Thanksgiving Post-Mortem
I think I need to jot down a few notes from this year's experience so I can a) continue to build mad turkey skillz and also so my kids can look back on this stuff and be able to do it on their own when the time comes.
I asked Miriam when she was going to take over Thanksgiving and she emphatically said never. That's not gonna work for me.
1) This year I had a really big turkey because last year we seriously had NO turkey leftovers. Like none. So our 20 pounder went into the oven before 9am and promptly scorched because it was within 2 inches of the element. And we had WAY TOO MUCH turkey left over this year. It's so like me to over-correct. Note for next year: 15 pound turkey, tops.
2) For the second year running, the turkey seriously held us up. All the guidelines say 10-15 minutes per pound but it never works out like that for me. Maybe it's because I brine the bird and it gets extra cold? I even took it out of the brine and let it sit for a couple of hours to come to temperature before I put it in the oven. No dice. I ended up closer to 20 minutes per pound and still had some deep interior spots looking a little questionable. (Luckily we had more than enough well cooked outer parts to feed everyone.) Note for next year: start even earlier.
3) Because the turkey held us up, the parade of casserole and veggies didn't make it into the oven on time. First world problem - I have so much food I need three ovens to cook it all. Note for next year: Use the portable roaster aka turkey oven. That leaves me one oven at 350 for casseroles and one oven at 425 for roasted veggies. (I do pies the day before.)
4) Note for next year: More wine. ('Nuff said.)
5) I had a request for oyster dressing this year. I had never made, tasted, nor seen oyster dressing. Note for next year: 1/4 of the intarweb recipe I grabbed will be sufficient for next year. Corollary note: Ask someone who has made, tasted, or seen the new recipe I'm trying if it makes sense.
6) Mash-ups are good. New favorite recipe: Roasted Brussels Sprouts with pastrami and pickled red onions. Definitely a keeper.
7) Gravy notes: one tablespoon of flour to a cup of cold stock or water. Keep doing it until it thickens. I always try to put too much flour in at once and end up having to strain the lumps out. It turns out just fine, but the extra time to strain the gravy is a hassle when I'm trying to get everything on the table.
8) Carving notes: Turkey needs to rest more than 30 minutes. Big ones really need the time to compose themselves, and while I usually stick the bird on a board in order to salvage the roaster so I can start making gravy, the amount of juices that spill out of that bad boy run all over the counter, and sometimes the floor. I need to research/find the proper base for turkey carving. Preferably one that has a 4 - 6 cup juice reservoir.
9) Note for next year: More rolls.
10) Nobody mentioned missing the bread stuffing, but because I won't have latkes next year I may add it back in. And it will be secretly filled with all sorts of meat and or veggies to make it a little more nutritious.
11) I made the girls set up the table the day before and then we went out for dinner Wednesday. WIN! Note for next year: AGAIN!
12) Notes, notes, notes. Having several notes going along with my recipes printed out was exceedingly helpful. Note for next year: A post it with each food item on it laid out on buffet with serving dish and implement. Countdown note from eating time to wake up time on Thursday. Big ass grocery list started from recipes and notes from previous years - Tuesday Big Shop, leaving Wednesday for all the stuff I forget on Tuesday. Note from Pop: Buy an other dozen eggs.
I hope your Thanksgiving went as smoothly as mine and that your holidays are wonderful.
21 November 2013
Is It Cancerous In Here, Or Is It Just Me?
I'm not sure if it is because of the stupid pink October, or the even stupider 'Movember'** but lately I've been seeing a lot of cancer. I feel surrounded by it. Friends, family, neighbors, acquaintances have all had bad news diagnoses rendered in the past little while. People who I have been following by blog have succumbed, new blogs are constantly popping up as recommended reading for me and a good many of them are Stage 4 folks.
** As an aside, my beef with Movember is: Why make your face look like a vagina in order to bring awareness to men's health???? Well, and I hate mustaches/beards. But I digress....
I'm trying to figure out how I feel about this because I don't feel right. I'm quite disturbed by it and I'm not sure if what I'm feeling is part of my new normal (being hypersensitive to cancer?) or just a result of the amount of bad news I've heard. We all feel that twinge of there-but-for-the-grace-of-God when we hear of someone else's misfortunes, but having been struck once really brings it home. And having had it doesn't protect me from having it again... like chicken pox would. So when I hear that someone else has cancer, it disturbs me in a hey-it-could-be-me-again way, as well as an another-one-bites-the-dust kind of way. I know what surgery and chemo is like. Thinking about others going through it is saddening. Sure, it's doable, but it sucks.
