Friday, November 27, 2009

NaBloPoMo, ShmaBloPoMo

So I made it 24 days. That's *almost* a month, right? For me, it's a special edition: NaBloPo24days. But the last few days have been so full that I've been completely incapable of logging in, throwing some cute picture of my kid up on the blog and attempting a witty caption.

Sorry 'bout that. Family came into town and all kinds of merriment (read: anxiety) got in the way of my ability to sit down for five minutes daily and throw a picture up on my blog with an attempt at a witty caption. Yeah, it's been that fun.

Hosting a holiday is serious business, people. There are no fewer than 850 trips to be made to the closest grocery store because you didn't read that recipe correctly and the Nutella icebox pie requires TWO containers of Cool-Whip (to which my father says, "You know that's oil, right?" Yes, Dad. I watch commercials, too.) For the record? Nutella icebox pie is so sweet that even I couldn't eat it. And that, my friends, is saying something. something horribly tragic. I hate nothing more than finding that something is too sweet for my palate (well, I do hate somethings, like terrorism and Glenn Beck more, but you know what I mean).

Also something that makes the holiday a little less cheery and a leeeeetle bit more frantic? Ordering a "fresh" turkey from Whole Foods, picking it up during day-before-Thanksgiving grocery store mayhem, only to get home, pull it out of the box and find it....frozen. Just how distraught was I? It is a big fuzzy memory for me, but I do believe I may have dropped a couple of "f" bombs in front of my father. Some people say my dad looks like Dick Cheney (I adore him anyway). He's not the type of guy you drop "f" bombs in front of. Just sayin'.

But I did. Then I grabbed the box o' frozen meat, threw it in the back seat of the car, checked my pocket for the receipt (because seriously the last thing I want to do is walk back IN the store with a frozen turkey I payed $60 for and end up having to buy it AGAIN because I can't produce a receipt), and headed back off to Whole Freaking Foods.

I spent the 10 minute drive over to the store going through what I would say, the whole angry consumer shpeil I planned to pull, making a scene until they went out back and brought me a fresh, UNfrozen turkey. Things like, "I hope you're happy that you've RUINED my family's Thanksgiving!!!" and "You have lost a loyal customer in me", and "My uncle was right to boycott your stupid company!!! You stupid douchebags!!!!" I had a LOT of pre-holiday anxiety building up and I was ready to unload it all on the poor saps behind the meat counter.

When I got into the store and made my way to the back of the store, I swear they sensed the angry-in-fact-nearly-psychotic-woman vibe coming off of me in waves. I was met by a manager of some sort who said, "Is there a problem with you turkey, ma'am??" (I only have a problem being called "ma'am" when I'm already pissed off. No idea why) I said, "Yeah, I want to know why I ordered a fresh turkey and I just opened this up to find that it's a frozen turkey?!!" I was so proud of myself for not allowing any obscenities to slide out of my mouth during this exchange because in my head? I was screaming one long string of 'em.

Turns out, my turkey wasn't in fact "frozen". It was simply "flash chilled at 28 degrees during transit," so its outer layers were indeed a bit icy and solid feeling. But, I was assured, over and over, as my breathing normalized and my skin tone returned to it's normal non-ruby red hue, that it was NOT frozen and would, after a few hours in the refrigerator, be completely thawed and ready to go.

To give you a bit of background, my parents hosted Thanksgiving for eleventy billion years while I was growing up and into my adulthood. Thanksgiving memories for me consist of Mom and Dad fluttering about the kitchen (Dad would insist that he never, ever fluttered), whipping up batches of culinary perfection in the shape of mashed potatoes, sausage and apple stuffing, butternut squash and of course, the perfect turkey. This was my first year hosting for them. Now, granted, I asked my dad to make the turkey just to be sure it was fabulous, but I was the one responsible for providing him with the turkey I charged him with cooking to perfection. I may have had a smidgen of irrational anxiety about that turkey. And to bring home a turkey I thought was frozen solid less than 24 hours before the Thanksgiving meal? Shaved a few years off of my life, easily.

But I found, as I woke up every couple of hours over night to stick my head in the fridge and poke at the turkey, that by morning, Deli Manager Man at Whole Foods was right and my turkey had indeed not been reallyreally frozen, only a little bit frozen. Honestly, people? PUT A FUCKING STICKER ON THE BOX THAT SAYS: THIS TURKEY IS NOT REALLYREALLY FROZEN. That would have saved me a LOT of breathing into a paper bag. And we all know I do enough of that to begin with.

So, I had to make a lot of trips to grocery stores (those were only two examples out of the 850) and my Nutella pie gave us all Diabetes, but otherwise it was a pretty good day.

Ethan was a big fan of the cheese platter before dinner. He said "More goat, please," a lot.

I really wanted to make this shmancy pastry baked brie, but I forgot to take the puff pastry out of the freezer. It's not so easy ot manage or puffy when it's frozen. Also frozen? The crescent rolls I had planned on making but forgot to take out of the freezer the night before. "Frozen" was a big thing for us this year.

I did manage to make an ass-kicking apple pie and Paula Deen's pumpkin cheesecake and I have sworn off all other left-overs so that I have room in my belly to eat whatever is left of those.

Ethan watched the Macy's Day Parade WAY to close to the TV, but it's a holiday.

Wanna know what's fun? Taking a room of rabid football fans hostage by turning the TV to the Annual Dog Show and refusing to give back the remote. Look at the preshus pug!!!!

Ethan grew tired of waiting for dinner and proceeded to eat his socks. Gross.

We like cranberry sauce. Whole berry, whole berry with oranges and my personal favorite, jellied and straight out of the can with ridges. Also? We like wine.

I brilliantly took this picture before taking the tin foil off the food,'s a picture of some tin foil.

there's the food. And peoples' reachy hands. "Give me the stuffing...nom nom nom nom"

Ethan of course, glutton that he is, dined on a dinner roll. Just. a. dinner. roll.

Turkey jack o' lantern provided by my artsy friend Sally. He presided over our meal this year. (and looked on disapprovingly as we devoured a turkey, I'm sure).

All in all, life-stunting anxiety aside, it was a good holiday. I ate until I was so full I could barely move, slept for a few hours and then found myself trolling the aisles of ToysRUs at 3am. But that's another story for another day.


Becca said...

Your table is beautiful! What a pretty dining room. Glad the turkey thing worked out. I would have flipped out too, honestly.

MuddyMaggie said...

Love the foil! so totally fiber rich & high in minerals!

Sarah said...

LOL @ reachy hands.


I schedule my posts to post while I am away from the computer-- is that cheating??

grandma bear said...

It was worth waiting the extra days for! What an adventure. Sounds like all and all it was a plus. Love to all.

Cass said...

I feel your pain re: the stress of the turkey. My mother's first year of hosting Thanksgiving consisted of her ordering an organic "fresh" turkey from Whole Foods we had the same problem. Well, except that it was ACTUALLY frozen through. Let's just say that the poop hit the fan that day, she picked one up from another grocery store and Whole Foods offered her a turkey for Christmas and a huge gift card. At least it all worked out in the end.

Everything you posted looks delicious, baked brie is one of my absolute favorites.

Aunt Becky said...

Now I am freaking hungry for brie. Can I come over so you can cook for me?

lonek8 said...

everything was so pretty! i always say i'm going to actually dress up the table so it isn't just like eating on any other day, but with three little kids who spend a total of about 15 minutes at the table, what's the point? When they are all a wee bit older and ready to not destroy everything, then I can have a pretty table. Right? Right? Happy Thanksgiving (I agree with Aunt Becky about the brie - Y U M)