The most unexpectedly compelling Christmas gift so far (I haven’t received all of my presents yet) is Sodalicious, a self-published cookbook written by the father of one of my mom’s coworkers. Every recipe includes soda as an ingredient, even though I don’t drink the stuff, only a scrooge could resist the charm of 7Up Pork Squares. All you do is cook up pork sausage, onions, celery and 7UP, of course, and bake in a pie crust.
I never think of the northwest as being terribly regional food-wise (though pop is the preferred Oregonian term for sweet carbonated beverages. I always hated that term, especially when my grandma said it, so I made a concerted effort to not use it as a kid. I guess I was one bratty grade schooler) so it is fun to see local soda brands like Shasta being name checked.
I also received a classic box of See’s candy and Foodie Fight, which I would definitely play despite its name containing the most offending of all F words. Um, except no one will play games with me. Maybe because I’m so freaking fussy about words.
James got me a carbon steel wok that I’ve been needing/wanting for a while. Oh, and a bunch of cheese. I got excited when I saw the Murray’s wrappers in the crisper drawer. Would my latest obsession, Hooligan be inside? Eh, no, and I’m not one to complain about Idiazabal and 5 Spoke Creamery’s Tumbleweed, but I should’ve guessed. James always buys hard, sharp cheeses when I dig squishier, smellier stuff.
And well, I went eBay crazy and bought myself a poster of Persians (felines not Iranians) eating a sundae and a horrible fat cat tea towel. I’m currently fixated on cats eating ice cream, not in reality, just the idea. I’m still not completely sold on cats eating lasagna, however. My cat is crying this very second because I’m making her eat Nutro and she wants junky Meow Mix in her bowl (which is what James feeds his cat, but he’s taken both animal and food to his parents’ house for the holidays). No ice cream for cats in my house.