Portrait Of A Good Sport

Would you wear a big hat with colorful flaming felt candles on top and "Happy Birthday - Older Than Dirt" emblazoned on the front? In a restaurant? Where the average patron and all the tattooed wait staff were in their 20s? (Our waiter snickered at my bong joke). And keep it on the whole meal through? All the way to the silly little cake decorated with Roman numeral candles?

If not (and I know I wouldn't!), you're not as good a sport as our pal Jack, who not only wore the hat with aplomb but also mugged for the camera shamelessly.

Happy Birthday, Jack. You are living, breathing proof that growing older and growing up are two entirely different things. Please don't ever change.

Jack's Spuds

Thanksgiving is all about gratitude, gratitude for the good things in life such as good health, firm friends, happy families, nature's bounty, natural beauty.

And mashed potatoes.

When we invited friends Janie, Jodie and Jack for Thanksgiving, Jack insisted on making his world-famous mashed potatoes (Jack is not given to modesty), and I readily assented - I have eaten his spuds before and they are memorable.

He starts with Yukon gold potatoes; they live up to their name. Waxy and softly yellow, they don't even need peeling and they cook quickly. Jack came armed with his own special masher (don't tell him, but it's just like any other) and, once the potatoes were tender, he poured off most of the water, set the pot back onto the warm burner (with the heat turned off) and went to work.

I can't tell you the exact recipe - I'm not even sure there is one - but copious lashings of real butter, half and half, salt, pepper, fresh minced parsley, dried basil and drama went in as he stirred and mashed, mashed and stirred. I don't want to say he made a big production of it but, well, he made a big production of it - lots of theater and body English went into these spuds.

The finished dish was pure potato heaven - spooned into a warmed serving dish, they were rich and bumpy with skins and lumps, buttery and savory and ohmyheavenstobetsy the temptation to take 'way too large a serving was downright irresistible.

This year, I have much to be grateful for and Jack's mashed potatoes are pretty high up on the list.

Lobstah Pahty

Our friend Jack landed a great new job necessitating a celebration and, because we know he LOVES lobster and he has an enormous appetite, we ordered a New England clambake in a can from B & M Clambake Company in Rhode Island. This is the exact opposite of eating locally, but it was a big hit.

The Fed Ex shipment arrived right on time (you must cook it the day it arrives as there are live mussels, clams and lobsters inside), we read the amusingly written directions, set the table with the lobster crackers, tablecloth, silly lobster bibs and picks provided, added water to the can and popped it on the stove to steam for about half an hour while I melted an inordinate amount of butter and sliced some lemon wedges.

We opened the can to find for each person a net bag of sweet steamer clams, one of meaty, wonderful mussels, another containing corn on the cob and yet another with new potatoes, onions and chorizo sausage, not to mention a small lobster apiece, all packed in seaweed for authentic flavor. The broth at the bottom of the pot was simply amazing, perhaps the best part of all!

We tied on the goofy bibs printed with big red lobsters and lemons, cracked and pried, laughed and munched. Jack's not a mussel man so he tried to trade his for more lobster from his daughter but she's not that dumb! Everyone made more than one trip back to the groaning platters until our fingers were sticky with seafood and slick with butter. I saved the broth and will attempt a bouillabaisse when the weather cools down. There may have been an onion or two left and perhaps a potato - but, yes, we ate the whole thing and loved every buttery bite. A fitting celebration for a successful pal!