Thanksgiving is such a family-oriented holiday that I'll bet a lot of people can't imagine spending it alone. I've spent it both ways, and while it's great to be with other people, there are compensations to going solo that you may not have thought of. You can set the menu and have only the things you like; you can decide on the spur of the moment to have dinner in the evening, by candlelight, instead of in the afternoon; and there's no pressure to have everything done properly or on schedule. Someone seemed surprised the other day when I said I always cook on Thanksgiving, rain or shine, but to me that's the only part that's non-negotiable. Thanksgiving is about eating.
My holiday today unfolded in a leisurely way, though the menu was pre-planned and I had already been shopping. I made my pie last night, and again this year, I went with something I haven't had before. I have a recipe for something called "Colonial Innkeeper's Pie" that sounded like it would stand up to a few days in the refrigerator (something you have to think about if you're the only one eating it). It was a little more labor-intensive than just mixing up custard or fruit filling and putting it in a crust, but in a fun way. I was unsure what it would taste like, but any recipe that includes "And then pour chocolate over everything" as one of the final steps is bound to be worth the time.
If I'd thought about it, I would have made a pitcher of iced tea last night, but I got sidetracked by an impromptu oven cleaning session once the pie was baked. No problem. I made cranberry relish this afternoon and then made the tea while the relish was cooling on the stove. I even got a walk in after that, and it was pleasant in a mild, damp sort of way. Not many people out, but there were drifting leaves and birds singing here and there and all those autumn colors. Once I got back, I put the turkey in and started slicing potatoes and getting the other side dishes ready. About halfway through the turkey cooking time, I put the potatoes in the oven so that they and the turkey would be finished at the same time. That's about it except for setting the table and lighting the candles.
By now you're probably asleep, but believe me, if I could make it sound more exciting, I would. I'm sure nobody wants to talk about politics, and I heard that people who were planning family visits were coming up with strategies to avoid such discussions today in light of the contentious election season we've had. I'm with them on that. I neither read nor listened to any news today other than looking at a few headlines a little while ago after getting online. I thought about how to season the turkey, what to add to the dressing, and whether to have lima beans or peas, and that was it. I wasn't in a hurry but had things planned in my mind, and it all turned out well.
Well, you may be wondering, did you at least have any kind of a theme going, since you're a mythologist? The truth is, no, I didn't. I don't even have any Thanksgiving decor to speak of, except for a single glass goblet with autumn leaves on it that I used for my iced tea. I thought about hauling out my ceramic Halloween pumpkin and turning it backwards, but that hardly seemed worth the time; I considered gathering some autumn leaves and putting them in a vase, but it was too damp out. I do cook my turkey in a clay pot that kind of resembles something that might be found in the ruins of Pompeii and adds a slightly incongruous note to a Pilgrim meal, but that's about it. I hauled a small art glass lamp into the kitchen to supplement the candlelight and put on some quiet music, including a CD of medieval banquet music by the Newberry Consort.
You're wondering now about the pie. Well, it was very good, though different from what I was expecting, being more like a cake in a pie crust than a traditional pie. It was unusual and quite delicious--as was everything. I'm not sure if it's really similar to something a colonial innkeeper would have served; I tend to think chocolate may have been a luxury in those days and not something an innkeeper would have used as a matter of course, but I could be wrong. I'm not sure how much my meal resembled something the colonists would have eaten in any respect, but it doesn't matter. Enjoying what you have is what matters.
I did the dishes in stages, am still enjoying some music on the stereo, and have put my leftovers away. Not a single political argument to be had, I didn't have to watch football on TV, and no one offended me by not eating enough. That's it for Thanksgiving on my end, and I wish all you Pilgrims out there a happy holiday, wherever you may be.
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Thursday, November 24, 2016
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Demeter's in the Kitchen, and She Has a Blender
I seem to be preoccupied, in my recent Facebook postings, with food. I think there are several reasons for this. For one, it's winter, and most of us are in hibernation, especially with the kind of deep freeze we've had this year. You can't always hit the sidewalks for a carefree stroll in the sun (especially when they're covered with ice), but you can always put a casserole in or bake some bread.
In just the last month, I've written posts about baking bread and cinnamon rolls, cooking chicken stew with escarole, making marinara and Bechamel sauce for lasagna, fixing Spanish rice, baking chocolate Valentine's cookies, re-creating a ravioli and broccoli dish I had years ago in Somerville, Mass., and trying to figure out how my grandmother made cornbread. Unlike other things that might eat up your day, a well-prepared meal can rarely be considered a waste of time. My only regret is that my circle of college friends, whom I used to enjoy cooking with, is now too far-flung to make group dinners possible.
OK, so it's winter, but I believe there's more to my food-mindedness than that. In addition to my own birthday, both my mother's and my father's birthdays occur in midwinter, so I've naturally been thinking more about the two of them than usual. Inextricably tied up with memories of childhood are memories of foodways and family meals. How I regret not finding out how my mother made certain things, like pancakes and meatloaf! How I wish I could be in my grandmother's kitchen again, eating her fried chicken. How well I remember the taste of a grilled cheese sandwich and Campbell's Tomato Soup, a common childhood lunch. How much fun it would be to prank my dad on his birthday one more time by putting hot pepper in the Jello!
If I were to self-analyze, I'd say that many of my kitchen adventures represent self-mothering, an attempt to take care of myself through culinary means. Gridlock in Washington? That's OK, here's a blueberry smoothie. Emperor has no clothes? Never mind, have some stew. Yet another inane conversation overheard in Starbucks? Time to make biscuits. Snarky relative? There's a recipe for Chicken Piccata around here somewhere.
