Ready, Set - BASTE

It's Wednesday, November 26, 2008. 4:25 pm. I'm still at the office. I'm waiting until the mad commuter and traveler dash of people with too much luggage, their children and pets, and outdated time tables and no sense of direction and with pies and cakes, has subsided before I head home. But my head is spinning with Turkey Day stuff. And stuffing. Do I have all the right ingredients? I went shopping on Sunday and forget several key items. Celery. Cranberry sauce (whole berries like Mother and Jimmy like, not the jellied kind that I like, which I got because it was front and center on sale, so I couldn't miss it). Turkey, check. Bag of potatoes, red skinned because I keep the skins on for my mashed, with light cream, salt & pepper, a dash of herbs, a dollop of sour cream for, well, creaminess. Lots of butter for the potatoes, the mashed turnips - I got two because they were pretty small but I really hate cutting them because I like all ten of my fingers (or rutabagas if you were my Grandmother), plus butter for the stuffing; bag, not from scratch, please, like I have time for drying bread and crumbling bread - wait the phone is ringing, what is wrong with these people don't they know I should be LEAVING because I have to go home and clean the kitchen, and the bathroom and vacume the living room and make the bed for my brother who's coming for the weekend - but as I was saying, no from scratch stuffing for me (and I'm an in-the-bird stuffing girl, just in case you were wondering, though there's always left overs because I don't know when enough is really too much so I will have a bowl of that baking, too). I hope that Mom bought the stuff I forgot, and crap, I have no wine (I had meant to go check out the Beajolais Nouveau because I purely just LOVE that stuff, can drink it by the bottle and probably will, unless the supply is already out because the stuff they rushed in by plane is gone and the shipped cases and cases that will no doubt be for sale on Friday haven't arrived yet, and if I can stomach the cost of $10 per bottle instead of the $7 or $8 those cross-Atlantic bottles cost). I can run out tomorrow morning because the liquor stores will all be open (and mobbed with all the fools like me who forgot to get the vino) but if the Nouveau is gone, I'll settle for a light Shiraz or even a Merlot or perhaps one of those blends, or a Pinot Noir but I MUST have my red wine with my Thanksgiving dinner.

I'm exhausted but I'll be even more tired by the time I hit the bed tonight, but I am already really exhausted from imagining the chaos of the morning. Mom said she'd make the pie, but I'll bet cash money that I'll get home and she's too tired or forgets and I'll have to be up early to get the pie (pumpkin, OF COURSE) into the oven and while that is cooking, I'll do some laundry (because tomorrow is the only nice day of the weekend and I'm already backed up from last weekend when it rained) and I'll get out the bird seed and the peanuts to provide a feast for the wildlife (but sadly without our baby possum who got run over last week down the block) and then I'll lug the turkey out (DON'T FORGET TO TAKE IT OUT AND THAW IT, DUMMY!) and it is only 13 pounds so it will fit in the oven, unlike the year my Mother broke her arm and had to go to the emergency room and the turkey got stuck in the oven and the oven broke and we had to go out the day after Thanksgiving and buy another oven. I will make the stuffing - plain bag stuffing, white bread, not cornbread. No oysters, apples, raisins, cranberries, walnuts, almonds or exotic crap. Just celery, onions, parsely - I would have had fresh but the last 3 frosts killed my great patch of parsely - and sage and thyme - no rosemary because I hate the little needles - and I'll stuff that bird and get it in (remember to get out the Betty Crocker cookbook which has the turkey timetable because I can never remember how long it is supposed to cook). Once that is in I'll do the math (I hate math - I got a 24 in Algebra in my Senior Year, but Skidmore let me in anyway, and I'm still bad at it, you should see my checkbook) and figure out how long I have until I have to wash, peel, cut up and put on to boil the potatoes and turnips. Then in between I'll probably have some of that red wine and then I'll do some dishes because otherwise they'll pile up like the Empire State building and I refuse, I absolutely refuse to wake up on Friday morning to more dishes, because after 5:30 tomorrow, when I'm finished carving, and dishing up and serving dinner I'll be ready for relaxation! I'll cook up the giblets for the dogs and the feral cats because it is their holiday too (thankful for having a gooey, messy Mistress like me who doesn't mind hair all over the place, or the smell of fishy breath or the fact that I frequently step in dog poop that has been carefully hidden under leaves in the back yard like a little game of hide the poop that I always lose). Last will come the brussel sprouts - my brother Jimmy's favorite - I'll blanch them, then cut and sautee them until nice and brown in butter, lemon and garlic with salt and pepper and right about when they are ready to get started, I'll take the turkey out (Mother will probably have lost the TV remote by this time and I'll have had to find it, Jimmy will get bored with what he is watching on tv and want to color but I'll have to find the coloring books and crayons and if I'm really unlucky I'll discover the 1 missing ingredient and have to run to the store to get it before the store closes - I think at 2 or 3 or maybe it is 1). Then take out the turkey and let it sit; with luck it will hold together unlike the last two years when I overcooked it and the whole bird sort of collapsed (it tastes great but looks stupid). Then the pan with the gravy, salt, pepper, some extra jar gravy (I'm not proud) with salt and pepper and if it is a little watery, add some cornstarch (which I've learned has to get mixed with warm water, not just dumped into the pan because then it is all big and lumpy and nasty). Then I'll get it heating while I'm cutting the turkey (Jimmy likes a hunk of breast with the drumstick and lots of mashed everything, plus brussel sprouts). Mother will get little helpings and maybe she'll eat it all but if not the dogs will get a little extra treat on their IAMS for dinner. Once everyone else is served, I'll heap up my plate (my Grandmother always said "your eyes are bigger than your stomach" and she was right, they are, but by then I'll be absolutely starving to death having probably only had a few lime-flavored chips with some black bean dip along with the red wine while I'm cooking; I know sounds gross but tastes quite delish). Then I'll settle down and pig out. And yes, I'll eat until I can't move and I'll say screw the sink that has magically re-filled full of dishes and I'll let everyone help themselves to the pie and I'll wait an hour and then I 'll have a big piece of pie which, I hope, has enough extra spices in it because I like my pumpkin pie spicy, just like me. And when I have swallowed down the last piece - I'll have to loosen my sweat pants - another wonderful Thanksgiving will be over. And I'll be thankful to have made it through without mental or physical collapse, stove disasters, cooking mishaps, knife injuries, family feuds, broken bones, bad weather, annoying neighbors and WITH hugs and kisses from my brother, the original Miracle On 34th Street (not the remake), some singing with the dogs, a beautiful sunny day, good food, comfy clothes, and an expectation of 3 more days off to finish the dishes.

Happy Thanksgiving!