Fist off, apologies for such a delay in posting, and for
leaving you all on what I’m sure is the edge of your seats. Excuses include a
trip back home, the holidays, and jetlag, but enough of that.
So to recap, most of the groceries for the dinner had been
acquired by Wednesday night. The plan was to make the piecrusts on Wednesday,
do most if not all of the desserts on Thursday night as well do some other
chopping prep, possibly start the sweet potato dinner rolls, and finish the rest
of my assigned dishes the following morning. This all sounded quite reasonable.
The plan got off to a good start – all shopping was done and
piecrusts were made by Wednesday evening. Thursday was when things went
slightly (but not disastrously) awry.
Over the course of the day, several of my coworkers came over to
reiterate how excited they were for the dinner, and casually ask if, you know,
it would be alright if they brought their Mom, or a friend in town, or by the
way, have you invited my boss? Because it making the discussion of my weekend
plans awkward if he’s not invited. Now, I’m never one to turn someone away from
a party I’m hosting, so of course I said yes to everyone’s request. But it also
fueled my greatest fear: not having
enough food at my party. This is a deep-seeded fear of mine, the origin of
which I can only trace to the central, essential importance my family gives to
food in all celebratory occasions.
Thursday also happened to be the last day in the office for
one of the coworkers on my team, which of course meant post-work drinks at the
office’s favorite watering hole – and most importantly – on the boss’ credit
card. The plan was to stay for just a glass of wine (just one!), go home and do
some prep, head out again to make a brief appearance at a friend’s birthday
drinks, and get to bed at a reasonable time for an early start the next day.
But somehow one glass of wine rolled into two or three or who knows really, and
I found myself glancing down at my watch and dashing home in a mild panic.
I dove into pie making with a new sense of urgency and admittedly
a slight buzz from the evening’s celebration. Nevertheless, I managed to
produce an apple pie, pumpkin pie, ginger cookie crust, and some chopping of
stuffing ingredients – and all by 2:30 am! A few short hours later I was back
in the kitchen. The morning prep actually went quite smoothly, and it was a huge
sigh of relief once the turkey was in the oven – though considering neither I
nor my co-conspirator had successfully cooked a turkey before, I wasn’t exactly
breathing easily…
To be completely honest, I was concerned that we may have
put the turkey in later than we should have. Instead, the turkey finished
cooking 45 minutes before expected.
I started (frantically) texting friends to suggest they forgo any sort
of social decorum to be “fashionably late” and arrive on schedule if they had
any hope of warm turkey. Of course just as the turkey was early, some of the
sides were taking longer than expected to cook, and soon I found myself
crouching in front of a hot oven testing sweet potatoes while simultaneously
fielding phone calls and fending off well-meaning offers of help in the
kitchen.
But even with the early turkey and the late sides, the meal
was eventually served, buffet style, to all 17 guests. And yes, there was plenty of food for all. For
several of my guests, it was their first Thanksgiving dinner, and though I’m
not one to brag, I like to think it was a fairly good one. Reflections and
findings include:
- They may not be the most environmentally friendly or up to Martha Stewart’s standards, but by the end of the night I was so thankful for disposable plates.
- Expectations for having time to take a shower before guests arrive will probably not be met.
- Pumpkin pie is apparently very American – hardly any of the non-Americans present knew what it was. The finding was further confirmed when I brought leftovers into work (which disappeared remarkably quickly…)
- I need to do a better job of communicating that there is always room for dessert on Thanksgiving. Always. I was eating pie for days.
