Any port in a storm will do. . . .
Veggie returned home from the U.K. today after five months abroad. And, as you all know, Trigger arrived back home over the weekend for her Thanksgiving break from her first semester in college.
And so, after an early (and I mean E-A-R-L-Y) morning visit to Trigger's pediatric rhematologist in New York and and a hurried run to Newark Airport, I had planned to prepare a gourmet vegetarian feast of Tofu and Black Bean Enchiladas as a fitting welcome-home dinner for them both.
But somewhere around 6:00 p.m., I realized that the recipe called for a quarter-cup of sherry.
The only thing I knew about sherry was that it came in a bottle that my mother used to uncork at about 5:00 p.m. each night as I was growing up, and - although she still lives next-door - I know for a fact that she moved onto Vodka at 6:00 somewhere when I was still in my twenties. . .
A call to Mr. Drip Dry solved my problem.
Try the Port, he said.
Yes, the Port wine in the liquor cabinet. It's probably the closest thing to sherry we have.
And so I did.
And damn! I'm here to tell you that that Port-in-the-Storm was good. . . .both inside the enchiladas and out. For who - in their right mind - could resist pouring themselves a glass after carelessly sloshing it into their gourmet recipe?????
One quarter-cup for the recipe. . . .one glassful for me. . . .
And quickly, its heady aroma made me forget that early morning passage over the Tappen Zee Bridge. . . and the doctor's cautious warnings to Trigger. . . . about her clotting antibodies. . . and their potential for a blood clot. . .and the dangers of her OVER-tanning on her autoimmune system. . .
And it also somehow managed to soften the memories of me waiting anxiously in Terminal "C" to meet Veggie's flight - only to discover, after it landed, that Terminal "B" was its ultimate destination. . .
And it somehow made me forget that - although I had worked for over ten straight days without a day of rest - I was still bothered a total of three times today by the I-know-you-can't-believe-it-but-ever-pressing-church-business (folks die, you know. . . it's just part of my job. . . .)
Yeah, it helped with all of the above. . .
Why didn't anyone ever teach me how to cook with this stuff before?????