First off, this year’s Thanksgiving was unusual, being one of the rare occasions when She Who Must Be Obeyed was not the one cooking most of the food and playing host. This year, the honor went to our friends Gary and JoAnn, with turkeys provided by Shelly and Marc T.
We gathered at 6:00 pm, somewhat later than is our usual practice. The late start tends to sharpen the appetite, but it has the unfortunate side-effect of putting you in bed with a massively bloatacious stomach, having had fewer hours in which to digest the meal.
There was no salad. Fine by me. A salad at a Thanksgiving feast is a bit like Tits on a Boar-Hog; completely useless. Why fill up on healthy salad when you can be packing your kishkes with yummy Meat-Wads?
The turkey was succulent; falling-off-the-bone tender and moist.
SWMBO contributed a Spinach Casserole, a side dish that packed a wallop thanks to a liberal infusion of Jalapeño Jack cheese. Top-drawer.
I whipped up a batch of blueberry chutney, recipe courtesy of Kimberly (Music and Cats). The combination of tart fruit and ginger complemented the turkey beautifully. We served this fine condiment in a glass turkey-shaped dish, one that was inexplicably (and hilariously) misidentified as a “Cranberry Swan” by Seth, Marc and Shelly’s son-in-law:
Seth: Could you pass the Cranberry Swan?Seth’s wife Alisa (Marc and Shelly’s daughter) contributed a Swedish Corn Pudding that was mighty tasty.
Elisson: Harh! I am so blogging this.
Gary made his Infamous Sweet Potato Pudding, a rare example of a sweet potato dish that is sugary without being cloying, with JoAnn providing the classic Green Bean Casserole. Say what you will about the Green Bean Casserole - if you deck it out with a thick enough coating of French-Fried Onions, it’s just fine.
SWMBO also brought a mess of her Sausage-Rice Stuffing with Parmesan, Pine Nuts, and Raisins. To me, it ain’t Thanksgiving without this stuffing. We’ve been eating it for over twenty years now.
Completing this Groaning Board o’ Goodies were dishes of cranberry sauce, spiced apple rings, and spiced crabapples.
I somehow managed to get a little of everything on my plate, wisely choosing to bypass the (superfluous) hot rolls. That was plenty, although it was hard to resist going back to the trough for a smidge more turkey and “Spinach Casserole à la Burnyoursphincterout.” Oh, did I mention the three glasses of Chateau Ste. Michelle Riesling? Nothing like a little wine to get the juices flowing. I felt fine. Hell - we all felt fine.
It was the dessert that did us in.
JoAnn made not one, but two apple pies, along with two cakes. As if this were not enough, she brought in a Greenwood’s Holy Shit Chocolate by Gawd Cream Pie. This proved to be my undoing.
As I have said before with respect to this pie, mere mortals cannot eat a whole slice. It is far too dense, too rich, too obscene. One slice, passed around the table about five times, is enough for a small army.
But last night, I ate a whole slice.
Not for me, the wimpy Apple Pie, the Cranberry and White Chocolate Bundt Cake, no.
One slice of Greenwood’s Holy Shit Chocolate by Gawd Cream Pie, and you could stick a fork in me: I was done.
Later, at home, I gulped down a shot of Underberg bitters. It helped, but not enough to prevent a lot of tossing and turning. Bloatificus Maximus.
Never again! quoth I. At least, not until next year.