ran out the front door on their way to the Medemerg for some stitches, mom and dad (the brown ones) conveniently pulled into the drive way. After waving the parents back, the ladies raced off, leaving Juan and I to finish up the cooking. Thankfully, we only had some reheating and basting left to do.

As per the normal Pineda Thanksgiving ritual, the day revolved around gorging, sleeping and crapping. Come to think of it, just about any gathering of two or more Pinedas seems to follow the same basic pattern. At least we’re consistent. This gathering was small by Pineda standards, with Val’s Aunt Mary and Uncle Doug and Trish’s friend, Billy, joining the family for dinner. Note to self (and everyone else), ixnay on the universalsay ealthcarehay in front of Uncle Doug. Just trust me on that one.

Sadly, our attempt at Black Friday shopping fizzled. In our efforts to top last year’s miserable shopping failure, we set our alarm clocks for 3 am. But somehow we couldn’t drag our fat, tired asses out of bed. Instead, we slept in and hit the stores at around noon. We lasted all of an hour before giving up on the lines and nasty shoppers. Why does bargain shopping turn people into total biyatches?! Instead, we opted to get all Martha Stewart on the holiday and hit Michael’s for some crafting supplies. I then spent the rest of the evening creating the gayest Christmas wreath ever, complete with red lily’s and feather butterflies. Yes, feather butterflies. Don’t judge.

Here we come a-wassailing…

As some of you know, I’ve been caroling with my good friend Donald Birely’s company for years. Unfortunately, with the economy in the toilet people haven’t been willing to pry open their wallets to pay for some holiday cheer. With only a couple gigs for me this year, the old top hat and tails didn’t see much action. I did manage to snag a couple of sweet swag bags from one gig. Don’t worry Donald, I didn’t steal them, they were offered to me.

While we’re on the caroling topic, I just want to know why people insist on talking to us while we're singing. Do they expect us to stop mid-Fa-la-la to reply? Are they testing our caroling commitment and waiting to report us to the caroling police? Please help me understand. And since I’m already in rant mode - do people forget that we’re human beings, not Disney animatronics? No, we cannot sing non-stop for three hours outside in 20-degree weather because you like “the look” of us standing in that 2-foot snow drift in front of your store window!

Sorry, I just finally needed to get those complaints off my chest and in writing. My fellow carolers have been bitching for years now about the same things every year and nothing ever seems to change. Okay, I’m better now. The valium has taken effect.

The Christmas Tree Shoppes…

Well, this is my new favorite store. Why? Where else can you buy flashing snowflakes, toilet seat decals and travel-sized shaving cream all in one store! And what do shaving cream and toilet seat decals have to do with Christmas? Absolutely nothing! That’s why I love this place. Go visit, you won’t regret it. But I have to say "word up" to the Paramus store. You kick the Springfield store's ass.

Well, I think that just about hits the high points. I’m sure there will be more family hijinks and bitter feelings to report soon, so check back often! Happy Kwanzachristmanukah!

Happy belated T-day! Gobble, gobble

Well, I've finally found some time to update. I can't believe how much sh*t's happened since my last non-review entry before Thanksgiving. It's all a nauseating blur. I'll just run down the bullet points.

I flew to Richmond the night before Thanksgiving. It was my first time home in over a year. We released mom from her oven shackles, unbuttoned our pants and went to a local buffet. Why did we never do this before? I mean, you can sleep in, eat all the turkey, ham and trimmings you want and you don't have to clean a single dish. Genius. The rest of the day was spent wallowing in gastric pain and watching really bad TV - a perfect holiday scenario.

Since we lazed around the house all day, we decided last minute to make a Black Friday run to the outlet mall in Williamsburg, VA, which opened its doors at midnight. As it turned out, we were one of thousands of families that thought this was somehow a good idea. Even before we got to the exit, it was stand still traffic miles away from the shops and it was friggin' 12 o' clock at night! When we finally got to the entrance of the mall, all the parking lots were full and barricaded closed. So we had no choice but to turn around and drive back to Richmond. Three hours later and empty handed, we arrived back home. Everyone decided to get up at 4am and head out to the stores. I decided to go to bed and not get up until my bladder forced me.

Since Juan, Val, Trish and Billy (Trish's best friend from Richmond who recently moved to Astoria) had driven to Richmond earlier in the week, I road-tripped back with them rather than fly. The ride was uneventful, unless you'd call a painful case of nearly explosive diarrhea an "event." Soon after getting home, I realized I had gotten some crazy food poisoning or caught a stomach virus. So I ended up missing Sunday's all day tech rehearsal for HSM. I'm not sure what's worse, ten hours of tech or ten hours on the toilet.

