It’s a strange thing but here I am, sitting here shortly after midday on a perfectly ordinary Friday with the sound of a newly recovered Graham laying smoothing plaster over the living-room floor, Dolly doing mega-cat things in the kitchen, the workmen on the building project next door doing noisy builder things, and do you know what I’m doing?
Fancying a good Thanksgiving blow-out, that’s what I’m doing. I want turkey, slow roasted, with red-currant jelly (sorry, you can keep your nasty sour cranberries), thick, rich gravy, and bread sauce the way my mother used to make it. Potatoes, mashed, roast and sweet. Carrot and swede mash. Roast parsnip. Brussels sprouts. Cabbage greens. And a pint of good old-fashioned Guinness to wash it down. And several varieties of cake, pie and ice-cream to follow during a long, food-laden afternoon.
It’s not fair. It’s not as if I’ve ever attended a Thanksgiving feast in real life; we don’t do Thanksgiving here in the UK, though I’m beginning to think that if we can make merry with ‘Halloween’, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t import a more munchy festival.
Ah well. I have brocolli and stilton soup for lunch, with half a very small baguette. I shall close my eyes afterward, and think of roast turkey with all the trimmings. Perhaps next year.
At least I shall not suffer from an over-loaded digestive system.
Back in reality, Graham has made a splendid recovery but has, typically, over-done it this morning [he won't be told] and will need a long afternoon nap. Dolly has just finished moaning and mumbling over her lunch and will shortly be off for her long afternoon nap.
Me, I’m day-dreaming of a Thanksgiving feast, and shall probably be off myself in a little while, pursuing my own long afternoon nap. That’s a whole lot of sleepin’ goin’ on.
Missed my nap yesterday. Well the day before too.
Our idea of purchasing the fully cooked dinner didn’t really lighten the kitchen load.
Thanksgiving used to be our unspoiled holiday where only gluttony and family were celebrated. But the shopping madness has crept up and made it unseemly with Black Friday creeping into Thursday. Oh, well I’m off to partake in ample leftovers of turkey and many sides.
Lots of overeating here. Double pie and whipped cream….I confess. I was full at the end, but moderation in all the rest of it allowed me to walk after dinner. Laugh too.
Why not do your Thanksgiving gluttony in stages: Roast turkey breast one day with a nice salad and fruit. That sort of stage. Not as satisfying, but fun.
Healing sleep. Yes, that’s the best thing, after bouts with the wobblies as well as after bouts with an over-abundance of comfort food. Maggie has a great idea — Thanksgiving goodies on the installment plan. And naps. Never skimp on the naps.
Oh how I wish I could send you over a real Thanksgiving dinner! And really, the cranberries aren’t sour if you fix them right.
I had a lovely time yesterday, spending the morning fixing the feast and then, in the afternoon, after the company had all left, eating a small piece of apple pie and then– a nap.
I agree with the others. Never skimp on the naps!
cranberries are another of the food items (like oysters) that makes me wonder what possessed the first human to eat them. At 68 cranberry sauce still sets my teeth on edge.
‘Twoodn’t be Graham if he didn’t over-do the work on his first day out of bed! Naps all round are a good idea on any day of the week.
I will confess to a nostalgic craving for good, home-made cranberry sauce (NOT canned, because it tastes ‘tinny’). ‘Twas the craving for vitamin C, Wayne, same as the craving that prompted making tea from spruce twigs. I will content myself with the last of a gift-bag of ripe persimmons, juicy and sweet.
Well, if you and Graham ever find yourselves in Rhode Island at Thanksgiving time, you are certainly welcome to join us in our feasting.