Thanksgiving. I love Thanksgiving. I love turkey and pumpkins and cranberry sauce. I love having a holiday that I celebrate the same as everyone else. I love the holiday cheer and the start of the full-fledged holiday season. I love the parade and the fall weather. I love Thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving also brings out the difference in my kids. Pie was so excited about her preschool’s Thanksgiving feast. She insisted on wearing her summery party dress. I volunteered to come in to help out, and she said to me as we were leaving, “Maybe you should put on some lipstick.” For what it’s worth, I didn’t. She loved the feast–the stone soup, the pumpkin bread, the apple crisp. Pie made a card at school for us. It read, “I’m thankful for Momma, Daddy, Doodles, and me!”
Doodles did not want to go to school. Not today nor yesterday. In fact he got downright upset about it. I couldn’t figure it out. His class was doing a little “reader’s theater” and he’d been practicing his lines for two weeks now (“I am a Native American bold. About me, many tales are told. I taught the pilgrims to plant and fish. Our three-day meal was delish!”). Turns out, he was completely stressed out by the idea of cranberries. The first graders were going to be making cranberry relish and doing activities with cranberries, and he despises cranberries. Not that he’s ever had one. But he throws up at the smell of blueberries and strawberries, so I was willing to back him up on this. So I spoke to his teacher and he was excused from all fruit activities. And he was happy. Doodles also did a worksheet on which he had to draw pictures of what he was thankful for. Can you guess? I didn’t think so. “My toys. My circuit boards. My inventions.”
My cooking for the night is done. My in-laws are at friends in Nantucket, my brother-in-law and his wife are in Belize, my parents are in Miami for Art Basel, so it’s a small affair. We have friends coming over and my sister is here, so it’s a mere party of ten, which is just perfect. Although I keep trying to add more dishes to the menu, only to be reminded that we don’t need more food on the menu.
Desserts are made. My pumpkin cake is cooling. Pumpkin made with fresh pumpkin, mind you. None of this canned stuff for us. My pilgrim hats are chilling in the fridge. (When I explained to my sister what I was making, she said, “Wow, when you decided to not be Mom, you really took it to an extreme.”)
Tweedle Twirp made the apple pie.
This year we decided to brine the turkey. I don’t eat much meat, so I definitely have a little guilt over the turkey. It looks so… turkey-ish. I told the turkey it was at the turkey spa, getting a special herbal bath.
We then put the turkey in an isolation chamber for a soothing night of introspection. It’s also the only place in the house with the proper temperature for a turkey in a ziplock in a cooler: The old entrance to the basement, unheated, cold, and just right. Originally I said to just leave it out on the side steps, but that was quickly nixed when Adam told me that my little cooler wouldn’t keep out the neighborhood raccoons and coyote.
What else have we done? I’ve spiced the pecans for the salad. The bread is on the counter drying out for stuffing. I made the crescent dough. The once-a-year crescent rolls that are made of butter. And a touch of flour. But really, butter. Mmmm, butter. Apple cider is in the fridge. I have all the stuff for kids’ appetizers and grown-up appetizers. Tomorrow I make the thyme rolls, the sweet potatoes with marshmallow topping, the stuffing. Toss together the salad. Obviously I need to roast the turkey and prepare the gravy. Our friends are bringing the cranberry sauce and the green beans. A complete meal! Of which Pie will eat the potatoes and Doodles will eat the turkey.
In the morning I hope to make muffins with more of my fresh pumpkin puree, but I do have a Turkey Trot to run, so I’m not sure I’ll have the time. Ah, Thanksgiving. Have I mentioned I love Thanksgiving?
It sounds like quite a feast.
Happy Thanksgiving.