Anyway, the rest of the week was spent at my daily 9 to 5 and commuting back and forth to NJ for rehearsals. I would not recommend this schedule for anyone trying to recuperate from illness. One five-show weekend later, I'm finally feeling better. I dropped off 20 pounds of dirty laundry (literally), cleaned all the dishes in the sink and cleared the debris from my living room floor. I'm finally returning to the land of civilized behavior just in time to start rehearsals for our Holiday concert, prepare for Carmen rehearsals and finish up the run of HSM with a six-show weekend. Yippee!!!

Me feeling bloated and nauseous after way too much turkey and stuffing.

Giblets, Part Deux

So I found out that Val actually does use the giblets to make gravy (although she does strain out the innards before serving) and that giblets do not come in a can except in certain brands of cat food. So my previous post about housewives fighting over cans of giblets makes absolutely no sense at all. Oh well, that's what you get for being misogynistic I guess.

Right after my first T-day post I got so tired from the tryptophan that I didn't have the energy to write about the rest of the meal. Suffice it to say, I had more than enough to eat. I won't go into details because quite frankly it's boring - stuffing, turkey, mashed potatoes, blah, blah, blah. So I'm going to put my sweats on and head for the gym for an extreme workout, and by workout I mean heating up left over mashed potatoes and gravy, sitting in my underwear and watching reruns of Ugly Betty saved on my DVR.

The picture to the left is not from Thanksgiving (I believe it's Trish and I suffering immensely after eating half-pound burgers, onion rings and cheese fries at Cheeburger Cheeburger in Westfield), but it is pretty much representative of how I felt after devouring Thanksgiving dinner, dessert and second dinner. Stay tuned and later I'll post a picture of me just minutes before giving birth to my food baby Thursday night.

Size Matters

I can barely move and I'm nine months pregnant with a huge food baby. I'm very close to the point of sticking a finger down my throat to alleviate the pain. I need to take a long nap and wait for all of this to pass - literally. So I will continue with details later tonight after I've a had an hour or two on the porcelain throne. I want to know what all of you ate tonight - so post your comments and the most decadent food orgy wins!

What's a Giblet?

The hours crawled by this afternoon at my temp job. Visions of stuffing and mashed potatoes made me groggy and sleepy. Luckily, I was able to skip out an hour early and headed home before taking my chances on NJ Transit for the dreaded bus ride to Scotch Plains, NJ. First, I had to make a stop at my bank because someone has been using my debit card to pay for their electric bill someplace in upstate New York. Note to criminals - if you are going to commit credit card fraud, do not use it to pay for something as easily traceable as an electric bill you dumb f**k! - but that's for another rant.

My contribution to the table this year is a homemade apple pie. Now usually I buy one from Little Pie Company (note there is no "the", so don't all be writing and trying to get up in my "bidniz"), namely the sour cream apple walnut pie - it's like buttah' - as my imaginary Jewish grandmother would say. I wasn't able to bake the night before because Magic Flute let out at 11:15 and I lost my cell phone - AGAIN! - somewhere in the Met and couldn't find it. And some genius has decided that the most convenient hours for a "lost and found" to be open is from 2 to 4 pm, Monday through Friday. Hello!?!?!? Who's free from 2 to 4 pm, Monday through Friday? Answer: actors and the unemployed, which makes no sense since neither can afford to go to the opera. Some dude at the Met is making a mint selling cell phones, glasses and single gloves on eBay. But I digress.

So I jammed all the ingredients I bought last night into an insulated bag and into my rolling back pack. I've recently upgraded to the rolling kind because I'm getting old and don't care about looking cool anymore carrying it by one strap over the shoulder. I'm sure in a decade or so some scientist will publish a report about all the lopsided adults in this country resulting from excessive use of backpacks over one shoulder during adolescence. All you cool kids, please start alternating shoulders or just wear them over both shoulders as they were meant to be.

Anyway, the bus ride was oddly uneventful and I hit absolutely no traffic. Once I got to Juan and Val's I started unpacking so that I could bake and go to bed and rest up for the gastronomic orgy to come tomorrow. Guess what this genius forgot to pack? The apples, of course. So I had to head out the A&P and buy friggin' apples. Fine. The grocery store was again weirdly empty. Has everyone decided to skip Thanksgiving this year? Although I would have bitched the whole time, I was sort of hoping to see a mob of crazy sweatsuit-clad housewives (and husbands, don't get all feminist on me) ripping each other's hair out for the last can of giblets. What are giblets, anyway? Tiny gibs? Well, disappointed at not having witnessed a pre-T'day food fight at the A&P, I drove back to Juan & Val's, baked my Paula Dean apple pie, and now on my way to bed. Can't wait to eat myself into a food coma and complain about it all day.