[Author’s note: This is a reprinted article from Thanksgiving 2007.]
Well my parents are out-of-town for the holiday but of course everyone expects food and no one was making the offer to cook so with less than a week to go I made a decision. On an errant whim (and fueled by overconfidence borne out of watching too many episodes of Gordon Ramsay’s Cooking nightmares on BBC) I decided to fill in and cook the family Thanksgiving dinner this year.
A totally traditional menu. The turkey of course, homemade stuffing, freshly made cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, veggies, gravy, cornbread muffins, and pies.
I got a thanksgiving cooking book and started shelling out big bucks at the local supermarket for the best stuff I could get my hands on. First thing to look at was the oven. Which I didn’t.
Wrestling a 20 pound turkey into a tray and tying up the legs and buttering it up and hoping that it doesn’t fall on the floor. Keeping it cool but not cold overnight. I got up at 5 and started the day. The oven turned out to be underpowered. Luckily I started the turkey at 6. Lucky cause at noon it still wasn’t done. Didn’t help I suppose that I was looking in on it every five minutes.
The cranberries were the best. Cranberries with raspberry preserves with a hint of lemon, and cinnamon. Well worth the couple of bubbles of cranberry sauce that burped and scalded my arm with blazing hot cranberry goo.
The potatoes were another matter. My level of respect for my mother took a huge leap. It’s no wonder that peeling potatoes is a punishment in the army. I find it remarkable that I didn’t slice my fingers up with all that peeling.
The stuffing was touch and go. I added the bread along with poultry spices, chicken stock, pecans, raisins and sausage. It looked like old oatmeal, but I gave it a stir and it passed it through the oven to give it a golden brown color.
Around noon I got desperate and cranked the oven to 500 degrees. After half an hour I took the bird out and made the gravy.
Ideally the veggies were supposed to have been freshly chopped and prepared but while I was shopping I looked and considered and I knew I wouldn’t have the time. Frozen. Hopefully fresh next time.
The pies, jeeeeeez, the pies. One can of pumpkin, cinnamon, nutmeg, and brown sugar. The sweet potato pie. Yet more peeling. Boiling them and then mashing them. More spices but with orange juice added. They took so long I was jumping up and down at the dinner table checking on them and they came out just in time.
By comparison the cornbread muffins were a breeze. They had to share the oven with the pies but they got done faster.
In between everything running into the dining room and setting things up.
Round 5 in the afternoon running to change out of the food smeared clothes and washing up cause promptly at 6 everyone arrived. Three brothers, my sister, my sister-in-law, and 4 nieces and nephews. My sister and sister-in-law helped clean up and I lucked out that the dishwasher didn’t have a mental breakdown.
I don’t know how mom does this every year, and I can understand why she gets touchy afterwards.
Maybe pizza next year.
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