November 27, 2011
Thanksgiving on a Card Table
Although my cooking generally teeters on the edge of barely edible mush laced with cayenne pepper, I stubbornly resigned to cook the entire meal: turkey, trimmings and pumpkin pie. I recruited Grandma Moore's recipes, lots of advice, and lots of butter.
My boyfriend did the grunt work on the mashed potatoes and the dressing, and I implanted butter under the turkey's skin, baked the pies, and made green bean casserole. We declared the feast a victory over small kitchen, inadequate utensils and general lack of experience in feast-cooking.
The card table in my living room has a weight limit that was thoroughly tested by our spread of food enough for 7-10 adults (we were only two). In a symbolic joining of Thanksgiving and Flagstaff, my steel water bottle was a testament to saving the environment; unning the dishwasher twice in one day, on the other hand, was a nod to America, the land of "infinite" natural resources.
My boyfriend and I agreed that Thanksgiving didn't feel like the real thing without our families, but that we liked the turkey and pumpkin pie just fine anyway. I suppose this Thanksgiving marks some newfound independence or culinary conquest, but I'm still looking forward to spending Christmas in Lincoln. I'm not a grown-up yet.