The day has ended and I can finally have my own private Thanksgiving. Nothing went wrong. Absolutely nothing. Didn’t drop anything, burn anything, undercook anything or have to call the fire department.
As far as I know, no one has been admitted to the hospital for food poisoning, but the night is young.
B roasted the most beautiful turkey I’ve ever seen. Tastiest, too.
It’s been the perfect Thanksgiving – good food, great company -and I’m feeling pretty cocky. Already planning Christmas dinner – thinking standing rib roast with the little paper feet and Yorkshire pudding. Ah.
My radical departure from my tired old traditional recipes was a hit…especially my fillets mignyams. My cornbread dressing baked in muffin tins were wonderful and not dry as I feared. I was hoping there would be a few left to take with me to Nashville tomorrow when I’ll do another family Thanksgiving. The pineapple bread pudding was a nice complement to the Honey Baked Ham, and the cranberry sandwiches were delightful and lapped right up!
Where are the men? In front of the TV of course.
I must move the television set into the dining room.
I must compliment the turkey cooker – my son Braddock. I requested that he roast it upside down the way Martha Stewart specified, but he was afraid it would have flat breasts. Isn’t that just like a man!? Instead, he roasted it, stuffed with apples, rosemary, onion and garlic. Let me tell you, it was good enough to go on the food network.
My nieces, Leslie and Marty, are holding me up so I don’t fall down. I need a nap!