I’m not a sports person. I could care less who is playing whom. I am more aware of what is going on in the world of North Carolina goat’s milk cheeses than that of sports. It’s not the game. If I happen to be in a room when a game is on, I will not protest and in fact will likely be somewhat interested in what is going on. I like it when the players go beyond merely doing their job to getting it done in an elegant and sexy way.
I’m just not a fan. Not of any sport, any team, or any player. I thank my stint as a cocktail waitress in a Nashville sports bar for that. I’m happy my livelihood no longer depends on UT winning. Aside from status updates on Facebook, I pretty much know nothing about pro football. Or any football. Or any ball. And I am happy.
That said, I am dimly aware that this weekend is the Superbowl. And while I could just as happily regrout the kitchen, I must admit that I find myself getting a tad caught up in the true spirit of the Superbowl — the Spirit of Snack. And even though Cletus the Fetus is making it incredibly difficult to eat or breathe these days, he has not impaired my supernatural snack making abilities. While I generally prefer “real” foods, I do make serious exceptions for special events.
For example, pigs in a blanket:
Very simple. Use biscuit dough or class it up and use teeny sausages and strips of puff pastry. It’s still the same thing – weenies. A nice variety of dipping sauces and you are good to go.
Let’s not forget, the mandatory crudite platter:
You can dump a container of Helluva Good Ranch dip in a cool bowl, or you can go the extra 2 feet and make your own. I like to use 2 cups low-fat sour cream (this is the ONLY time you will EVER see me willingly use a ‘low-fat’ dairy product. I generally believe it is blasphemy) and 3 tablespoons of Penzey’s powdered Buttermilk Ranch dressing. And crumble some bacon on top. Duh.
Whatever you do, it should be easy. And there should be a lot of it. Because no matter where you fall on the Fan Scale, you aren’t doing it right if you don’t end the day with a bunch of mysterious food stains on your team jersey.