So, today the alarm shrilled at half-past OH MY F***ING GAWD, WHAT TIME IS IT?
Oh my brain... It hurts...
Several unsavory non-PG-rated phrases later, I got up, washed and dressed and in general tried to make myself presentable. The general consensus is that Mothers Day is the big restaurant traffic-jam-fest, but here in Tumbleweed Junction, Fathers Day is taken very seriously indeed.
Soon (ha!) after a lot of screaming and running up and down stairs and so forth, my little family found themselves waiting in line at a corporate chain restaurant breakfast buffet. Yep, Grumpy's first disappointment: no regular menu service. I consoled him by pointing out that the special holiday menu mentioned an omelet bar.
Somewhat mollified, the dad of five (also grandad of five) was persuaded to seat himself in a booth, where he had ample time to wonder aloud (key syllable: loud) how long it would take the waitress to fetch his GD Bloody Mary. Answer: A pretty damn long time. Himself was not a happy Dad at this point.
On to the buffet. The Princess and I were picking dubiously at the dismal offerings when we heard an angry man begin to berate a server. Hmm... could it be?
Yep. Apparently, the omelet station cook-server did not understand English. Still, doesn't everyone know that omelets need lots of melted cheese, damn it? The Princess and I slithered back to our booth, our plates filled with odd bits of bread and gravy and fruit. I don't do breakfast. In a perfect Savage world, all eggs would come deviled.
Luckily for me, the breakfast buffet came with champagne. I drank. I picked at my "food." I drank some more. After a while, let me tell you, I loved everybody. My family, my fellow diners, the staff, the kitchen help responsible for concocting the gelatinous biscuit gravy...
Defense attorneys would pay to have me on the jury, I'm just sayin'. Who needs E? Just give the Savage Chef some cheap champagne on an empty stomach and sit back and watch the love begin.
Ah well... Since his breakfast was less than delicious, I hope to make it up to the old fart with a fine dinner: Pot roast, artichokes, strawberries, and potatoes so good you'd run over your grandma with the tractor to get some:
Oh my brain... It hurts...
Several unsavory non-PG-rated phrases later, I got up, washed and dressed and in general tried to make myself presentable. The general consensus is that Mothers Day is the big restaurant traffic-jam-fest, but here in Tumbleweed Junction, Fathers Day is taken very seriously indeed.
Soon (ha!) after a lot of screaming and running up and down stairs and so forth, my little family found themselves waiting in line at a corporate chain restaurant breakfast buffet. Yep, Grumpy's first disappointment: no regular menu service. I consoled him by pointing out that the special holiday menu mentioned an omelet bar.
Somewhat mollified, the dad of five (also grandad of five) was persuaded to seat himself in a booth, where he had ample time to wonder aloud (key syllable: loud) how long it would take the waitress to fetch his GD Bloody Mary. Answer: A pretty damn long time. Himself was not a happy Dad at this point.
On to the buffet. The Princess and I were picking dubiously at the dismal offerings when we heard an angry man begin to berate a server. Hmm... could it be?
Yep. Apparently, the omelet station cook-server did not understand English. Still, doesn't everyone know that omelets need lots of melted cheese, damn it? The Princess and I slithered back to our booth, our plates filled with odd bits of bread and gravy and fruit. I don't do breakfast. In a perfect Savage world, all eggs would come deviled.
Luckily for me, the breakfast buffet came with champagne. I drank. I picked at my "food." I drank some more. After a while, let me tell you, I loved everybody. My family, my fellow diners, the staff, the kitchen help responsible for concocting the gelatinous biscuit gravy...
Defense attorneys would pay to have me on the jury, I'm just sayin'. Who needs E? Just give the Savage Chef some cheap champagne on an empty stomach and sit back and watch the love begin.
Ah well... Since his breakfast was less than delicious, I hope to make it up to the old fart with a fine dinner: Pot roast, artichokes, strawberries, and potatoes so good you'd run over your grandma with the tractor to get some:
Savage Chef's Cheesy Scalloped Potatoes
1 lb. or so potatoes, peeled and sliced thinly (I used Yukon Golds the other day, but russets or just plain taters work just as well)
1/4 c. or so sliced or chopped onion (I used chopped purple onion, on accounta that's what we had)
Maybe a little chopped garlic? Or maybe not--I totally forgot it today
1 t. or so of salt--I like kosher
Enough grinds of black pepper to make a good-sized pinch
1/4 c.( or a whole lot more if you are a Savage) of grated cheddar cheese
2 T. or so of grated parmesan cheese
1 c. heavy cream
Butter your smallish baking dish and layer the sliced potatoes in it. Season them with the salt and pepper. Sprinkle on the onion (and garlic, if using) and top with the cheddar and parmesan. Pour the cream over everything and place uncovered into a 350 degree oven for about an hour. Let sit a few minutes before serving
I am not kidding you. These potatoes are so delicious, you should have to have a gourmet's license to consume them
*For all the Dads who cannot be with their loved ones on this Dad's Day. This means you, Nick. Happy first Father's Day! And happy first Father's Day to Tyler, too!
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