Surreality and Spanish Tortilla
The past month featured both of us being told by surgeons that our new, annoying ailments required surgery except our respective weird diseases–which caused the ailments requiring surgical intervention–meant surgery was too risky to attempt. We should, therefore, watch, wait, and, it is assumed, worsen.
The above two sentences required numerous medical tests and, at one point, three visits in one day to two different medical facilities. That of smell burning? Pay no attention. It’s just my frontal lobes.
In the midst of all this, I’d agreed to host a Meetup for 12 people last Saturday night. I’d happily offered to do this long before our respective weird diseases had loudly asserted themselves in newly entertaining, destructive ways. I couldn’t very well back out. Nor did I want to. The problem was, by the time Thursday rolled around, not much planning had gotten done.
I don’t know about you, but when I invite people over, I like to show them a nice time. And here in the land of Alice Waters, dinner parties can be fairly competitive exploits. Couple this with what I call “real estate sickness,” that is, an all-consuming obsession with houses, how other people live in them, and how yours stacks up, and the dinner party experience can get pretty dicey.
Well, if anything good can be said about medical crises, plural, it’s how little time there is to get into a tizzy about the above. Multiple hospital trips banish lingering worries over how poorly your shack rates. You can’t stare too long at your wheelchair-tracked rugs or wonder what people will make of the ceiling lifts dangling here and there, all the better for crip-schlepping. Standing in line for yet another ultimately worthless Cipro scrip leaves scarce energy for fretting over what your guests will make of the standing frame (exotic exercise equipment? extreme sex toy?). Embarrassment over the miniscule bath and moldering 3×3 stall shower fall away in the face of bad CT scan results.
All I could do, and did, was ensure said bathroom was clean. More critical, saving my sanity if nobody else’s, was the case of Provençal Rosé.
So, my tried and true advice for dinner parties in the face of dual rare disease is as follows:
-Order a case of wine: unopened bottles may be used at future parties or just to drink as the crises mount. On that note, purchase wine you enjoy.
-Serve a carafe of cold water. Tap is fine. Unless you live in Flint. Which is no laughing matter.
-Paper plates and napkins save on cleanup. Disherwasherless, take note.
-Everyone loves cheese: I bought three different types. They vanished before I could taste them.
-A Fra’Mani Ham, served on its own board to accommodate non-pork eaters, was also a hit. I sliced a few pieces, then left the knife on the board.
-Buy a new corkscrew: I was entertaining once and my only corkscrew fell apart in my hands. Have a couple handy.
-Lots of unscented white or cream candles, placed where they won’t be knocked over, make pretty, inexpensive decor.
-Designate a spot for coats and purses. Tell people where the bathroom is. Have enough toilet paper out.
-This may sound unfriendly, but if strangers are coming, consider putting away certain items for the evening. Nobody will be the wiser if certain medications are tucked behind the socks or select personal items spend the night with the summer wardrobe.
In the end, the evening went well, despite the oddities of a couple people, both strangers. One entered without knocking or ringing the doorbell. At an event where everyone was to bring home-baked bread, his offering, apart from strident opinions, was a bag of potato chips.
There’s always one.
Most important of all, have a good time at your own party. I did. As it happens, I really like these people (mostly), which is why I invited them over to begin with. It was a lovely evening, welcome if brief respite from a difficult time. In the end, isn’t this why we entertain? To have fun? To enjoy the company of select others?
Spanish Tortilla was another successful dish from the evening.
Spanish Tortilla
Tortilla, here not the Mexican flatbread but cousin to Italian fritatta and French omelet, is a cake of eggs, most often made with potatoes. Best eaten warm or at room temperature, tortilla is wonderful party or picnic food. Even better, tortilla folds many eaters under its generous umbrella: it can be vegetarian, kosher, gluten-free, carbless. Slip greens into it, chop up a little ham, mince some shrimp. Sauté onions or shallots or garlic. Last Saturday I served a plain tortilla with potato and another with potato and chard. This one has potato and turnip greens. But as Fergus Henderson would say, feel free to express yourself.
A quick word on technique, or lack thereof. Classic tortilla preparation calls for iron skillets and daring flips involving plates, so the top side can cook through. Having failed to achieve such nonstickery (Nonstickitude? Nonstickiness?) with my iron skillet, I clearly need to be kicked off the air. Were this not bad enough, I am too decrepit (see weird diseases, above) to flip anything out of any skillet, iron or otherwise. Instead, I wussed out, buying the inexpensive, lightweight nonstick pan pictured. Not only does it claim to be environmentally correct, it is also oven safe. Really, given the way things have been going around the IK, I’ll take easy anywhere it’s offered…well, almost.
Spanish Tortilla
yield: one ten inch tortilla, 6-8 servings for a party or enough to feed 2-3 for dinner with a salad
preparation time: approximately 35 minutes
1 large baking potato or 4-5 smaller waxy potatoes, peeled and cut into dice
6 cups greens, well washed, trimmed
5-6 extra-large eggs
1/4-1/2 cup olive oil
salt and pepper
Preheat the oven to 300 degrees F.
Put a medium pot of lightly salted water on to boil.
Peel and cut potatoes into dice. Put into boiling water and cook until almost soft. You don’t want potatoes completely cooked through as they will finish cooking with the eggs. This should take about 7 minutes.
While the potatoes are cooking, wash the greens well. Squeeze them very dry. Trim any thick stems and ribs. Chop finely.
Pour about a 1/4 cup olive oil into a ten-inch nonstick, ovenproof skillet. Heat to medium.
Add greens to pan.
By now potatoes should be done. Add to pan with greens. Stir gently to amalgamate. Add a little olive oil if pan looks dry. You want a generous amount of oil.
Now turn to the eggs. Crack them into a bowl and blend with fork. Add plenty of freshly ground black pepper. Pour over greens and potatoes.
Salt lightly.
Check again for olive oil; there should be enough to pool around sides of pan but no so much that entire dish is drowning. Cook until bottom and sides of tortilla appear set, then place pan in oven to finish cooking. This should take about 10 minutes.
Eggs continue cooking off heat, so remove tortilla from oven–remember pan handle is hot!–when top is just set. Leaving tortilla in oven beyond just set will result in overcooking.
Serve in wedges or squares. Tortilla keeps, well-wrapped, for a few days in the refrigerator. Delicious for breakfast, lunch, dinner, or as an appetizer.
Because of the oil content, I like to wrap leftovers in parchment or wax paper, then tinfoil. This prevents greasiness.
Note: at the risk of sounding preachy, factory egg-laying operations are sickening to behold. Good eggs are expensive for a reason. They’re worth it–for your health, for the chickens, for the taste. Lecture concluded.
