Now. Normally I pride myself on making absolutely everything from scratch when I entertain. But there are exceptions.
Look, gentle readers, the holiday party I had on Sunday turned out to be quite the freaking production, let me tell you. I made like 6 trips to the Key Foods, formed and froze dozens of meatballs and phyllo triangles, shoehorned some compound butter into a star-shaped cookie cutter … and on and on and on. No rest for the wicked—you might say I was trying to stave off the prospect of getting coal in my stocking.
The menu, which yielded shockingly few leftovers, was as follows:
An 8-pound ham glazed with molasses and studded with pineapples, with sriracha mayo and horseradish sour cream accoutrements.
Two roast chickens, stuffed with orange wedges and leeks for flavor and (dubious) presentation.
An embarrassment of quiches (mushroom-leek, tomato-arugula, and bacon-arugula, all with Swiss cheese).
A tricolor penne salad with goat cheese, roasted tomatoes, and olives.



