Measuring Success

I wasn't necessarily planning to make Thanksgiving dinner this year.  I'd tossed out the idea of just grabbing a couple of pizzas and seeing how many movies we could cram into one day.  We did that the last time the kids and I were together for the holiest of all food holidays because there was no way I was going to risk a repeat of the year before that.  And it was fun!  We ordered half-baked pies from Zachary's in the morning and scrambled out the door. We came home 4 movies and 2 large buckets of popcorn later and induced our own TDay comas. And the fact that The Academy has decided to nominate 10 films for Best Picture this year has us (ok, me) in a panic over how we're possibly going to see them all by March 7 at 3:30 pm when all the Beautiful People begin their red carpet promenade.  But my suggestion was met with about as much enthusiasm as I guess teenagers can muster for parental suggestions that don't begin with "I'd like to give you this cash".  So, with no decision made by that point, I woke up last Sunday realizing that I wanted to make dinner and thinking I could actually do it.

And judging by normal standards I would say my meal was a success.  Compared to the last time I attempted to make the whole thing on my own - and ended up throwing the entire inedible bird into the trash as my son looked on in horror - I'm ready to be offered my own cooking show and I'm just waiting for the phone to ring. 

This year my goal was simple:  Don't f#%&k it up.  I wasn't going to try anything unusual - just the basics.  Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, candied yams, green bean casserole (yes, that one - more on that in a minute), gravy, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie.  Oh yeah - and vegetarian versions of stuffing and gravy for my daughter, who adopted this lifestyle around the start of this year (thank goodness she didn't feel compelled to have a Tofurkey).  No problem, right? 

It wasn't, really.  It took a lot of time.  Time I spent standing, bending over, stooping; measuring, chopping, roasting.  It wasn't the BEST Thanksgiving dinner I've ever eaten, but it was far from the worst.  I definitely made a couple of mistakes - like forgetting to use the turkey stock that I made for the stuffing - after making my vegetarian daughter and her vegetarian boyfriend go to the store to buy the necks (that's ok, it just meant there was more for gravy), and deciding at the last moment to make an herb rub for the turkey (salt and pepper and perhaps some aromatics = better).  And I learned some great, and interesting things like: You can actually make a vegetarian gravy that tastes pretty good.  You can make a flipping AWESOME turkey gravy by adding a couple of dollops of veal demi glace that you happened to have spent 33 hours making and now have lying about, waiting for its next big reveal.  That green bean casserole I used to love, isn't all that good - even when you add water chestnuts and slivered almonds - or maybe it's just that my tastes have changed in the 5+ years since I last had it.  And, if you just don't care about or for dark meat, just buy a whole breast!  Brine it and it not only tastes great, but you still have leftovers for sandwhiches AND a carcass with which to make a yummy soup (tonight's endeavor).

In the end, dinner met the meager expectations I had for it: it was good, if not special.  I managed to get it all on the table, warm, at about the same time.  I didn't really lose my temper even once.  I walked away with only two minor burns.  My kids thought it was good (at least that's what they said to my face).

And we still got to see a movie.  One that we've decided was a perfect thematic addition to the day:  Running Scared.  What's not to like about crack addicts, pimps, prostitutes and cops-gone-bad?   It reminded us that we have a lot to be thankful for.