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Holiday food fatigue

I love me some ham, but if I have to eat another slice of it, I’m going to cut my tongue out and feed it to the coyotes. I am worn out by holiday feasting. I’m going to make turkey pot pie for lunch today — I make a pretty good one, if I may […]

I love me some ham, but if I have to eat another slice of it, I’m going to cut my tongue out and feed it to the coyotes. I am worn out by holiday feasting. I’m going to make turkey pot pie for lunch today — I make a pretty good one, if I may say so — but what I really want to do is to be turned loose on a field of rye grass to graze and masticate my cud until all the hammy, bacony, sugary residue of Christmas works its way out.

Our wedding anniversary is on Friday, and New Year’s Eve is the day after that, but Julie and I have lost our professional edge on reveling. I think we’ll just make thin soup and watch something on TV, though perhaps we can muster the wherewithal to go see a movie and gnaw on a head of butter lettuce, or something.

What do you like to eat after the Christmas blowout? Do you like to eat anything? I don’t have the stamina anymore for sustained rich eating after two or three days of it. I’m thinking about cooking some sort of greens in a broth seasoned by turkey leg. You have advice for me? For us all?

Next time I go into Baton Rouge, I’ve got to get back by Whole Foods and buy some more $10 bottles of prosecco. We had a bottle of that at Christmas dinner. I was surprised by how good it was, especially for the cost. There’s nothing more festive than sparkling wine. This prosecco was plenty crisp enough to slice right through the butter and bacon infusing most dishes at the table. New Year’s Eve spent drinking prosecco and watching trashy TV sounds about right to me. I need to save up my revelry reserves for the LSU-Bama game. We’re going to be at Antoine’s, in the French Quarter, all afternoon, at a big party. Can you say “Sazerac”? Baby, I knew you could.

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