I never quite realized how much Superbowl food could mean to me. I mean, I didn't even know what teams were playing until they turned on the game (I'm more of a classic connoisseur of Superbowl commercials kind of girl). But with all the food articles coming out and blog postings, like Smitten Kitchen's drool-inducing "if-you’re-going-to-do-it-you-might-as-well-go-all-the-way" meatball subs, to torture us. I was ready to go all in. I called up my guys and invited myself to their house to watch the game.
"Great. Come on over. ...but I'm already making dinner and I'm not sure if there will be enough for you..."
What's for dinner? Baked snapper, wild rice and broccoli with parsnips.
There was a moment of dead silence on my end of the phone as my head was shocked with the double-take of absorbing that menu.
I have never craved man-food more than hearing those words on a Superbowl Sunday. Where are the buffalo wings? The pizza? The nachos? All those amazing foods that will leave that beautiful orange grease* on my plate? (*a sure sign that it is man-food approved)
|*How is it possible that this orange grease is so alluring? Don't over-think it. It just is.|
I stop at BKLYN Larder and get myself a meatball and provolone sandwich (one of my favorite's from their artisan sandwich menu) and a side of macaroni + cheese. The shop is already getting cleaned up for the night, but their guys (and it was all the guys working Superbowl Sunday there - another odd conundrum) stopped everything to get me properly set up to celebrate as I was now referring to it - "National Man-Food Day." They even gave me a large serving of chili topped with melting cheese and red onion in appreciation of my newly discovered man-food reverence.
As I wait for the subway the bag of food is warm and the wafts of savory temptations making me excited to be celebrating properly. Even with all this it was still hard, walking past the pizza shops on my way to their apartment, to not stop and buy wings to top off my extravaganza, but let's be honest - for all of my man-food esteem - I'm still just a girl and probably won't even make it through to the chili.
For some people the Superbowl is actually about the football game. I can't really imagine that. For me it's the dude's version of Thanksgiving. It's an excuse to celebrate all the coziness of the rib-sticking foods we have a hard time allowing ourselves to love all year as much as we actually want to. It's a time to get together with friends and eat, drink and be merry. It has all the makings of a national holiday - including actually being celebrated by most the nation.
So for however gratifying it is to see the guys in your life eye your plate of steaming hot man-food while they eat baked fish - there's nothing quite like sharing the love. To my guys - next year I promise I'll host a full party.