Learn how to make a cheeseboard that’s piled high with Wisconsin flavors! Aged cheddar, creamy provolone, port wine cheese spread (and more) are all surrounded by cranberries, summer sausage, and other Badger State snacks! Serve this delicious cheeseboard with Wisconsin craft beer. You won’t be sorry!
Well if this isn’t shaping up to be the most Midwestern
weekend, then idk what is!
Between Seth hunting and me working and all of the shuffling
around that comes from having in-laws who have in-laws – we just couldn’t make
Thanksgiving at our house work.
So! We regrouped, reconfigured, and reorganized. And are now
going to be hosting a Christmas party/open house/Festivus instead!
I really love hosting gatherings at our home. I’d rather have a cavity filled than leave our house for a social engagement, but the tables are totally turned when I’m hosting the party. I love having people over! Milling around, making drinks, munching on snacks! It’s the best! I like decorating the house and doting on guests. As evidenced by Cheeselandia last year and my podcast-themed birthday party this year. Call me crazy, but I even like the clean up afterward, too.
Obviously, there’s been quite a learning curve. I’ve never
owned a business before, never been my own boss. There have been victories
(magazine cover coming soon!) and I have been defeated (lost a major client).
On the whole, though, I’d say there have been more positives than negatives and
even the negatives have been great learning experiences. (Or at least, that’s
what I’m telling myself with the new tools I’m learning in therapy.)
For instance, I think my videos are getting better and
better. To the point where I’m actually proud of them!
Not actually. But I didn’t like how she made me feel. Behind, inexperienced, and so uncool it was painful. Of course, this had nothing to do with her or her actions towards me, and everything to do with myself. And my insecurities. It was a new job, I was still unhappy in SC, everyone else in that kitchen knew the rhythm and how things worked. How they worked. I didn’t. And it killed me not knowing.
There were inside jokes I wasn’t a part of, techniques I’d never heard of before, a storage system in the fridge that was entirely new to me. Next to her – tall, blonde, round blue eyes behind the hippest glasses – I felt as if I could bathe in a thimble. And often wanted to hide under one during my shifts.
My dislike for her was solidified the day she showed me how to make gnocchi (something I’d never done before, phony food connoisseur that I was). Her technique was simple and quick and almost effortless. She was as fluid as the water simmering between us. I was green with envy at her abilities. During conversation, I found out she was a few years younger than me and turned the deepest shade of forest. I felt so behind, she seemed so ahead.
And then, one day, she messed up. She left granola in the oven too long. Way too long. It was burnt. Charred. Inedible. She’d ruined a dish.