The thing about cancer is that it is really so very random. Sure there are risk factors, but how many times have you heard someone say something to the effect of "I can't believe Jane Doe got cancer! She exercised, and didn't smoke and was really healthy! Who would have though she'd get it?" Which is kind of like saying you can't believe John Doe got hit by a bus, because he always crossed at the corner. In fact, I'd hazard to say that UN-healthy people have a better chance of early diagnosis simply because they are more closely monitored. We ALL carry cancer in our bodies, it's just that most of the time our cells recognize it and kill it before it gets established. But sometimes, they don't.
I'm quite unsettled these days, also I'm feeling a teensy bit morbid in that I'm keeping a close eye on the folks I know who are terminal. And feeling guilty for it, because I'm finding the process fascinating. Our culture so poorly prepares us for death - from our own perspective or for the deaths of our loved ones. It is the elephant in the room. No matter what you believe, death is treated with an aura of finality that is almost dismissive. We talk of carrying on, healing, and moving past the grief, sometimes even before the loved one has passed. And we discuss settling accounts, making peace, and burying the hatchet if we are the one dying. And what about the age old question, is it better to know when you are going to die or have it come out of the blue with no warning?
And as humans are a curious lot, I ask, as most people do, "Why?" and I search for meaning in what I've already identified as a totally random event. I feel an obligation to glean some lesson from those who are facing a terminal diagnosis, as if doing so would give their passing some meaning. Will John Doe be gratified to know that having read his blog, I hugged my kids today? Does that make a dying person 'feel better?' Is this just a manifestation of 'survivors guilt?' You know, my 'new normal.'
I'm not sure if it is because of the stupid pink October, or the even stupider 'Movember'** but lately I've been seeing a lot of cancer. I feel surrounded by it. Friends, family, neighbors, acquaintances have all had bad news diagnoses rendered in the past little while. People who I have been following by blog have succumbed, new blogs are constantly popping up as recommended reading for me and a good many of them are Stage 4 folks.
** As an aside, my beef with Movember is: Why make your face look like a vagina in order to bring awareness to men's health???? Well, and I hate mustaches/beards. But I digress....
I'm trying to figure out how I feel about this because I don't feel right. I'm quite disturbed by it and I'm not sure if what I'm feeling is part of my new normal (being hypersensitive to cancer?) or just a result of the amount of bad news I've heard. We all feel that twinge of there-but-for-the-grace-of-God when we hear of someone else's misfortunes, but having been struck once really brings it home. And having had it doesn't protect me from having it again... like chicken pox would. So when I hear that someone else has cancer, it disturbs me in a hey-it-could-be-me-again way, as well as an another-one-bites-the-dust kind of way. I know what surgery and chemo is like. Thinking about others going through it is saddening. Sure, it's doable, but it sucks.
The thing about cancer is that it is really so very random. Sure there are risk factors, but how many times have you heard someone say something to the effect of "I can't believe Jane Doe got cancer! She exercised, and didn't smoke and was really healthy! Who would have though she'd get it?" Which is kind of like saying you can't believe John Doe got hit by a bus, because he always crossed at the corner. In fact, I'd hazard to say that UN-healthy people have a better chance of early diagnosis simply because they are more closely monitored. We ALL carry cancer in our bodies, it's just that most of the time our cells recognize it and kill it before it gets established. But sometimes, they don't.
I'm quite unsettled these days, also I'm feeling a teensy bit morbid in that I'm keeping a close eye on the folks I know who are terminal. And feeling guilty for it, because I'm finding the process fascinating. Our culture so poorly prepares us for death - from our own perspective or for the deaths of our loved ones. It is the elephant in the room. No matter what you believe, death is treated with an aura of finality that is almost dismissive. We talk of carrying on, healing, and moving past the grief, sometimes even before the loved one has passed. And we discuss settling accounts, making peace, and burying the hatchet if we are the one dying. And what about the age old question, is it better to know when you are going to die or have it come out of the blue with no warning?
And as humans are a curious lot, I ask, as most people do, "Why?" and I search for meaning in what I've already identified as a totally random event. I feel an obligation to glean some lesson from those who are facing a terminal diagnosis, as if doing so would give their passing some meaning. Will John Doe be gratified to know that having read his blog, I hugged my kids today? Does that make a dying person 'feel better?' Is this just a manifestation of 'survivors guilt?' You know, my 'new normal.'
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)