The thing about holidays is that there are billions of things that can make one cranky. Jacked-up airline prices and crowded airports; insanity at the market and children who insist on dallying with strep throat. Not to mention the pressure, the crowds, and all those random crazy hungry people who insist they are related to you.
You can’t do much about the crazies other than learn to love ’em. But the rest of it can be avoided if you do what I do: schedule Thanksgiving for whenever the heck it works for you. Trust me, if you roast it, they will come. For us, Thanksgiving was this past weekend.
I cooked this sumptuous meal–
Pictured: smattering of little people who would consume the turkey.
Not pictured: the actual turkey.
Thing is, I can’t figure out how those fancy-shmancy bloggies do it. I don’t know how they manage to bring home the bacon, fry it up with grease splattering everywhere and photograph it at the same time. I get the camera into the kitchen, but when I’m up to my elbows in turkey butt with onion-induced tears streaming down my face I always forget to reach for it.
It’s probably a good thing. Should I happen to remember one day I have no doubt that said camera would land itself right up in there with the onions and the apples and that would be no good. No good at all.
Posterity will have to wait.
Trust me when I tell you that the turkey was golden and gorgeous. I started out with a deep muscle rub-down, a nice buttery-sage-cider massage which relaxed him enough to climb into that oven and do his job.
Mmmm, check out this golden roasted turkey–
If by golden roasted turkey I mean a haggard bunch of related turkeys posed on the front stairs. Which I do.
This year for faux-Thanksgiving I took an atypical laissez-faire approach towards dessert. Not eating it, of course, but making it. I handed that duty off to my sister, who made a yummy pumpkin cheesecake, and my brother, who under pressure and duress from the wise woman-folk in his life agreed to make the cool, free-form apple pie we found in our new Pioneer Woman cookbook.
Baby brother delivered. Check out his results. Err, I mean, Look! It’s Grandma and Grandpa with some of the kiddies at the park.
Hang on a second. With someone else bellying up to the old oven, I was freed up to snap some real live food pictures–
Viewing this lovely picture one might think that the most enjoyable part about forcing a brother to bake a pie would be eating it. But that wasn’t so.
The best part of this pie was the post-game debriefing provided by his supportive family. We lovingly went through every step of his process to point out where he went wrong and what he could have done better. It was very kind of us, and although he bravely declined my offer of a pad and pencil for note taking, I know my brother was thankful for the feedback.
At least on the inside. And because my heart is just that big, I will give him another chance to redeem himself. Aren’t big sisters the best?
And now, with our holiday feasting behind us, let me be the first to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving. I know, I know it’s early. But that’s the way I roll. Oftentimes I find myself ahead of the curve.
Setting the pace.
Dancing on the cutting edge.
But it’s all to your advantage dear reader. I may completely rearrange the calendar to meet my needs, but that does not mean I’m selfish. Just for you, you poor souls for whom the pressures of Thanksgiving still loom large on the horizon, I offer you this–an already planned, tried and true Thanksgiving menu–
My Thanksgiving Menu: The Recipes
- Sage and cider glazed Turkey
- Cheater’s gravy
- Caramelized Onion and Cornbread stuffing
- Homemade cranberry sauce