In 2004, we couldn't afford to go to West Virginia for Thanksgiving because Mark was unemployed and I didn't have the money to pay for the car rental. Last year we had just gotten married and I had just started my new job at ELC, Inc. the week before Thanksgiving, so we couldn't travel because I literally had no time off.
And this year... well, let's just say that Mark didn't want to drive his pregnant, nauseous wife all over bumpy country roads.
Mark called his dad to break the news, told him I was pregnant and that was why we wouldn't be coming home. He also told him to keep it on the down low for the time being and not tell anyone else. His dad's initial reaction had been subdued, which wasn't unusual for him. As Mark puts it, "Dad's a weird bird." So our non-appearance for the holidays was settled, but I felt bad for Mark.
Mark's absolutely favorite holiday is Thanksgiving. Hands down, bar none. It's far better than Christmas in his book. It's when he gets to go home and see family. Having his birthday land within days of Thanksgiving might also have something to do with it.
Staying home for Thanksgiving has always seemed a poor substitute compared to that so we've tried to make it as festive as possible over the past few years. We invite friends, have a big bird, do it up. However, the friends we usually invite all had plans back home this year, so it was just going to be the two of us.
Mark got the grand honor of being the chef. Well... I couldn't properly roast a turkey to save my life, so he HAD to be the chef regardles. I usually bake a pumpkin pie and help out in the kitchen by chopping veggies, crumbling bread, what have you, but I generally leave the bird and the bulk of the real cooking to him. (I do all the cleaning up, though, to make up for my lack of cooking. Usually. I was a little too sick to do it this time around.)
This year, Thanksgiving started off in a leisurely way. Since it was only going to be the two of us, we were in no rush to get dinner on the table at any particular time. We got up a little after 9 -- I usually can't sleep in past 8:30 these days becase of my nausea -- to start the cooking. We had decided the day before to brine the turkey to finish our 15 pounder's thawing and were relieved to find that it was thawed and ready to go.
Begin aside (AKA my not so funny story regarding the brining):
Mark is not a fan of brining, but we've done it for the past two years because the bird has wound up being rock hard the day before. To date, we can't really tell if it makes the bird moister or not, but the technique does help thaw out a half-solid bird pretty quick.
Wednesday afternoon I went out to the local supermarket to buy the brining ingredients we needed. It's only two and a half blocks away and I was motivated to brave the cold weather by my insatiable craving for tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich, the ingredients for which were not in our pantry. So I happily trudged off only to to break my key in our lock on my return. FUCK!
Of course I had left my cell phone in the apartment -- I didn't expect to need it on such a short trip. So I wound up having to trudge to the nearest payphone (the one frequented by the drug dealers) and call Mark so he could leave work early to rescue me. In the meantime, my stomach started screaming at me -- hello nausea! -- so I abandoned the tomato soup and grilled cheese fantasy and went to the deli for a muenster cheese sandwich and some ginger ale. Definitely not as good.
Of course, it seemed like an eternity before Mark showed up to my rescue. He bought a pair of needle nose pliers at the hardware store and gently extracted my broken key from the lock. Duh. I could have done the same thing and not have worked myself up to the level of stress and upset that I had. Let's just say that the experience kinda wrecked my otherwise happy day.
End aside. Back to turkey day.
We started off by preparing the stuffing. Now, Mark is an improvisational chef, relying on gut instinct and what we have handy. While this could be a disaster, his instincts always work for him... and well. This year he improvised a bit on the stuffing, which turned out to be absolutely delicious.
We had been watching Rachel Ray (her voice makes both of us cringe) doing her 60-minute Thanksgiving special sometime the week before. On the show, she made a quick stuffing using cranberry orange muffins as the base. Mark was inspired by this and wanted to try something like it. So I kept this in mind when ordering our food from FreshDirect. However we couldn't find any cranberry orange bread products but we did find a nice rosemary ciabatta and orange-scented dried cranberries so we opted to start off with that. To this torn bread and fruit mixture, Mark added:
- some butter-sauteed chopped onions and celery
- finely crumbled leftover cornbread -- he had made it as a treat for me earlier in the week
- coarsely chopped dried apples
- regular dried cranberries (for a little tartness)
- chopped fresh sage, thyme and parsley
- chopped turkey meat from the neck
- turkey broth to moisten it up and hold it together
- and the must-haves, kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
He stuffed most of it in the bird and put what was leftover in a baking dish. Mark LOVES stuffing so having extra is always a good thing. Once the bird was stuffed and oiled down, into the oven it went with a thermometer set for 165 in the breast... and off we went to our entertainments -- knitting, reading about knitting, and bad television for me; Diablo II for Mark.
