The secret to surviving Thanksgiving – as with most things – is to plan ahead and prepare as much as possible.
The jobette very sweetly gave me yesterday off, so I started off by roasting chestnuts (for stuffing) and pears (for the salad). While they were roasting, I dug up potatoes from the buckets of sand where my brother and sister had stored the ones they grew this summer:
Including the mutant voodoo doll potato:
Then I made cranberry-bourbon relish, once again marveling over how incredibly disgusting booze smells in the morning, as opposed to in the evening. It’s worth it, though, and look how pretty it is in my paternal grandmother’s star dish:
After two loads of dishes and kitchen clean-up, it was time to clean my humble abode. I spent hours de-spider webbing, mopping, vacuuming, etc., and the house looks pretty good:
This Thanksgiving morning, I woke up to sunny skies after a week and several inches of rain. Megan stopped by on her way home from work, bearing more wine and a free-range, organic turkey. Oh, and a hug and a kiss.
I spent this morning chopping up Café Beaujolais sunflower bread and sourdough for stuffing, along with apples, onions, celery, sage, and those damn chestnuts. It took longer than I thought, and I had to use two bowls to hold it. Then I made the salad, putting half of it in my paternal grandmother’s Wedgwood salad bowl and the other in a less picturesque bowl. Then I made the salad dressing and sliced up the pears.
Rob just appeared and removed the old outdoor couch, and we set up a seating area around the outside fireplace (or, you know, the big old rusty thing I burn paper in during the winter):
There will be abut 12 of us, including Erica, Jessica, Jarrett, Lichen, Rose’s daughter Catrin and her new husband Zac, so we’ll need all the room we can get.
The turkey is now roasting merrily away, Jonathan is bringing a lemon tart he made, and Erica is bringing a couple of other pies, so I think we’re all set! Ready, set…