Thanksgiving Dinner

sFirst, you have to cook it. Emma, who heretofore would like to be known as Jane Austen, was of great help to her mother and I. She peeled potatoes.

She also managed to stir gravy and yams at the same time. She's in college. We're very proud of her. (Except that she's 19 and still hasn't registered to vote. She got an earful about that but has promised to be registered by the next presidential election).

(I had some darling photos of her here but Blogger ate them & won't let me put them back. Blogger's a booger).

Sometimes my multi-talented Mols joined the cooking fun. There was much bursting into song and Audrey Hepburn had to keep shushing us. We get a little enthusiastic when we do show tunes.






















Here's Audrey, giving my yams a taste test. Funny thing about our holiday menu. There are always yams, because it is tradition. Only about 3 of us actually eat them. (They were good this year, though, even though I ended up skipping the homemade marshamallows and doing an orange-balsamic vinegar-maple syrup mash thing. Yum. To the 3 of us that eat them, that is).




















Audrey made a splendid feast although the turkey took longer than she had planned which meant people were getting testy because the meal that was supposed to start at 2 didn't until 3 but my job was to to give her stirring words of encouragement, because even though people were ready for more than black olives and baby corn, one certainly doesn't want to serve undercooked turkey. Audrey held fast and besides, the gravy was taking its own sweet time thickening, despite repeated applications of cornstarch slurry. It was like it knew. And when the gravy magically came to the proper thickness the turkey was ready. And it was delicious. As were her mashed potatoes and dressing (and stuffing) and all the other delectable things that were spread out on our very long table.

Also, my other sister, Martha Stewart, had a plan to make aprons for all the moms but things, like life, got in the way of that project so she just went into her stash of vintage aprons (which number in the 40s...she really is frakking Martha Stewart...I mean, seriously, who do you know that collects vintage aprons?) She chose them according to each woman's style. Mine is a fab 50's retro, black and white graphic thing with a little trim of lavendar on the pockets. I heart my apron so much and I plan on wearing it every day when I do housework. It is super fantastic.














And then, because this was the point of gathering from all four winds, we gathered around the beautifully decorated and laden table, held hands for grace, sang the Doxology in 40 part harmony and tucked in.






Pass that perfectly roasted turkey and gorgeously thick gravy, please.