If you have ever read this blog you know that I NEVER talk about my personal life. Like ever.
And that folks is ACTING! Or perhaps just a lie.
To bring you up to speed (as I missed last week and am very very sorry about that):
It is shower season here in the Mighty Midwest. I’m not talking about those very personal moments with the shower head, Sade crooning in the background and a lovely scented candle. I’m talking about baby showers, wedding showers and any other reason under the sun to gift someone you love a spice rack or breast pump.
I’m not sure how things go in other regions of our fine planet but here in Minnesota we don’t fuck around with showers (forgive the language but I wanted to convey how important we take showers here). I mean when else can you gift a breast pump?
Last month I was 1/3 of a planning committee for a shower honoring my wonderful friend, Finer Film and her upcoming offspring (whose name has yet to be disclosed but I’m pretty sure it rhymes with Tenjamin…fingers crossed). After what was probably close to a thousand emails, multiple carrier pigeons and few smoke signals I was able to work out a meal plan for Finer Film’s baby shower.
Her other two besties were in charge of games, providing a place to host and added food.
Which by the dubs was amazing.
2/3 of the planning committee made a to die for frittata (eggs from the backyard chickens – makes me think of that only Portlandia episode I watched where they go to meet the organic farmer who’s chicken they are about to eat at a restaurant) and 3/3 of the planning committee managed to create baby shower games that didn’t make me want to perform my own vasectomy.
I took this opportunity to share with my baby making crew a long held food tradition from the hinterlands of Minnesota – The Sandwich Loaf. This goliath of an entrée looks like a dessert but tastes like the whole friggin’ deli exploded in your mouth. Traditionally funeral food up North I have seen this beast whipped up for all occasions.
Imagine if you will layers of squishy white bread, egg salad, more bread, ham salad, more bread, olive spread, more bread (you’ll be backed up for weeks), and wait for it...covered in 4 pounds of cream cheese.
I maybe got lazy and used actual deli salad from Lund’s. Chicken Curry, Turkey with Gruyere and my own egg salad. Because I don’t trust anyone's egg salad but my own.
People take Sandwich Loaf seriously in my hometown. There are classes at the community ed center to learn how build them. That’s right build them. You don’t just make a Sandwich Loaf. You build it.
Now not to be left out of the shower scene I kinda had one of my own today. P.S. DO NOT GOOGLE “shower scene” unless of course you want to see Benedict Cumberbatch in the shower on the Enterprise. Which you do. And then I suggest the shower head, Sade and a scented candle. Long story short I converted and joined the Jewish ranks today. What started out at as joke that moved to mild curiosity, eventually led me to some classes at my local temple and BAM! Today I am a Jew. There are those out there that won’t buy it. And there are those out there who will wonder what I had to sacrifice to get into one of the coolest clubs on the planet. And there are those out there that should watch out for me on J-Date. Bitches Imma about to updated my profile. But what better reason to host a party (we're going to call it a shower) than my conversion? Earlier today I gathered with some of my dearest friends. Some who have been with me the whole Catholic to Jewish path and some who I truly just met last week. Alongside my conversion buddy (we normally don’t get buddies but this just worked out thanks to our hometown connection and God wanting us to be Jew Besties For Life) we took the final steps today and converted. After what seemed like a lifetime of butchering the Hebrew language in front of our Christian mothers we walked out of the building for the next natural step in becoming a Jew. Noshing. Or in my case unhinging my jaw and just inhaling. JBFL went with her family out to a little local joint they got all schmaltzy about when I asked. You see that? Slipped in a little Yiddish for you. Jew now. I took my posse back to the swinging bachelor pad for some kibbutz and nosh. More Yiddish. Thanks to the aid of my former Work Wife and Food Styling Arch Rival I had a wonderful spread of savory treats (ham included for the gentiles). Just Joni was kind enough to bring what is basically Scandinavian Crack in a cake pan. If you know a Minnesotan you know we love our almond extract. And this cake is pure almond extract. As with most of my Page Six reportable parties this one was a who’s who of the blog. And if you were kind enough to shower me with a gift (which was completely unnecessary) you will get your due thanks in the mail. And if your gift was showing up and standing with JBFL and myself (which we’re not sure but think we might have been married while up there – our Hebrew is rusty) I thank you for coming. I’m going to Nancy Drew journal this shit and someday it will be a movie. So if you were at the shower start thinking about who would play you…Benedict Cumberbatch is playing (with) me. And for the record unlike the other club I belong to I don’t get a toaster oven for converting friends. So I will not be shoving matzo down your throat. Unless of course you are at one of my fabulous Passover meals. People kill for that invite…