Thanksgiving!

We had a wonderful Thanksgiving. Me and a couple of my girlfriends put together an ACE Thanksgiving menu. I thought I'd share a couple of the dishes... I only have recipes for the ones that I made, so I'll just give the titles of the things the others made, and you can google them.

I am blessed beyond measure. To be able to share a special day with friends is incredibly important. I am so thankful that we have such good friends and that they are willing to indulge a couple of Americans in their need for tradition. And it doesn't hurt at all that they're good cooks.

I decorated the apartment a little- in my mind's eye it was much grander than it turned out. But I was pretty pleased with the home-made decs. 

 

(that last one is Mike's Opie-dog-turkey)

For starters, we had Jamie Oliver mulled wine. It was incredible.  We followed the recipe pretty closely, although put in a little bit less sugar than the recipe said (mainly because we ran out). It was really beautiful, not too spicy or sweet. It was a really nice warm starting drink. It snowed about 4 inches here, so everyone was coming in from the cold, and it was nice to be able to give them something warm on their arrival.

For meat, we had "turkey a la Minnesota". We couldn't find a whole turkey, that didn't cost a kidney, so we had to make due with a turkey crown. This was PLENTY of food, so it's probably good we didn't have a whole turkey. Basically, I followed Alton Brown's roast turkey recipe and added some sage butter rubbed under the skin. I also used some heather rock salt instead of kosher salt in the brine, which gave it a beautiful smell. And I didn't use any oil for the aromatics. I thought it was too much with the butter under the skin. We also had a lovely French Canadian meat pie called Tortiere, which was really savory and lovely. Finally, we had apple cranberry sausage stuffing. It was a perfect compliment to the meat pie and turkey, because it had a nice sweet flavor.

For sides we had maple butternut squash casserole, sweet potatoes with sugared pecans, a lovely Jamie Oliver salad, rolls, my grandma's mashed potatoes, corn pudding, and whiskey gravy. I only have the recipes for the mashed potatoes, corn pudding, and gravy.

Mashed potatoes:

1 lb potatoes quartered

1/2 heavy cream

milk

salt

pepper

5 tbsp butter

In a large stock pot, boil the potato quarters until they fall apart when pierced with a fork (10ish mins). Drain and transfer to a bowl. Add small cubes of butter, salt, pepper, and the cream and smash (if you don't have an electric mixer) or mix (if you have an electric mixer), add as much or little milk to get it to the consistency you want. More milk is runnier, less is chunkier and stickier. Add more salt, pepper, and butter to taste.

Corn pudding:

Cook's note: this is almost my most favorite christmas/thanksgiving dish ever. It's a Mike's Alabama/Kentucky family special. It's loooovely.

3 Tbs flour
3 Tbs sugar
5 eggs
1/2 C milk
1 14 oz can creamed corn
1 14 oz can whole corn drained
1 C heavy cream
2 Tbs melted butter

In large mixing bowl, combine sugar, flour, salt and pepper to taste.  Gradually whisk in cream.  Add eggs and whisk till smooth.  Stir in milk and all corn.  Drizzle the butter on top.  Bake 350 for 45 min. or till set.  (around 1 hour for me)

Whiskey Gravy:

1/2-3/4 cup whiskey

flour

1/4 cup cream

milk

drippings from the turkey

salt and pepper to taste

Start by making a roux in a small-medium saucepan with the cream and flour. Whisk the flour into the cream over low heat. Whisk in enough flour to thicken the cream. Add in the whiskey- the more you add the stronger the taste. Pour in 5-6 ladles of drippings from the turkey. Whisk in milk and more flour to thicken. For thicker gravy add more flour, for thinner add more milk. Keep over low heat. Add in more drippings or more whiskey to taste.

We would have had pumpkin pie and tartre al sucre (french-canadian sugar pie) but it snowed about 2 inches in an hour, on top of the 5 inches that we already had and everyone needed to get home... it wasn't the perfect end to the dinner, but it was a great meal, great camraderie, great homey feeling all the same. 

It's still pouring snow, so we might be stuck here for the next week. Thankfully we have enough leftovers!

Hope again

I just finished my first triathalon. I am absolutely shattered now. Good shattered (I think), and was actually contemplating doing another, but that was directly after this one finished, so I think I'll blame it on the adrenaline. I was not first, in fact I was absolutely nowhere near even the middle. I wasn't last but was DEFINITELY near the end. But I finished and I am pleased with that.

As I was cycling (which might get a blog post on its own because of the mental struggle I had with it), there was one point where I was on a downhill, finally able to rest my legs for a second. I started to think about the fact that today is the 4th of July, a great celebration back home. I remembered all the times I was with my family on the 4th, at the local YMCA watching the fireworks from the Salem Fair, or the couple of times we watched the fireworks in DC (once on the top of a building, overlooking the mall. Unbeatable.), and the shows we saw in Minnesota... it was a really nice, brief respite from thinking about how I could no longer feel my legs, and at what point should that become a reason for concern. In my mind, I started doing a little baseball announcer-esque pep talk: "aaaanddd here's Parker! she's coming around the bend! she looks exhausted!! but! look at that!! she Just. Keeps. Pedaling!!! wow! she's not stopping, folks! she's going to finish!!!" Had I not been certain that I would've fallen off my bike, I would've given my adoring fans a little wave.

