I think it's an understatement when I say that I love February. The Super Bowl comes and goes −− never mind that I'm still waiting for a Gang Green win after 43 years; Valentine's Day means cute date nights, mushy Hallmark cards and all that discounted candy come Feb. 15; and I turn the big 2−2 in February, which this year also happens to be the night of the Academy Awards (Jonah Hill, represent!). In all seriousness, February is a great month because of one thing: lots and lots of parties.
For college kids, parties come to be associated with a sort of sleaziness: sweaty dancing in a cinder block basement, a floor littered with Keystone Light and lost keys. Kids line up outside the frats, waiting for an "in" to a night they probably won't remember come the next morning. That was never my scene and, with only three months to go at Tufts, it probably never will be.
I've instead always been one for themed parties — parties that take extensive planning, brainstorming, decorating and certainly, cooking. I threw a World Cup party back in 2010 when Spain took home all the marbles, and beside my golden afro, the air horns, the Martinez family crest and the 3x5 Spanish flags that hung throughout my living room, guests got to consume Spanish−themed food and drinks. For my "Christmas in July" party, my friends and I drank punch and ate what foods I usually associate with Christmas. I cooked a 21−pound turkey for my friends at the Daily last semester and sprinkled my autumn−themed tablecloths with leaf− and turkey−shaped sequins. To spare you more examples, when it comes to parties, I'm all about themes, and I'm all about foods that match those themes.
It was recently my aunt's birthday, and to celebrate that — plus the Detroit Lions' long−awaited playoff standing, which just tickled my mom's fancy — I felt compelled to make some finger−food appetizers. Inspired by my five−month stint in Rome, I made bruschetta, and though I am no fan of tomatoes (a capital sin, I know), it got rave reviews, from myself included. I made a hot clam dip that eventually made a return appearance at my mom's Super Bowl party; and then I made stuffed mushrooms that quite simply knocked my family's socks off — and I think they could very well wow you, too.
I don't believe people usually immediately think of "stuffed mushrooms" when they consider finger−food appetizers, but when I was browsing through my church congregation's cookbook, I found one of my aunt's recipes for her famous stuffed mushrooms — ones that I've eaten at countless family parties and that have become one of my all−time favorite appetizers. Based on the positive feedback I got, I was glad to do her recipe some justice.
For your upcoming party or even a simple dinner soiree, unless you're somebody who can't even stomach the sight of mushrooms, I suggest you give Diane's mushrooms a shot. Ingredients: 1 pound of large mushrooms −− I used baby portabella mushrooms, but you can use white button mushrooms if you so choose 3 tbsp. grated Parmesan cheese 1 clove fresh garlic, pureed 1 small onion, minced 1 cup bread crumbs 1 tbsp. parsley 2 tbsp. melted butter 6 tbsp. olive oil Salt and pepper to taste
Remove the stems from the mushrooms, and then wash and chop them up.
Add the cheese, garlic, onion, bread crumbs, butter, parsley and salt and pepper to the minced stems.
Spoon this mixture into the mushroom caps, and place the stuffed mushrooms into a shallow baking pan lined with 2 tbsp. oil.
Drizzle the remaining oil over the mushrooms and bake at 350 degrees for 20 minutes. Serve them hot.
Party on, my fellow Jumbos!
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Niki Krieg is a senior who is majoring in
Italian studies and history. She can be
reached at Nicole.Krieg@tufts.edu.
