For years I’ve attended a seasonal get-together called “Friend Thanksgiving,” which is simple in concept (just as it sounds: all friends, no family) and delicious in execution.  It’s basically a potluck open house held the weekend before the actual holiday and guests bring a side dish to accompany the enormous turkey(s) cooked by the hosts.

Part of the fun was the complete diversity and inventiveness of the dishes.  Sure, there would be the expected stuffing and mashed potatoes, but there might also be Asian-style brussel sprouts, a blue-cheese gratin or braised radicchio.  Point being, sometimes changing up the traditional fare isn’t a bad thing. I, unfortunately, no longer live near the “Friend Thanksgiving” couple, but if I did, this is what I would bring—Scalloped Corn from David Tanis’ Heart of the Artichoke—it seems like a nice mix between something I don’t often see at the Thanksgiving table, but at the same time entirely Pilgrim-appropriate.

Scalloped Corn:

2 tablespoons butter, plus more for buttering the dish and topping
1 small yellow onion, finely diced
Salt and pepper
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
Pinch of cayenne
1 1/2 cups half-and-half
Kernels from 6 ears sweet corn (about 3 cups)
2 egg yolks
1/2 cup fresh bread crumbs

1) Preheat the oven to 375˚F. Butter a 10-inch baking dish.

2) Melt the 2 tablespoons butter over medium heat in a medium skillet, and soften the onion with a little salt, about 5 minutes. Sprinkle in the flour, season with salt and pepper and cayenne, and stir well with a wooden spoon.

3) Slowly add the half-and-half and stir well as the sauce thickens. Add the corn kernels and simmer for 2 minutes. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Remove from the heat.

4) Beat the egg yolks in a small bowl, and stir into the corn mixture.

5) Pour the corn mixture into the baking dish. Scatter the bread crumbs over the top and dot with butter. Bake for about 30 minutes, or until golden.

In the category of random shout-outs: This past weekend I had some friends over for dinner and decided to try out some recipes from A Platter of Figs. There are no leftovers. I took no pictures. But that’s not the point.

The point is: David Tanis, I salute you. My friends now have totally overblown perceptions of my culinary abilities. They pretty much think I’m a genius, and that I’m constantly going around behind their backs, secretly cooking awesome meals for myself and some other group of secret friends. The truth? Unlike the blogorific Sarah, whose casual assessment of her slightly involved weeknight creations betrays a Total Kitchen Mastery, I tend to cycle through a fairly limited repertoire. It might go something like this: Rice and beans. Pasta (with whatever I can scrounge). Omelet. Takeout. (Okay, I probably have takeout twice a week. But who’s counting.)

To reiterate, if it isn’t clear from my rice and beans rundown: My skills, they are basic.

But armed with David’s cookbook, I was somehow able to fool my friends into thinking I really knew what I was doing.

The Menu

Cherry Tomato Crostini with Ricotta

Roasted Salmon with Herbed Cucumber Salad

Blueberry-Blackberry Crumble

(Though it wasn’t in The Book, I also threw in some boiled new potatoes with olive oil and chives; in my opinion, you can never have enough starch.)

The Difficulty Meter

So easy! I drizzled the salmon with olive oil and chucked it in the oven. I chopped up cucumbers and herbs and dressed them with olive oil and lemon. The only slightly labor-intensive element was the prepping of the crostini—but so worth it. I already knew that crumbles were great desserts for cooks who can’t even handle chocolate chip cookies. But the berries really took it to the next level.

The Critical Reception

“This is officially our favorite place to come for dinner.”“I can’t stop eating the crostini.” “I didn’t know you were, like, a chef.” And, “Who finished the crumble?”

Their enthusiasm was such that, to tell the truth, I kind of felt like a fraud. I kept having to say, “I swear, it’s not me, it’s the cookbook.” They were almost angry with me for being so good, like I had been pretending to be one of them all along, when in fact, I was something much, much better.

Full disclosure: The salmon was not wild, nor was anything organic. I know that’s a betrayal of one of the book’s central tenets, and I hope David Tanis will forgive me. But wild salmon for six people would have cost over $60… I don’t like my friends that much!