We're reading a lot about Thanksgiving myths versus facts. JSTOR offers this heartwarming read for people like me, the few who need a little boost when there's cooking that needs doing for just two. http://daily.jstor.org/thanksgiving-is-a-feast-of-things-forgotten/ I'm a member of the underground tribe that feels old enough to be Thanksgiving'd out. I'll never get a true tally of the number of Thanksgiving meals I've cooked so far. While I haven't served a turkey since the late 80s, I still do the holiday feast cooking. Used to be I started the night before, while Erin and JC slept. Prep work is pretty mindless so no sweat. I grew to hate that big pale pocked white skin on a turkey. There was nothing appealing about it. Sticking my arm inside the cavity gave me the shudders. I'm that way with any live thing I have to clean, including fish. Lately, if I have to clean it I cannot eat it. Fish eventually became our holiday protein--all hail the red snapper, stuffed with good spices and herbs. Not this year though. This year it's drum, with all the traditional sides. I didn't want to cook this year, and even tried talking JC into dining out. He didn't want to. So. We did our spur of the moment shopping yesterday. You can bet we forgot more than two convenient pie crusts for the sweet potato pies. We won't discover just what until I need it. Can you see me making crusts from scratch? (sigh) We're not big pumpkin pie eaters; not in Texas where sweet potato pie reigns supreme.
We'll have cornbread dressing, mustard greens, mashed potatoes and gravy, and potato salad for between meal snacking. Wild Thymes cranberry sauce, and limed iced tea. Sweet potato pie for dessert, y'all! Without whipped cream. All that work to create dinner-for-two makes it all feel more special somehow. Single people and old single people fall into the habit of eating out on holidays, eating frozen dinners, or hope someone will remember them, and bring enough food to get them through the day, but very little beats leftovers. That parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme aka poultry seasoning, comes alive while that dressing's parked in the fridge, awaiting its second-day debut. Flavors wed and sleep like Sleeping Beauty until it's leftover-time. That pie becomes creamier, the greens make you moan--having soaked in its briny pot likker, but the cold potatoes can never ever be resurrected, in my humblest opinion. I will not eat a warmed up mess of cold mashed potatoes! Erin swears they're good and believes she knows how to fix them so well that no one can tell they're leftovers. Her daddy backs her up. No me. Never. You can make cold lumped gravy silky again though. Yep. Sure can. Leave me alone with the mashed lie though. It's become a part of our family holiday tradition, discussing why rehashed mashed will never seduce me. They tell me I'm gonna starve one day because I'm such a picky eater. I still say I'll go from the shock of eating that glue first! We'll continue to say grace for God's continued graces, pour wine for one, and set a third place setting or our unknown guest.
Did you know tom turkeys have beards? You do know that I wish you a happy Thanksgiving Day though don't you? Okay, so I'll say it anyway.
Happy Thanksgiving, y'all!