Canapé of the damned
What do you do at 10 pm when you’re fragged, famished and forlorn?
Why, you reheat.
The story: I’ve spent the greater part of the last couple of weeks Bashing My Brains Out working and attending various social and family functions. Honestly, it’s been dire.
Today I was looking forward to putting in a solid 12-hour day at the office to catch up on some of the overload. Around 5 pm, however, I was deflected from working by a friend who announced casually that he’s been in the hospital for the last couple of days and could really use a cell phone charger, if I happened to find myself in Virginia.
It’s a longer story than that, of course, but in the interest of his privacy (HIPAA, doncha know) and my sanity, I’ll spare us all. The point is, I had a great plan to work until hellacious-o’clock, and wound up getting home even a bit later than I’d intended and casting about for something to eat, while suffering from a bit of nervous energy.
And thus, the canapé of the damned was born.
What you see here is, from bottom left (sliced baguette), clockwise:
- Thinly sliced baguette fragments – toasted.
- Foil-wrapped caramel-topped brownies. These have not yet come into play this evening.
- Leftover mashed potatoes – microwaved.
- Leftover turkey meatloaf experiment that actually went quite well – reheated.
- Homemade cranberry sauce of the simplest possible variety (berries, sugar, water, cook until they overflow all over your nice, new-ish stove) – chilled.
- And in the center position: The unholy melange.
Now, I did this because there is (or was) some place in Boston that is (or was) famous for concocting the perfect turkey-stuffing-cran sandwich on toasted white bread. It was a real specialty, the kind of place where you stand in a long line and when you get to the counter say “one, please.” I had it once 5 million years ago, and it was pleasing unto me at that time.
What I’ve done here does not compare. In fact, I do not recommend this. Do not recommend it at all.
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