I meant to publish this post on Thanksgiving, along with a gorgeous picture of a roast bird. But things happen (namely, gorgeous birds always taking longer than expected, needing to warm five thousand side dishes at the last minute, and frantically applying mascara before guests arrive). So imagine, if you would, a burnished roast! Or better yet, these Parker House rolls. They were stunners. And Happy Holidays! They're not over yet.
"What, ever?!"
"Yes."
"You mean, ever-ever?!!"
"Yes!!"
I'm going to go for broke and say that British people really don't get this holiday. (Based on my sample size of one boyfriend. Look, I'm an English major. I'm going to let the social scientists worry about the ethics of sample sizes.)
Anyways, vacation days didn't work out, flights were expensive, and here I am in San Francisco. I was feeling pretty bummed about it a couple of weeks out. I just really love holiday cooking with my mom. She's really good at doctoring gravy, and not panicking when the Yorkshire puddings that you promised would be "so easy" happen to set off every smoke alarm in the house. Also, she has a generous hand with the Chardonnay. Especially if you're helping out in the kitchen.
So, I was feeling glum, and so, to cheer myself up, I did the obvious, and ordered an 18-pound turkey. Nothing like a massive roasting project to get the old spring back in one's step, right? Then I bought 3 pounds of Brussels sprouts at the farmers' market. The Brussels sprouts dude said, and I quote, "You must really love Brussels sprouts!" Yes. Yes I do.
We have two friends coming over, one of whom is vegetarian. Just thinking about the leftovers makes me a little weak at the knees. It's going to be great. My apartment may be outrageously small, but where there's a will, there's a way.
I also plan to open the first bottle of Chardonnay around noon. What can I say? I learned from the best.
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