Holey moley, amigos. I don't understand how those of you with children find the time to do this whole Thanksgiving schtick. (Oh-- potlucks.) I've been running around like a turkey with its hea... nevermind.
Leading into the arena for the final round, let's hear some updates:
The air is thick with excitement! The National Day of Overeating is upon us! Time to celebrate food, family, and count our blessings! So, Sweden...
Why are your grocers not grocing any turkeys?
Oh. I see. You don't annually rejoice over British pilgrims settling in North America.
About a week ago, I began getting nervous about the lack of turkage. I started evilly wringing my hands together whenever pigeons crossed my path. Then, Praise be to Veely's, a new frozen food section suddenly appeared at the store.
All sorts of frozen fowl abounded! We had a choice of duck, goose, turkey, or chicken. For one vengeful moment, I considered getting goose instead of turkey (a large portion of my childhood was spent being terrorized by geese). I went with turkey instead, considering I'm not the sort of person who feasts upon your flesh because a fellow member of your species was cranky. You can all sleep soundly tonight.*
Once we got the bird home, we realized that we needed something to marinate it in.
I spy, with my little eye, something that will hold a turkey. (Yeah, in the cleaning closet, so what?)
Jason washed it, but I'm looking up Sveedish Poison Control tonight just in case.
The bucket didn't exactly fit in our fridge, so:
(The tin foil was just in case there were any cannibalistic crows in Sweden.)
(Two hours later, there were crow prints next to it.)
Also... within the next 15 hours (hopefully 8 of which I'll be sleeping), I need to find something to cook it on. You know, other than the pizza pan.
So, along with fresh cranberries, I grabbed a jar of lingonberry jam to mix in, for some Symbolic Diversity at our table. Much like the original Thanksgiving, yes? We Matthewsers are deep like that.
As I walked home, I daydreamed about my Grandma Jean's fresh cranberry relish. I wish I could give each of you reading this a spoonful of that stuff. It's heavenly. And I was about to make it!
Such an easy recipe, too. Just chop apples and oranges, and mix them with blended cranberries...
...blended? Like with a blender? Ehmm...
I spend the next hour crushing individual cranberries through our garlic press. I have the beginnings of blisters on both hands. My table, hands, and face are splattered with exploded cranberry bits, giving "Ocean Spray" a whole new meaning. Grandma Jean will be so proud.
Amidst mashing yams, crushing berries, brining turkey, logging miles between here and Veely's, baking cornbread, and unplugging the smoke alarm, I did some more Hurricane-Martha-style decorating today.
(i.e. decorating with weeds, empty food containers, food, and clothes.)
(And cheating about $6 to buy some flowers.)
|Please pray for my yellow scarf (aka table runner).|
While we miss everybody very, very much... VERY much... part of me is excited about this opportunity to do Thanksgiving with just us tomorrow. I'm still wrapping my head around the fact that the two of us are a little family of our own now, and it's tackling crazy projects like this that really hit it home.
(But, still... thank Glögg for Skype!)
*I shall get my revenge on the ornery University of Oregon postman another day...**
**In SOME OTHER MANNER, of course.