PANICSVILLE

It really isn't easy when you love to party. When I was a teenager I used to say I get an "A" for party and "party" was my middle name.  That will never change. It is now Friday and weigh-in is tomorrow.  I know I have been down the path of the devil and am desperately trying to make amends tonight although we have my brother-in-law and sister-in-law for dinner for my sister-in-law's birthday. It has to have a little festivity and I will try to circumvent the evil, rich and bad stuff.  My husband, Paul, just asked what was for dinner tonight.  When I told him, he says he can always tell Friday night dinner now for the last three months because it is lighter fare.  My eyebrows lifted and I thought I wasn't that transparent. 

The date was only confirmed two days ago but I have rewritten the menu 3 times like I always do.  The first is based on recipes I find.  The second is rejigging to what I have and the third is the food that inspires me when I go to market as they say in the U.S.A.  My bro-in-law always enjoys a glass of Santa Marguerita Pinot Grigio with his meal and I think it is rude to let your guests to drink alone.  It is different if you are one of 10 guests somewhere else and then it isn't as noticeable.  The only problem with that is by dessert you are so loose and happy it is like feeding candy to a baby.  You can't count the drinks anymore so it stands to reason the points and calories in the dessert slip away too.

Last Tuesday, we were invited to a friend's house for dinner.  He is Italian and his best dish is osso bucco that he proudly cooks himself.  But there is the cocktail hour that precedes it and after 15 minutes of watching the champagne flow and knowing that you don't have to drive, the willpower weakens and you want to be with the rest of the gang... that is, except Paul, who can take it or leave it, doesn't drink much anyway, and knows he is driving.  It would be wrong to use him as an excuse for my lack of willpower though.

I haven't got a clue what I drank.  Although Rick cooked, he didn't serve.  He had waitstaff that kept filling up the champagne and then the white wine at the table and then I didn't even notice when we switched to the red wine or even if I drank the sambucca at the end.  I do know, I whittled away at the delicious tiramisu he had purchased from Pusateri's.  I have been trying to lose the weight I gained all week since then. 

Now there is tonight's dinner.  I set a beautiful table.  The soup is cabbage/carrot and the main course is slow-cooked chicken with fennel and lemon on rice.  Maybe that was what Paul was thinking about when he thought low-calorie because it is.  The shrimp cocktail and, if I am judicious with, the Caprese salad would also be passable.  I just have to watch the drinking or I will be into the desserts:  Frozen lemon drop delizia with raspberries (the least of all evils); blondies and lemon squares (bad, bad, bad) and the piece de resistance is the Dufflet Hazelnut birthday cake (from bad to worse).
I am in Panicsville.  I may just have to suck up a weight gain tomorrow.