Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap put on by Baking In A Tornado. This week, 14 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts. At the end of this post you will find a list of the other bloggers participating in the subject swap. Please check them out and see if you can find who received my subject!
My subject is: “St. Patty’s Day is arriving and a clan of Irishmen are on their way to your home. What would you cook for them and why?”.
It was submitted by Spatulas on Parade.
Here we go…
I love decorating for parties. I think I get almost as excited about my children’s birthday parties as they do. If I can design a menu around it, or justify spending an entire evening on Pinterest planning all sorts of crafty fun I’ll never follow through with, then I’m on board. So the prospect of a hoard of hungry Irish relatives descending upon my house on St Patrick’s day would seem like kismet.
St Patty’s Day is one of the more garish of the minor holidays, which means it’s just an excuse to cover things in glitter, tinsel, springy bobble heads, four leaf clovers, and anything else under the sun as long as it’s green. Luckily, I happen to look good in green.
I’d dive straight into the tackiness. Green streamers? Check. Beer dyed green with who knows what kind of nasty chemicals? Check. Head to toe green outfits for the whole family? Check. Cake with Colin Farrell’s face printed on? Check. You know what else is green? The money I shouldn’t be spending on left over green mardi gras beads and “kiss me I’m Irish” buttons. Sigh.
The menu would be entirely green and rainbow themed. Fresh fruit kebobs in rainbow colors, green tinted mac and cheese for the kids, Colcannon for the grown ups, little miniature Reuben sandwiches with rainbow flag toothpicks. The whole shebang. The cake with Colin Farrell’s face would have to be special ordered, but I would bake plenty of four leaf clover shaped pistachio cookies, just in case Mr Farrell wasn’t their cup of tea. Obviously, there would be plenty of Bailey’s, Creme De Menthe, and Irish Cream Liqueurs.
Nothing says St Patrick’s Day like a minty White Russian.
My life would, of course, be consumed by party preparation for days leading up to the event. My children running wild, foraging in the refrigerator for sustenance, wearing underwear on their heads and nothing else. It would be Lord of the Flies, but with streamers and balloons.
About an hour before the party a thought would stop me in my tracks:
Do they even celebrate St Patrick’s Day in Ireland?
A wave of panic would set in. What if they found the beads, the clovers, and the cake shaped like possibly their worst citizen offensive? I’d look quickly around the house. Suddenly it would seem very green. I felt a little nauseous and my face joined the rest of the house as it turned a sickly pale green.
I’d rush through the house pulling down streamers, hiding rainbows made of M&Ms and pots filled with chocolate coins. The food might not have been dyed yet so it could be salvaged. Who was I kidding anyway? My kid would never have eaten green food. He wont even eat a cracker that isn’t square. He says Ritz crackers are too round.
The cake would be harder to explain. Perhaps I could pass it off as someone else. Someone cool. I tried painting on sunglasses with frosting, but ended up smearing the face beyond recognition. Now he just looked like Bono. That could just be a coincidence, I suppose. Maybe no one would notice.
I’d mix the fruit in a big bowl so it was no longer grouped by the color spectrum, ice the cookies with pink and call them flowers, and tuck away the pin the tail on Pierce Brosnan game just as the doorbell rings. The guests are arriving. I’d take one last look around my now decidedly unfestive house and sigh with relief. At least there wont be a lot of cleaning to do the next day.
Secretly congratulating myself on a successful dodge of a potential social faux pas, I’d swing the door open and greet my guests. I’d invite them inside, take their coats, and beckon them to follow me into the kitchen. The guests might even compliment me on how tastefully my house is decorated.
Oh, don’t be silly I’d say.
That would be the moment that the baby, who I had forgotten to change, would crawl through the kitchen dressed in full costume as a leprechaun.
Well, crap. It would seem the little, green, wish granting, cat was out of the bag. Oh well.
Now who want some beads?!?
Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts. Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there.
Baking In A Tornado
Stacy Sews and Schools
Follow me home . . .
Confessions of a part-time working mom
Dribbles and Grits
Spatulas on Parade
Dinosaur Superhero Mommy
Someone Else’s Genius
More Than Cheese and Beer
Searching for Sanity
Rants From My Crazy Kitchen