I'm actually not a huge fan of turkey. I just like the ceremony. Of the whole day, I guess.
I like waking up late to maple nut wedges (which are missing their gooey centers, thanks to Alexis). I like going through all my high school formal dresses and trying them on to see if they still fit (they all do - even if they are too horribly outdated and too taffeta to ever wear again). I like playing SEGA in the cool basement for a few hours. Sonic the Hedgehog, Aladdin, NBA Jam. I like filching a crescent roll or two before they're formally offered. I even like the exhausting dinners themselves. Fighting and not fighting with family. I like rolls. I like dark meat. I like mashed potatoes. No, I love mashed potatoes.
It's a bit different now that I'm married. Better in some ways, not in others.
Sleeping in. Sleeping in. Sleeping in. Reading a book that seems at first weird, and then perfect for Thanksgiving. Eating a low-key breakfast (no maple wedges). Going to an 11am showing of 2012, which isn't perfect but engages you for the full 2 hours, 40 minutes. Coming home to snack on leftover Kneaders. Dancing around to Gene Autry Christmas records. And then preparing the turkey. Fastidiously following the recipes. All of which were ripped out of the Nov. issue of Cooking Light. SAUTEED CARROTS WITH SAGE. HARICOTS VERTS WITH WARM BACON VINAIGRETTE. BUTTERMILK-PARMESAN MASHED POTATOES. HOMEMADE CRANBERRY SAUCE. CLASSIC ROAST TURKEY.
Thinking the thought: isn't it weird that so many people are eating the same exact meal today?
Taking the turkey out after 2 hours, 40 minutes (you could have watched 2012 again in that time, had you the inclination. Or wiser yet, 2001). Smelling the sage. Running your hand across the skin, thinking, "was I supposed to have basted this?" Thinking, "have I ever read something where baste wasn't used as a verb relating to poultry-preparation?" Thinking, "I should try to use baste in something I write this week in a new connotation." Setting the table. Realizing the turkey still has to be carved. Not knowing how this is done. From the look on his face, knowing Jared does not know how this is done.
Googling. Watching some videos. For too long. For two hungry.
And then, going for it, our own way.
wow. did you catch all those jokes? you are WELCOME.
what i have learned:
- skip the online video tutorials, even Martha. it's a turkey, for crying out loud. just get a knife and have at it.
- turns out carving a turkey (and watching someone carve a turkey) has one serious side effect - dad jokage.
