You Have Permission to Put Cheese on Everything

For the next three weeks. Or…you know, the foreseeable future.

How we all doing? In a constant state of bewilderment like me? Racing to check the news every morning in the hopes that the good guy has pulled comfortably into the lead? Tearing your hair out reading the New York Times on the iPad while you wait for your toast to pop up? Listen, I’m not tooting my own horn here, meaning that yes indeed I am fucking tooting, but I called this shit years ago, and am reminded of the fact every time I make a cake, thank you very much.

To be completely honest, it’s a miracle I can pull my jeans past my thighs the way the emotional eating is going. And yeah I know, I KNOW IT’S BAD FOR YOU, just like enjoying a glass of wine with your mom friends, or eating too much wheat, or processed food, or full-fat dairy, or anything else that brings a woman on this spinning planet of idiots some kind of small joy for five fucking minutes. But I think that elections in times such as these should be akin to that dead week between Boxing Day and New Year’s Day. Eat whatever you want in your softest clothes without anyone in your extended family around to judge you. How much damage can that do if it happens every four years? Or like, never again! This might be your last chance, America!! Grab your pals and drink your faces off and puke on the carpet, wine moms, I’m judging no one during this election cycle.

I’m not getting all smug Canadian on you, it’s not like we don’t have crazy up this way, but you guys I don’t have the emotional bandwidth for Pierre and Justin right now. Not my Justin, I generally have a lot of emotional bandwidth for him although there are days when he’d definitely disagree; I’m talking about Justin Trudeau and the conservative leader of the opposition, Pierre Poilievre. Who, according to his website is a “champion of a free market, and fighter for people taking ownership of and responsibility for their own futures.” And we all know what that fuckin’ means, don’t we? That’s thinly veiled politician speak for, “Don’t get cozy with the little help you’re receiving and get ready to grope for those non-existent bootstraps, motherfucker!” And I’m sad to say I never thought anyone could beat J.T. and that great head of hair (that’s how humans vote, I didn’t make the rules) but it looks like Pierre is going to be the next PM, and I just hope to God it’ll be Kamala struggling to pronounce his last name and not Trump, although I’m sure he’d make an effort because PIERRE IS A FUCKIN’ WHITE DUDE. Anyway, Justin and Pierre please just shut it because literally nobody cares about Canadian politics right now. Okay, that was a gross exaggeration, lots of people care, but I’ll be a lot more invested after Kamala’s inauguration, providing the Capitol in Washington hasn’t been burnt down by armed men wearing horns. And if it’s someone else’s inauguration I am quitting the internet and learning how to churn my own butter.

So that’s how I’m feeling these days, how about you guys? I think I’m doing pretty well, all things considered. Cheese is helping, it always does. Here’s a few things I put cheese on. Yes, they’re all sandwiches, but sandwiches will be the easiest thing to eat/throw at the television while you’re pacing the floors of your family room like a rabid animal watching CNN on November 5^th.

Make a Chicken Marbella melt. First make Chicken Marbella; we make it all the time because it’s dead easy and the leftovers are always excellent a day or two after. There are a ton of recipes out there but I use this one with a pack of skin-on bone-in thighs, and sometimes I replace the prunes with dates. For one sandwich, remove the meat from one thigh. If you’re feeling really fancy and invested in this sandwich, remove the skin and heat your oven to 425°F and crisp it up, then chop it in pieces along with the chicken and a couple of the olives and prunes/dates. Mix in a little mayo, some chopped up green onion or parsley, and season with a bit of salt and pepper, like a chicken salad sandwich kind of deal. But then carry on like you’re making a grilled cheese, buttering the outside of the bread, putting the filling on, and whatever your favourite cheese is on top, you know the rest. While your sandwich is grilling (low and slow to make sure the chicken filling heats through completely), reheat some of the leftover Marbella sauce in a little pot on the stove for a dipping jus for your fancy sandwich. Don’t use tastes-like-nothing whole wheat bread from Sobeys like I did, it would be way better with a homemade or a good quality store bought sourdough. This was one of the sandwiches of the year, and that’s saying something.

Make a grilled cheese with tomatoes, chillies, and mango chutney. This time I was smart enough to use sourdough. And the tomatoes were from our first garden, so, wow, now I’m ruined forever and winter tomatoes from the groc store will make me even sadder than usual. That’s the downside to growing your own food. Every vegetable you don’t grow is garbage to you now.

Best bacon sandwich? Buttered toast, extra crispy bacon, Kerry Gold Dubliner cheese, and marmalade. Don’t make that face, just trust me. It’s 2024, there are no sandwich rules anymore, and there are bigger, weirder things to worry about.

That’s all for now, chickens. I have a lot more to say about cheese but Bret Baier won’t let me fucking finish.

Hang in there.  xo