I know you all are dying to know what I did on New Years Eve. I know you are. My friends, R & E, live in a pretty rad condo in the heart of Raleigh. They also happen to be a block from where we drop The Acorn and shoot off fireworks. Yes, my friends, my city drops a giant nut each year. Squirrel food if you will. We drop a giant piece of squirrel food to ring in the new year. Could be worse, I suppose. Mount Olive, NC drops a pickle. They make pickles there, you see. Or it could be way worse than that. We could be Brasstown, NC, the alleged Possum Capital Of The World where they drop a LIVE possum and count down to the new year on the Possumtron. If only I could make this up!
This year the party theme was retro food. We had cocktail weenies in sauce, meatballs, a chicken liver pate, slices of pickles wrapped in cream cheese and ham. I brought cream puffs full of butter, smoked salmon and dill, recipe courtesy of my grandmother's cookbook. We had wine, beer, brandy slushies, and some peppermint stick cocktail thingy. And then there was weiner cobbler. Think about it. Weiner. Cobbler.
A visual aid.
Here's how I remember the recipe as told to me:
1 package of turkey cocktail weenies, wrapped in crescent rolls, covered with a mixture of brown sugar, maple syrup, toped with sliced almonds and baked.
All I can say is that it's delightfully weird.