I am ready to call this holiday quits. You could say, “You’re being a turkey day grinch,” and I could say back, “Nay, I’m not.” So what if I’d rather not celebrate a day of hypocrisy and debauchery. Every year since I left home and became an actual adult, I get pulled into a day of cooking bedlam to celebrate a holiday that may not have been rooted in goodwill.
This year, we chose to spend the holiday by ourselves in our first home. My Mom suggested that The Hubby and I have a candlelit dinner for two. We had something close enough… an under-the-overhead-lights dinner for two. The Hubby and I had a friendly discussion over the true meaning of Thanksgiving while in the middle of slaving over a stove with three pots whistling for attention and an oven housing a bird that was pampered and massaged moments before being roasted. The conclusion of our conversation was that we’ll give our own meaning to Thanksgiving. And that I’ll continue to go along with the hoopla… until further notice.
Don’t get me wrong. Just because I have an issue with gobble gobble day doesn’t mean that I’m ungrateful. On the contrary, I’m very good and quick with giving my thanks. Let me begin by saying how thankful I am for my marvelous Hubby and a wonderful circle of family, friends, and family friends.
With my roaring done, I’ll sweetly carry on and share two dishes that I was truly proud of: the dinner rolls I made and the apple pie The Hubby made. For me, the turkey wasn’t the star of the holiday dinner show. I did have two stars, however, and they have been mentioned. Why do I laud them? By the simple fact that they’re humble dishes and provided more satisfaction making and eating.
What of the turkey, you ask. Here it is. The smallest turkey that The Hubby could find in Whole Foods Redmond. A 16-pounder.
To all the women and men out there who pulled out all the stops on turkey day, hip-hip to all of us. Christmas and New Year are around the corner, let’s get our game faces on.