thanksgiving menu, with some shouting
Yummiest Turkey Day ever. We stuffed a Diestel bird with sourdough and Jeremy’s homemade wholewheat bread and mushrooms and parsley and rosemary and thyme. We stuffed a butternut squash with orzo and almonds and golden raisins. There were roast potatoes and mashed potatoes and green beans in peanut oil and soy and Jeremy’s Bernal spheres and cranberry sauce and champagne gravy.
It was great.
Afterwards we sat around and watched Gangs of New York (which is, regrettably, Not Very Good) and ate Salome’s pumpkin pie and an apple and cranberry pie from Liberty Cafe (Very Good). Then we ate leftovers and watched The Office. It was the laziest, most scrumptious Thanksgiving ever.
Today has been virtuous by contrast. We were up at the crack of ten and breakfasted and out of the house no later than twelve. Claire went on the carousel at GG Park and blicketed grandly across the playground. She fell asleep coming home, so while she napped I stripped off all the upholstery to wash it and scrubbed down the tiles on the terrace so that they can be sealed. Owning your own place is like nesting, in that you find yourself doing things you would NEVER EVER HAVE DREAMED of doing before you bought or got preg.
I scrubbed the GROUT, people. FEAR ME.
For dinner Jeremy’s making a sort of shepherd’s (poulterer’s?) pie. It smells wonderful. And I folded all the laundry using the super-secret Japanese technique for folding t-shirts. I am a woman possessed.
The coolest thing about Thanksgiving, though, is that we’ve had two days off already, AND THERE ARE STILL TWO DAYS TO GO.
