I spent most of yesterday morning prepping food for Thursday. We’re hauling part of our Thanksgiving feast to another location and I’m not sure what my kitchen situation is going to look like so I’m trying to get as much done ahead as possible.
We’re sharing our holiday this year with special
close, dear, would give my right arm for friends and we’d planned on having a stripped down, low-key event ( paper plates, a deli rotisserie chicken and some Bob Evans mashed potatoes fresh from the grocer’s refrigerated section all while sitting cross-legged on the floor wearing our stretchy pants) and that was all well and good until Craig started hyperventilating. For the record, he had originally stated that he’d be happy just munching on a deli turkey sandwich but as we’ve moved increasingly closer to the day, his idea of low-key has expanded.
A few weeks ago we moved from rotisserie chicken to smoked turkey.
Two pans, please, so there will be leftovers.
Then last week he started making rumblings about maybe it would be nice if we had some sweet potatoes with the pecan and brown sugar topping.
By Sunday, he was looking through the pantry to make sure we had the makings for green bean casserole and tossing the house for paper and pen with which to make my shopping list. “Spring for the name brand fried onions,” he declared. “Thanksgiving comes but once a year.”
On Monday morning, he called me from his business trip to Charlotte to see if I could make a chocolate pie. Oh, and maybe a pumpkin one, too. Because even though he doesn’t particularly care for pumpkin pie, he likes to have a bite just to complete the holiday. I’m thinking by the time he comes home this afternoon he’s going to add roasted chestnuts and Baked Alaska.
I’m also thinking it might be time to just say we’ll save that for Christmas.
Have a nice day.