As we approach election night why am I reminded of that scene from the movie Airplane! where Lloyd Bridges, playing a frazzled air traffic controller, declares “Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit sniffing glue”?
Once the polls close there’s not much any of us can do, any law-abiding citizen that is, except pray and consider our dinner options. No single person may have the power to determine whether we wake to a democracy Wednesday morning but we do exercise near totalitarian power over our election night menus.
Unlike with the Super Bowl where tradition at our house dictates hot dogs smothered in melted cheese and onions there’s nothing written in stone about what type of nourishment is required to get us through election night.
One thing’s for certain though, I’m not going to make the same mistake that Steve McCroskey, Lloyd Bridges’s character in Airplane!, did when he declared, prior to that glue reference, “Looks Like I picked the wrong week to give up drinking.”
My friend Howard articulated my sentiments exactly when he wrote on a group message, regarding election night dining, “We’re mainly focused on the drinks for now. Definitely vodka with lemon and as an alternative we’re thinking arsenic.”
I suspect that at some point during the evening results will require me to resort to straight shots — I typically turn to brown liquids come autumn but it’s been uncharacteristically warm lately so I may follow Howard’s lead and stick to vodka — but I realize it’s important that I pace myself so I’ll probably start by imbibing whatever intoxicant I choose on the rocks.
The menu poses stickier problems. I defer to no one in my patriotism but I don’t think it’s essential that one choose red, white and blue foods. My brother Peter is making chateaubriand — whether sirloin or filet he hadn’t decided when I last checked — with béarnaise sauce. But he’ll be watching the returns from his home in Wyoming where there isn’t a lot of takeout so I’m not going to second guess his choices.
From my point of view chateaubriand is overly ambitious. Not to mention pricey. I was considering throwing a steak on the grill. But the secret to grilling is never forgetting that you’ve done so and return to find your dinner burned to a crisp. Come seven p.m. when polls close in Florida and Georgia, followed by North Carolina at 7:30, my civic responsibilities will require me to be fastened to my seat in front of the TV and on my computer which I’ll be using to reference the results in House and Senate races.
There’s no way I’m going to remember to turn over a steak if Kamala Harris is triumphing or, alternately, tanking. My other brother James, a New York City resident with unlimited takeout options, if the singularly unambitious palate of a six-year-old — to this day he refuses to eat fish at all because he thinks it smells and vegetables only sparingly — is going for Indian food.
“I’ll probably get a seekh kebab from the Indian place around the corner,” he wrote, “and if I’m feeling in a good mood later I’ll have a cigar while watching CNN and NY1.”
I hadn’t considered a cigar and don’t normally smoke them but if Kamala Harris looks as if she’s on her way to scoring an electoral landslide all bets are off regarding the inventive ways I might find to celebrate.
For the record, I was considering Indian food before my younger brother raised the idea. The more I’ve thought of it the more it makes sense. Hudson Curry House is an entirely dependable Indian restaurant in Hudson, NY that I’ve patronized in the past and probably will on election night. It offers the added benefit of requiring me to drive there. The journey will help distract me come dusk and burn off some nervous energy.
Chicken korma, chicken in a delightful almond cream sauce, the ultimate ethnic comfort food, is my go-to meal at Hudson Curry House but I’m thinking of augmenting it with assorted appetizers as a cushion against the copious amount of drinking that may be required as the night grows longer.
Win or lose Donald Trump will probably declare victory at some point during the evening if he hadn’t already won legitimately. If he has I’ll probably already be in bed with the covers drawn over my head, nursing a sedative or two.
But why dwell on worst case scenarios? In my increasingly lengthy life I haven’t come across a situation that can’t be improved by dessert.
My brother Peter has been experimenting with a mocha roll. Again, that’s overly ambitious for me. But I do have an arsenal of sweets in my freezer — by the way, cake and chocolate freeze great — and also a fresh box of Mallomars in the cupboard. No matter what system of government Americans decide for themselves, life is good when your mouth is stuffed with a marshmallow and graham cracker cookie coated in pure dark chocolate.
Ralph Gardner, Jr. is a journalist who divides his time between New York City and Columbia County. More of his work can be found be found on Substack.
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