Nov 26 2022
Thanksgiving
As befits someone who will have to mortgage her shopworn soul and possibly sell what few jewels she has left from her formerly gracious life, Thanksgiving was a modest affair. I felt too depressed and discouraged to join my family, so I just had a small celebration on my own.
When I called the butcher a few weeks earlier to try to reserve a turkey breast, I was surprised to learn that there was some kind of poultry plague and the turkey supply was both limited and unreliable, so no reservations were allowed. I stopped by later that week and scored a 5 pound frozen breast, which would do fine.
I thawed it in the refrigerator for two days, and roasted it for 2 hours at 375 degrees after prepping it Nana-style, with butter, sage, salt, and pepper, and it was, if I do say so myself, perfect:
I made the pan juices into gravy, and served it with mashed potatoes, stuffing/dressing baked in a separate glass dish, and carrots glazed with honey, butter, and tangerine juice. It was simple, but delicious. I had some Oyster Bay sauvignon blanc with the meal, reminding me of how I often used to drink it with Dad in his garden before dinner, or while we were cooking together. I am thankful for those happy memories. Despite the car disaster, I do have a lot to be thankful for.
FIVE YEARS AGO: A happy Thanksgiving.
TEN YEARS AGO: A house full of friends and family for Thanksgiving.
FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: A…memorable Thanksgiving. For so many reasons.
TWENTY YEARS AGO: A bittersweet Thanksgiving.
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