I can tell that it really is self-nurturing and not self-indulgence by the judiciousness with which I (usually) weigh what I'd like to have with what seems most nutritious. I grew up in the meat and potatoes era, but I've branched out: I'm always looking for new ways to fix vegetables, including some I'm not used to using. I think I shocked some old friends the other day when I announced I making the potato soup I've been making for 30 years with celery instead of leaving it out as I've always done. "But you hate celery!" I heard, almost immediately. It's true, I always did; but then I vacationed in New Orleans, where the food was so divine and sometimes had celery in it, and there was that yummy tuna dill sandwich they used to have at the library that included celery, and so . . . there I was at the grocery store on Tuesday, eyeing celery on sale for $.77 and wondering why the bunches had to be quite so big. (The soup experiment hasn't gone down yet, but I can't imagine it will use more than a couple of stalks, which could mean ants on logs in my near future.)
You may not believe it, but I also have less of a tendency toward snacking and unrestrained dessert foraging than I used to have. That's not to say I've dropped it altogether, but I'll give you an example. I heard about a new type of Ben & Jerry's ice cream yesterday that apparently includes two different flavors in a single pint along with a core of something delectable like raspberry jam or fudge. My most immediate thought was, "Wow, that's extreme!" instead of "I have to see if Kroger has it!" (I will have to see if Kroger has it, but it wasn't my very first thought. See what I mean?)
So I can't, at the moment, do anything about unemployment, political intransigence, ignorance, incivility, dishonesty, or the rampant failure of so many schools to teach information literacy, but I can at least try to feed myself, which is saying a lot in a world where way too many people still go to bed hungry. We could all use an infusion of Demeter, which is probably why I'm so preoccupied with her. When I think about my parents, I think they'd be pleased that I invested the money a couple of years ago in all the kitchen basics I'd never bothered with before. Fake it till you make it, I can hear them saying. Fake it till you make it. And by the way, your biscuits are better than they used to be.
In just the last month, I've written posts about baking bread and cinnamon rolls, cooking chicken stew with escarole, making marinara and Bechamel sauce for lasagna, fixing Spanish rice, baking chocolate Valentine's cookies, re-creating a ravioli and broccoli dish I had years ago in Somerville, Mass., and trying to figure out how my grandmother made cornbread. Unlike other things that might eat up your day, a well-prepared meal can rarely be considered a waste of time. My only regret is that my circle of college friends, whom I used to enjoy cooking with, is now too far-flung to make group dinners possible.
OK, so it's winter, but I believe there's more to my food-mindedness than that. In addition to my own birthday, both my mother's and my father's birthdays occur in midwinter, so I've naturally been thinking more about the two of them than usual. Inextricably tied up with memories of childhood are memories of foodways and family meals. How I regret not finding out how my mother made certain things, like pancakes and meatloaf! How I wish I could be in my grandmother's kitchen again, eating her fried chicken. How well I remember the taste of a grilled cheese sandwich and Campbell's Tomato Soup, a common childhood lunch. How much fun it would be to prank my dad on his birthday one more time by putting hot pepper in the Jello!
If I were to self-analyze, I'd say that many of my kitchen adventures represent self-mothering, an attempt to take care of myself through culinary means. Gridlock in Washington? That's OK, here's a blueberry smoothie. Emperor has no clothes? Never mind, have some stew. Yet another inane conversation overheard in Starbucks? Time to make biscuits. Snarky relative? There's a recipe for Chicken Piccata around here somewhere.
I can tell that it really is self-nurturing and not self-indulgence by the judiciousness with which I (usually) weigh what I'd like to have with what seems most nutritious. I grew up in the meat and potatoes era, but I've branched out: I'm always looking for new ways to fix vegetables, including some I'm not used to using. I think I shocked some old friends the other day when I announced I making the potato soup I've been making for 30 years with celery instead of leaving it out as I've always done. "But you hate celery!" I heard, almost immediately. It's true, I always did; but then I vacationed in New Orleans, where the food was so divine and sometimes had celery in it, and there was that yummy tuna dill sandwich they used to have at the library that included celery, and so . . . there I was at the grocery store on Tuesday, eyeing celery on sale for $.77 and wondering why the bunches had to be quite so big. (The soup experiment hasn't gone down yet, but I can't imagine it will use more than a couple of stalks, which could mean ants on logs in my near future.)
You may not believe it, but I also have less of a tendency toward snacking and unrestrained dessert foraging than I used to have. That's not to say I've dropped it altogether, but I'll give you an example. I heard about a new type of Ben & Jerry's ice cream yesterday that apparently includes two different flavors in a single pint along with a core of something delectable like raspberry jam or fudge. My most immediate thought was, "Wow, that's extreme!" instead of "I have to see if Kroger has it!" (I will have to see if Kroger has it, but it wasn't my very first thought. See what I mean?)
So I can't, at the moment, do anything about unemployment, political intransigence, ignorance, incivility, dishonesty, or the rampant failure of so many schools to teach information literacy, but I can at least try to feed myself, which is saying a lot in a world where way too many people still go to bed hungry. We could all use an infusion of Demeter, which is probably why I'm so preoccupied with her. When I think about my parents, I think they'd be pleased that I invested the money a couple of years ago in all the kitchen basics I'd never bothered with before. Fake it till you make it, I can hear them saying. Fake it till you make it. And by the way, your biscuits are better than they used to be.
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