Thanksgiving is hands down my favorite holiday. I think there are a few reasons this is so, the main one being the nostalgia I feel for my family’s traditional trek up to New Hampshire for the big day. As you are well aware by now, nothing brings me more peace than the splendor of New England, and spending it with family in late November as the seasons are about to switch gears is nothing short of fantastic. That, and I love holidays that include football, parades, stuffing, pie, and lots and lots of wine. No gifts needed-just give me dinner rolls, butter, and good company. Seriously.
Unfortunately, I could not make it home for Thanksgiving this year, and even though the tradition of traveling up to New Hampshire has no longer been an annual event, I was of course melancholy that I couldn’t spend it with my family in New York. Even so, I knew I wasn’t just going to let the holiday go un-celebrated, so I decided to throw a feast at my house with the rest of my “orphan” friends.
The guests added up to eight: myself and four friends (Martha, Blaire, Michael, and Dan) and my housemate John and two of his (Dennis and Natasha). Martha came over around 11:30, for she was in charge of the turkey. John was around all day (seeing as he does live here..) and others dwindled in as the day progressed. We didn’t end up eating until around eight, but the drinking began around noon. Thus, no one seemed to mind the late dinner.
I woke up around nine that day, and greeted my favorite holiday with a cup of coffee, a warm bowl of oatmeal, and (what I thought was) the Manhattan Thanksgiving Day parade. I was watching the festivities with Dalton when he remarked “isn’t is strange that the DC local news is covering the Philadelphia Turkey Parade?” I responded, “uh..yeah, really weird. Let’s just watch the NY one,” and quickly changed the channel. My bad.
When Martha came over, we unraveled the poor, naked turkey, and dutifully dug out the heart, liver, and so forth. We put all the treats in a bowl, and I suggested to John we give it to his dog. He said no. WEIRD. Martha then proceeded to massage the bird with butter, stuff it with parsley, sage, rosemary, thyme, and lemons, and stick the thing in the oven. Seven hours later. BAm! TURKEY.
I was in charge of the biscuits, green bean casserole, stuffing, and roasted sweet potatoes. We also had cranberry sauce, butternut squash soup, and mashed potatoes. Take a look!
John is not one to cook, but he said he had a wonderful recipe for cheesy cauliflower–a side dish made every year in his household. The preparation? Packaged cheddar cheese (melted and mixed with milk and flour) poured over steamed cauliflower. Hey, people ate it!
After dinner, we all suffered from food coma and collapsed in the living room. We sprawled out on the couches and floor, mumbled a little bit, and picked at the apple pie. We cleaned up the kitchen, put all the leftovers away, and called it a night.
Overall, it was a successful holiday shared with good people. Who knows where I’ll be come next Turkey day, but two things are certain: I’ll definitely make John’s cauliflower, and I’ll watch the correct parade on t.v.