Yes, I know, I'm a terrible blogger, and I think I'm going to be crazy busy through Thanksgiving Day, so I can't promise real updates before then.
But, hey, Thanksgiving. Anyone have any horror stories?
My senior year of college four of us stuck around in our rented house and made a pretty good feast. Everything was really good except the sweet potatoes; the two of us who were on sweet potato detail had never prepared them before, and didn't really know what we were doing. I'm pretty sure we didn't cook them long enough before attempting to mash them for serving en casserole; then we realized we had nothing to mash with except a blender. Gamely we gave it a try. Undercooked sweet potato granita, anyone? The consistency was simply awful, and the taste not good enough to make up for it (failure to get appropriate spices at the store, anyone?). The crowning insult: Upon dissassembling the blender for cleaning we found the embossed legend "Not to be used for mashing potatoes." Oh, NOW you tell us. Fortunately we had plenty of other good food, and were able to laugh at the sweet potatoes and only feel a little bad about their going to waste.
Anyone else? C'mon, share.
And if I don't get back to you with a new post before then, happy Thanksgiving!
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4 comments:
Hmmm... I seem to recall someone setting an oven mitt on fire during that memorable meal prep. Beer in one hand, flaming oven mitt on the other.
Anyone?
A number of years ago, my family decided to try a new innovation in turkey basting. I don't quite remember what its official name was (being all of 7 at the time) but I do vividly remember the final result. It did not seem to hurt the turkey at all, but two of our dinner guests in charge of the gravy carefully picked up the bag full of hot juice and about 14 pounds of bird up by its top, positioned the back over a pot, and cut off a lower corner of the bag. With the pressure of a large fowl behind it, the juice shot about 10 feet across the kitchen, missed the pan, and thankfully missed my grandmother. Perhaps one of the more embarrassing Thanksgiving debacles. I don't count roasting a kitchen towel with the bird a few years ago, as no guest found out (other than the slight taste of baked cotton in the gravy).
In 1978 my mother served a HAM for Thanksgiving. She has not yet lived it down. Even our friend who is a vegetarian immigrant still occasionally remarks that she can't believe my mom (one of her best friends) did that.
Sorry my contribution isn't too original... but one year I roasted the giblets inside the turkey (neatly wrapped in their little package, of course). MMmm, mmmm, lip-smackingly appetizing.
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