Nashville Weekend

Recently, I enjoyed one heckuva girls' weekend in Nashville.  I visited my lifelong friend, Cheryl, who is a superwoman in the kitchen. 

Cheryl picked me up at the airport and greeted me with a cherry limeade from Sonic.  She knows me so well.  As I sipped my tasty treat, we drove the half hour back to her house, making a stop at a local BBQ shack for our takeout dinner:  massive amounts of pulled pork; potato salad and slaw for her husband and stepson; and two bbq baked potatoes for me and Cheryl.

We set up our feast and planned our culinary strategy.  Some wine might have been poured.  I think we went to eight different grocery stores by the time the weekend was over.

Cheryl and Mike have one of those Big Green Egg smokers.  I asked if we could smoke something.  

Cheryl:  Sure, like what?  

Me:  Anything we could get our hands on.

First we had to prep dessert.  I mean, that's good strategy, right?  We didn't want to be sitting there after a southern smoked feast and not have an answer when Mike asked, Well, what did you make us for dessert?

We made olive oil gelato.

With the gelato chilling and various meats smoking, we worked on sides and gluten free options to accompany our smoked feast.

First cauliflower pizza crust.  Cheryl's basil plants were in full bloom, so we made a Caprese pizza.

Eggplant involtini

Polenta sausage spinach terrine.

A libation for the cooks.  Bourbon with rosemary simple syrup and orange peel.

And now for the main events.  We assembled a bacon bomb.  We made a crosshatch bacon "blanket" and filled it with sausage and crumbled bacon and slathered the outside with BBQ sauce.

The star of the show though?  A whole smoked chicken.  Best chicken I ever ate.

Hot Chocolate

I have always loved hot chocolate.  It has been my favorite version of a chocolate fix.  As a kid, I would occasionally treat myself to a Hostess Ho-Ho.  I had a Twix and Three Musketeer phase.  A mint chocolate chip ice cream lark.  But nothing's lasted as long as my love for hot chocolate.

Growing up, my go-to hot chocolate was the Swiss Miss variety.  In college, I found some different packets of the powdered stuff...Land O Lakes, that had flavors like mint or raspberry or caramel.  On cold, dark nights in southeastern Ohio, a cup of that with some hot water courtesy of the hot plate was heaven.

When I first started to date G, it was winter time in Michigan.  I remember being at his apartment and craving a warm beverage.

"You wouldn't have any hot chocolate, would you?"

"Sure," he said.  "It's up in the cupboard.  Help yourself."

I looked for the familiar light blue cardboard box with the Swiss Miss on it, but couldn't find it.

Then I realized that his hot chocolate came in a container with a lid, marked Ghirardelli.  What was this magical elixir?  I started to read the directions and reached for the tea kettle to boil water.

"What are you doing?, " G asked.  "You use milk.  Just warm up some milk in the microwave."

Milk?  Fancy hot chocolate AND milk?  What was this decadence?  I followed his instructions and proceeded to have the tastiest mug of hot chocolate I'd ever experienced.

To this day, if I crave a hot chocolate fix, I go for the container of Ghirardelli that we always have in the pantry.

 I've never laid eyes on that Swiss Miss again.