I realised that little glimmer of hope was something akin to what I feel when we watch the World Cup. Not the same exactly, becuase I don't play in the World Cup (yet.), but that feeling of... wait a sec... this could happen! this could actually happen!

We've watched most of the games, and have thoroughly enjoyed them. It's been a great cup to watch, lots of unexpected results (France and Italy out in the first round!??) with the big stars not really making an impact (Rooney, Ronaldo, Messi, etc). When we watched the USA games, I absolutely chewed my fingernails till there was nothing left. I turned into a crazed screaming fan, yelling at the refs, unreasonably criticizing professional players, seeking out my own vuvuzela...

What has struck me, and what I LOVE about the world cup, is how much it brings people together. Sure teams win and teams lose, which is heartbreaking... but this beautiful game is so inspirational to people across the world. I saw this youtube video of Landon Donovan's 92nd minute goal, and it made me so happy, I got teary. It's like in the 91st minute, all these people are just normal people watching the same game at the same time. BUT at 91:45, they are all instant best friends. Hugging, kissing, jumping around like maniacs, comparing USA jerseys and singing the same songs. And it was happening all across the world. Mike and I screamed so loud that our neighbors came to check on us. Of course, it's not just USA fans. The Spain fans were having a coronary last night when David Villa scored his late goal. People screaming and hugging, proudly waving their flags as high as their arms can reach. All of a sudden with just a touch of a little ball into a net, people have a reason to hope and believe that something that they really want, something that the entire world recognizes as a symbol of the highest standard of sporting excellence, is in their grasp. And they cheer, because they believe that THEY can do it.

Hope is such a strong emotion. Just that little bit of hope is... it's addictive... it's like crack. Hope crack. Once you have a little bit of it, you just want, nay NEED, more.  You go looking for it, if you can't get your fix.

So, on this 4th of July, I am thankful for hope, finite distances, the World Cup, and the USA. Now, off to bed.

The Kitchen

 As my best friend Scare astutely pointed out to me a couple of years ago, I get pretty down during the winter months. I am constantly cold in the winter, and all of a sudden when spring comes, I realize that my shoulders have been in my ears because I am constantly bracing against the elements, both physical and emotional. I dive into work, and become highly functional- ie: not engaged, just functional. I never realize that I was sad until spring comes.  Once the thaw starts outside, my interior thaw begins. I realize that I have been putting away lots of things in order to make it through the winter, because I have limited resources, and most of them go towards keeping my head up. This last week I realized that one of those things has been homesickness.

I miss home. I miss things being easy. More than home, I miss my family. I miss those little daily things that make people family... the conversations, inside jokes, hugs, looks.... it seems to me that many of these daily things take place either in preparation for or while eating a meal. More specifically, they take place in the kitchen.

The heart of every home that I've ever lived in has been the kitchen. Not only is it the place with the food (which cannot be underrated) it is also the place of deep conversations over gallons of tea, the place where you open your college acceptance letter, the place where you play 'the magnet game' (2 points for getting the magnet to stick to the freezer part of the refrigerator, 1 point for getting it to stick to the fridge itself, 3 points and an extra turn for getting it to stick on the side), the place where you make enough crap mac to feed a small army after a night out, the site of the dog-bone hockey world championship, the place where you learned that the best way to ensure the family would come over is to make cookies, the site of poker games, the inaugural location of compulsory Friday night happy hour. I love the kitchen.

I have such fond memories of my grandmother's kitchen. Not only was good cooking knowledge passed down, but it was where I got to have her all to myself. As she helped me measure brown sugar, she would always impart some sort of invaluable knowledge: 'Sarah, we are making extra of these for the hospice patients', 'don't worry about measuring it exactly right, it'll be ok' or 'go get your brother, you should do this together'. I remember before Sunday dinners, she would be in there finishing off the gravy, I would be putting ice in the glasses on the table, somebody would be finishing the green beans and bacon... it was the smallest room in the house, yet it seemed to magically enlarge to hold everyone who was cooking, plus everyone who came in. Similarly, I've learned amazing things from my own mother in the kitchen. She taught me to try new recipes, to make sure to take time to sit and have a chat, to eat things that taste good, and then, learn to make them yourself. I always gravitate toward the kitchen when I am visiting people's homes. I suppose it's a sense of a well-being that comes from being in the kitchen. It is easy to have conversations there, easy to listen, easy to connect. Somehow, the kitchen is always warm. 

Whenever I am feeling especially isolated and homesick, I go to the kitchen because this is where I can reconnect with people that I love, even if they don't know I am doing it. Everyone in my family has a specific dish that they excel at from swedish meatballs to brisket to cookies to pie to soup to corn pudding. My best friends love to cook. When I make on of their recipes, I miss them desperately, but I love doing it because I feel that they are right there with me. It is very important to me to say 'this is Jord's polenta recipe' or 'Uncle Mark's chex mix' because it means that this other person is part of that experience.

In almost every house that I've lived in, the most used entrance to the house was through a door directly into the kitchen. A door directly into the heart of the home. I guess ultimately, this is what I miss the most. I miss walking in to my family's homes, straight into their kitchens- into the heart- finding something to eat, and settling in for some real time together.