After the concert, which was by the Elias Quartet, a
talented but histrionic bunch of youngsters, we were
treated to our traditional "savory repast," which was
the formerly de rigueur baked beans and Welsh rabbit,
to my surrpise and delight, as opposed to the creative
nonsense that the newer less traditional clientele
seems to ask for. Mediterranean lamb meatballs with
chunky slaw indeed (a little birdie told me; I wouldn't
have been caught dead going to that particular concert
or feasting on that particular dish in that particular
context). The hard-working caretakers, Jim and Joni, are
tasked with this less than difficult meal, with serving
help from a catering company. Unfortunately, Joni
broke her ankle, and Jim had to bake the beans, which
tasted fine (he used salt beef instead of pork, I
think) but were woefully underdone. Not bad to the
taste, but I wonder how many households were woken by
blastoffs into space overnight.

Welsh rabbit is made at each table by its head. Back
in olden times everyone knew how to make the stuff.
Now, all the ingredients are premeasured and offered
in little saucers, with printed instructions on how
to succeed at this daunting task. To wit: a pound of
shredded too-young Cheddar, about 10 oz of Sam, and
teaspoons of Worcester sauce, and mustard, an ounce
or so of seasoned flour (a horrible idea). An egg
(crack it yourself), a sissy pinch of cayenne, a
shaker of paprika, and a slice and half of toast per
place. Also on the table - a chafing dish going full
blast, a big spoon, and a whisk (this last also a
really bad idea).

The waiter assigned to our area was severely
exercised when I started making the concoction
without consulting the authority, so I tore the sheet
in half and tossed it on the table. He left in highest
dudgeon and complained to the caterer. Jim came up to me
when I went to the pantry to negotiate wine for certain
fastidious persons at the table who don't do beer and
laughingly told me that I'd been complained about. I
actually shortsightedly went up to all the waiters
until I found the guy and asked him what was up. "You
FREW the paper at me," said he.

I went back to making the rabbit, which was done
before other tables' and was pronounced good, with a
couple members requesting seconds. To be fair, one of
these was this tall cadaverous guy who looked as if
he hadn't eaten all week.

Title: Natchitoches Meat Pies
1 ts Coarsely ground red pepper
1/2 ts Cayenne pepper

The obvious question is what's the expected heat
level of "coarsely ground red pepper." Is it
merely paprika? Or something less innocuous. Of
course I would use all ground hot pepper, and
certainly that would not blow me all the way to
Houston, though what it would do for other diners
is anybody's guess.

Welsh rabbit
categories: Brahmin, British, sandwich, snack
serves: 8 as a snack

8 oz Pilsner-style beer
1 1/2 lb sharp Cheddar cheese; grated
1 lg egg
1 ts Worcestershire sauce
1 ts Colman's dry mustard
1/2 ts black pepper
12 sl toast
12 ds paprika

Heat the beer to simmering in a chafing dish or
double boiler. Add the cheese and cover. Let
simmer for 5 min while you drink the rest of
the beer. Peek. If it's beginning to melt, give
it a stir and cover again; if it's not beginning
to melt, curse, give it a stir anyway, and cover
again. Beat the egg with the seasonings. Have
some more beer and then peek again. When it
looks as though it needs stirring, stir. Repeat
this step until the cheese is well on its way to
melting. Then add the egg and stir constantly to
mix. When the whole is a fairly smooth, thick
sauce (about 10 min) after you start), serve it
over toast.

To serve, dump a slice of toast in the Welsh
rabbit. Turn once, making sure the top is well
covered by cheese, lift out onto a salad plate,
sprinkle with paprika, and give to a hungry guest.
This recipe makes enough for everyone to have a
half portion as seconds.

Some people salt this stuff. They're wrong.

Source: moi, as served at the HMA
--- Platinum Xpress/Win/WINServer v3.0pr5
* Origin: Fido Since 1991 | QWK by Web | BBS.FIDOSYSOP.ORG (1:123/140)