Oddly, instead of working on one of my bazillion already started projects, I felt the itch to start something new. Something from stash. Something I might actually be able to wear regardless of what shape I was. And, most importantly, something completely mindless, requiring no charts, no shaping, nothing harder than keeping track of rows and knowing how to knit and purl. Something I could read to.
Turns out that I had just such a project.
I cast on for the two fronts of Obi (pictured below) from Jamieson's Simply Knit and went to town.
I finished Knitting Rules! which had been languishing on my nightstand for aeons, re-read Wendy Knits, and had a fun romp through Yarn Harlot. I revisited Cheaper than Therapy and finally cracked open Knitting Lessons. Through this, I knit. In fact, I made fantastic progress.
Halfway through both fronts on 11/25/06 (pile of UFOs underneath, waiting patiently for attention):
At some point in the afternoon, I suggested that Mark call Pomo, his 80-something year-old maternal grandmother and wish her a happy holiday. I was feeling guilty because we hadn't visited her in three years, and he's one of her favorite grandkids. I thought that he should find out when the rest of his family was visiting so that he could call at the same time they were there. You see, Pomo is as deaf as a post and a little cantankerous at her age. She often refuses to wear her hearing aid so calling her can be rather hit or miss. I figured that if he called when someone else was there, he would stand a much better chance of actually reaching her.
Mark called his sister's house and found himself talking to his brother-in-law and then to his father. His dad suddenly pretended to have a bad connection and took the phone outside, so "he could hear better." Of course, once outside his dad started asking after me and how the pregnancy was going. When Mark told him that we were expecting twins, I thought his Dad was going to burst. Mark told him about the ultrasound and how we were going back on Monday. His dad asked to speak to me and asked me how I was doing. He told me to drink lots of orange juice (for folic acid, is my guess) and I told him that I did (a half-truth; I drink it when I'm not too nauseous as the acid in it churns me up something fierce) and that I took a special vitamin. After a bit of pregnancy talk and Mark trying to convince his Dad to drive up to New York for a visit, his father took the phone inside. (In fact, his Dad called back later, when he got home, to ask us more questions. He was reserved no more.) Mark then began speaking to the rest of the assembled clan about deer hunting, turkey and general life.
He never did manage to call Pomo.
Once the phone call was done, it was time to get started on the sides. My sweet potato and the extra stuffing went into the oven along with the turkey. We got the potatoes boiling for the mashed and I started setting the table.
Then came the rush. There's always a whole lot of waiting and then an hour mad activity trying to get everything ready and on the table, while still hot.
The turkey came out for it's half hour of rest:
Mark started on the mashed potatoes and turkey gravy:
I poured out the cranberry sauce, nuked the corn and green beans and started bringing the finished items to the table (barefoot and pregnant, anyone?):
Our feast this year consisted of roast turkey, mashed potatoes, cornbread & rosemary ciabbata fruited stuffing, turkey gravy, corn nibblets, green beans, one lonely (and uneaten) sweet potato, cranberry sauce and (sob!) store-bought pumpkin pie. (I was not feeling up to baking this year.) We had sparkling apple cider instead of champagne:
The food was delish and the mood romantically festive. We had a lot to be thankful for -- our marriage, our sea monkeys and our menagerie. Maia, of course, got her share of the bird:
As did the cats. Which led to quite a few triptophan comas. The cats passed out rather early:
Followed not too much later by a few other household members:
Now I personally don't believe all the hype about triptophan comas.
After all, I WAS awake to take all those pictures, wasn't I?
Hope you enjoyed T-day, sea monkeys! It'll be even more fun next year!
