Man Plates

A few friends came over earlier this month to watch a game on the teevee. Like a good host (but also because I like to cook) I made food.

Before that, Mrs Elliott had some of her friends come over a few nights earlier to watch a movie.

"You're invited," she said.

"Great! What's for food?"

"Salad."

Um. Okay. 

I appreciate that she invited me, and I enjoyed the film and her friends -- lively and bright company -- but, really, salad is barely a food, amirite? One endures salad, one does not thrive on salad. One resigns oneself to salad. It's like getting a flu shot: you tolerate it. Salad is something to be forborne. One does not look forward to salad. Oh good, they said, we're having salad tonight. No -- no one in the history of time has ever said such a thing.

Anyways, for my man-gathering, I made man food: Red beans and ham hocks. And also some baby back ribs. The former were cooked overnight in a Dutch oven and finished off in the crock-pot, the latter were cooked in the used-but-perfectly-good propane smoker I bought off craigslist from some guy in NE Bend in December. "Perfectly good," of course, once I steam-cleaned all the parts -- you can't be too careful about the hygiene habits of eastsiders.

When it came time to put out the plates and bowls for my friends, I realized that I didn't have decent tableware for a man-gathering. Of course Mrs Elliott and I have perfectly acceptable dinnerware for most occasions here in casa Elliott: I prefer nice white plates and bowls for most meals. Mrs Elliott has these odd square plates with bold patterns on them that confuse me -- I once completely overlooked a perfectly fine filet mignon because it was hidden in the pattern.

Neither seemed appropriate for men sprawled out in the living room, eating ribs and red beans with ham hocks in front of the teevee. I didn't trust them with my plates, and Mrs Elliott's plates were too -- well, fussy.

So I made do with random bits of unmatched crockery and some paper plates -- and it was fine, of course.

But this week I decided to patronize one of Bend's finer emporiums of fancy house- and kitchen-ware: Goodwill. Here I found exceptional (read: cheap) plates and bowls that any man would be proud to display on his sideboard.

Herewith I show you my choice:

Plate with moose.

It has moose. What's not to like?