A place at this table.
A huge network of love and support.
Food glorious food.
My amazing, incredible, beautiful little family.
What are you thankful for?
Well, we made it. I feel a bit as if I’ve just emerged from a food-coma-induced cloud, only to discover that someone filled my fridge with delicious leftovers.
Since this is my third annual Biggest Little Thanksgiving, I thought I had this down. I thought that making a ton of food was making a ton of food; because it is, isn’t it? I failed to take into account two important factors: 1) the size/quantity of the bird(s), and 2) people, and therefore time.
It was a dinner designed around the bird.
And what a bird it was. Fresh from the farm – Free Union Grass Farm, for those in the area, and in the know – and begging to be eaten; plump and chickeny. Just begging me to break my rule and mess with a whole chicken again. (I fooled it – we cooked this one first, and then we cut it up.) This chicken grew up happily in the field next to my parents-in-law’s house, pecking for bugs and clucking in the tall grass. I watched it out there, having the time of its little poultry life. I knew it had a good run (har har har) and was ready to be The Dinner.
Calin wanted to roast a chicken. So when this one showed up on our doorstep one night (carefully in hand and definitely already dead, brought by my aforementioned parents-in-law – I don’t think I could cook a bird who flew to my house and rang the doorbell), he was raring to go. Epicurious provided the basic recipe; YouTube provided the detailed trussing instructions, and we took it from there.
Extravagant Thanksgiving 2011!
Last year, my sister and I cooked the Biggest Little Thanksgiving in her tiny kitchen in Baltimore. We had such a ball that we wanted to do it again this year – but this time, we decided we needed a bit more space. So we told everyone that we were posting up at my house this year, and anyone who wanted to could come by, but we were not going to leave until everything had been cooked and eaten.
This Thanksgiving, for the first time, my sister and I decided to thwart family tradition and strike out on our own. We, and two friends, and three dogs, created our own outrageous feast of astronomical proportions. And considering that we weren’t planning to feed the dogs, the volume of food in the house that day was verging on true madness.
Also madness was our well-intentioned plan to make things we’ve never made before. Fortunately (Thankfully?) the fates were on our side, and nearly everything we tried worked out well. We learned how to halve Cornish Game Hens; I learned how to make a pie crust (which, with a food processor, was a cinch); we discovered that neither of us really like our new green bean casserole recipe, but that it works…; and we failed, as usual, to discover the outer limits of our gastronomic abilities. Clearing your plate (or the table) runs in the family.