Betty Lives!

November 29, 2007

Sunset Magazine, late 1960’s/early 1970’s

I love my younger sister without limit but we are different in every way that is measurable and have been for as long as I can remember. She is tall, thin, long-legged, athletic, and doesn’t care what she eats or even if she eats at all. The last point makes her not only different from me, but different from my whole entire family. We find her lack of interest in food odd and somewhat unforgiveable. For about six years in the 1980’s, my sister became a vegetarian. When she finally relented in college, my mother and I had a memorable heart-to-heart in which we both admitted to having believed all along that my sister was simply trying to punish us. In the late 1990’s I got a terrifying midday call from my sister: she had fainted coming out of the subway. She was sure it was because she “had forgotten to eat for a day.” And recently, as we discussed a possible trip to Disneyworld, my sister plotted out our meal plan: bring peanut butter sandwiches to the park. When I explained that that would never work for me she pointed out in a very exasperated tone that “Getting good meals at Disneyworld was NOT the point!” It is very difficult explaining to someone who occasionally “forgets to eat” that good meals are ALWAYS the point.

One thing we always agree on is Thanksgiving. We love it more than anything and look forward to it all year. Custom dictates that I call her sometime around mid-July to remind her that “Thanksgiving is almost here!” And we spend significant time discussing how much food, once cooked, will yield the optimum amount of leftovers. My mother prepared the same dishes every year and they are each splendid. Now I cook Thanksgiving at my house using the same exact recipes. There is no wiggle room in the menu, for my sister and me it might as well be set in stone tablets like the commandments. I did, however, introduce a new hors d’oeuvre this year based on my Betty project.

The boyfriend I had during cooking school had a best friend named Mark, whom I loved and adored. As hard as it was to eventually lose the boyfriend, losing Mark was equally difficult. Especially because with the loss of Mark, I was unsure how I would ever get my hands on his mother’s recipe for Artichoke Nibbles. Mark’s mother Rhonda (a warm and gracious hostess) had served the nibbles to us and I had never been able to get them out of my head. It was a recipe she had prepared for her family and friends for so long that they had apparently forgotten its original name. Many, many years later when I finally had the opportunity to see Mark, one of my first questions was, “Do you think you could email me the recipe for the Nibbles?”

Artichoke Nibbles are made from jarred artichoke hearts which are chopped and combined with sautéed onions and garlic, shredded cheddar cheese, bread crumbs, parsley, eggs and a drop of Tabasco. They are essentially a very dense, crustless quiche. For Thanksgiving I sprinkled dried breadcrumbs on the top during the baking which made them nice and crisp. They were perfect with drinks before dinner and will heretofore be engraved in the Thanksgiving recipe tablets.

A shout out to my sister for allowing me to alter our ritual, and a shout out to Mark and his lovely mother for the beloved Nibbles.