It was one of the greatest three and a half hours of my life, and shockingly it had nothing to do with winning my bet with Boston Globe food editor Sheryl Julian or the seriously delicious spread I put out for ten friends. I will enjoy the lobsters Julian is sending (let the record note that I got no points in this bet).
And the food we ate was great—don't get me wrong. We had a bo ssam (pork shoulder) and all the fixin's (chicken wings, lettuce leaves, rice, sauces, kimchi, Kewpie cole slaw, homemade crackerjacks) from New York chef of the moment David Chang's fledgling catering effort, and it was all incredibly delicious. I also made some nachos with Scoops, Butler's Rothbury Red cheese, a can of mild Ro-Tel, and a bag of Oscar-Meyer real bacon bits. The Scoops make the nachos easy to eat, almost downright elegant, something one of my male guests noted was not a word he usually associates with my food. I got a little fancy-pants with some popcorn I bought at Fairway that I splashed with some of this new incredible organic white truffle oil I'll going to tell you about later this week. It was all crazy good, but not half as crazy good as my Giants.
My Jints literally rocked the house in Phoenix and rocked my house on West End Avenue in New York as well. How crazy did I and my seven friends get? After the Giants' improbable game-winning drive we simultaneously broke out in an awful, loud, spirited, and heartfelt rendition of the old Laura Nyro song "Eli's Comin'." None of us knew any of the words besides, "Eli's comin,' hide your heart, girl," so we just sang it over and over again because somehow it just seemed right. And maybe, just maybe, they heard it in Phoenix. It was that kind of night, when a bunch of grown men get to be little kids again, yelling at the TV set and rooting for a team that we were convinced could hear us. Based on the outcome, maybe they could.
Serious Eaters, what did you eat? Was your house rockin'?
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