Help...I'm Making Thanksgiving Dinner

OK, the title of this is maybe misleading. I'm totally not doing that. I can. I have, but it is my mom's job. She has told me many, many, many times, with no irony or sarcasm at all, that it is by far her favorite meal to make.

Because of that, I steer clear for the most part. I help her in the kitchen and I bring a dish or two, but it is her shebang. I don't really put much thought into it beyond what I'm going to bring whereas she is probably already working on the menu, making shopping and to do lists, etc.

I'm glad mom loves Thanksgiving so much. I actually don't. Call me un-American (well, not really, please), but I don't really like turkey all that much. Fruit pies are a waste of perfectly good pie crust. Sweet potatoes gross me out. Cranberry sauce seems pointless. Etc, etc. Bah! Humbug! To me, Thanksgiving is the green light for Christmas decor, carols, and sweaters. (And, obviously being thankful for the plenty that fills our lives in the form of family, friends, shelter, stuff.)

When I got a book from Goodreads Advance Readers (mentioned here) that was about preparing Thanksgiving, I wasn't as super stoked as I would have been if it had been a different cookbook to add to my collection. The book sat on my coffee table for a few days. Grudgingly I picked it up thinking that I would  flip through to find a side dish recipe inside and I'd do nothing more with it. (I do have to think about these things early because mummy dearest needs to know what I'm bringing so she can maintain up-to-date lists.)

I read it cover to cover. And liked it. I wanted it to be longer. (It is a skinny little thing; only 160 pages in length.) It isn't every day that I find a cookbook writer who can, well, write. Sam Sifton can write. He's got culinary and literary chops! He wrote (and edited!) for the New York Times. Did you know the New York Times had (still has?!?) a Thanksgiving dinner help desk website set up for harried, stressed Thanksgiving chefs at home? I had no idea. That desk was manned by our author for three years! That'll get you some turkey day street cred. I chuckled when I read about the help desk. I had visions of frantic questions about burnt crusts and unthawed turkey. I wonder who makes these posts. Not my mom. She's cool as a cucumber in the kitchen.

Sifton makes it clear from the start that he believes that this one meal out of the other 364 days of meals needs to be traditional. And so, his little manual takes the reader through a very traditional approach.

Butter. In this book, glorious butter is a NECESSITY. As it should be every day. Pie crusts should be homemade. Salad, he belabors at least four times, do not belong anywhere near Thanksgiving. Appetizers. No, no, no, no. Just no. Unless, said appetizers are oysters. Then yes.

See, I didn't know about these rules. I might have actually brought salad to Thanksgiving last year. (Never again Mr. Sifton. I promise.)

There is nothing new about this book. It is not full of experimental, trendy recipes for the holiday. Instead it is full of traditional, tried-and-true dishes that absolutely belong on the dinner table. Chapter two is entitled "The Turkey" and it is a comprehensive chapter on thawing, seasoning/brining, cooking (including grilling and frying), carving and serving the centerpiece of the meal. There's not just one recommended approach, but an entire chapter. I like that.

There is a chapter on table setting, serving, and etiquette (chapter five) that is just lovely. This chapter calls to mind the Norman Rockwell painting with the family seated at the table with dishes served family style. Paper and plastic, Sifton says, are abominations of tradition. Thank you. (And thank you mom for always making Thanksgiving an occasion for china and silver, even if I had to polish and then hand-wash.)

I could go one about all eight of the chapters, but I won't. I will, though, mention that chapter six, "Drinks & Drinking" encourages drinking. Thanksgiving is, after all, a celebration. While Sifton doesn't encourage getting blitzed and belligerent, he does remind the reader that the meal is a long one, part of a long day of preparation and digestion. Drink, he says. Be merry. Wine, should flow in abundance. A bottle per person? Absolutely not unrealistic! Imbibing while cooking. Go for it. (With moderation, obviously.) This is not an uptight book, is my point.

Sifton is not unclear about his expectations of this holiday meal. He delivers these expectations in a wonderfully cheeky and conversational way. I'm a nerd about tone. Cookbooks, as a rule, seem to be stuffy and without any sort of discernible--or at least enjoyable--tone. This one though, breaks that rule. (As a note, I'm not positive I can actually classify this a cookbook, though. It is hard to classify. It has recipes, but they are not the bulk.)

In his introduction, Sifton says the following: "Thanksgiving is likewise not a book for those interested in cutting corners. Shortcuts are anathema to Thanksgiving, which is a holiday that celebrates not just our bounty but also our slow, careful preparation of it. There is no room in Thanksgiving for the false wisdom of compromise--for ways to celebrate the holiday without cooking, or by cranking open cans of gravy to pour over a store-roasted turkey reheated in the microwave. Thanksgiving is no place for irony. We are simply going to cook."

Did you ever imagine lovely prose about Thanksgiving? I would have thought it impossible. Sifton makes the impossible possible. And natural. He is poetic at times, funny at others, clear and articulate. This book was an absolute joy to read.

Another reason I'm not sure it is fully a cookbook is its lack of glossy photos. Instead, the book has beautifully sketched drawings and diagrams (like a properly set table) by Sarah Rutherford. These drawings are the perfect accompaniment to the text. Glossy photos of a glistening turkey and laughing people around a perfectly set table are just too cliche for this book.


Lacking any nod toward cliche are these drawings. Chapter one opens with this one.

 

Beautiful. Understated. Traditional. Just like the book.

 

Whether this is your first time preparing the Thanksgiving meal, or your 30th, I recommend Thanksgiving: How to Cook It Well to get you thinking about the meal that is (happily/terrifyingly/ ominously?) looming this month.

 

Mr. Sifton, I'm now officially excited about Thanksgiving this year!

 

Are you making Thanksgiving dinner? Do you believe in Sifton's steadfast rules of no salad, set the table, eat Turkey, etc.? Does anyone out there shuck oysters on Thanksgiving? Am I missing something?

Lions Don't Roar, They Drool

In our 'hood, Halloween ain't no joke. (Nor is grammar, so I'll stop with that.) For the past four years our neighbors have hosted a block/neighborhood party in our front yard. It is expected that adults, especially parents, dress up as well as the abundant supply of neighborhood children.

I didn't know that and last year I rushed home from work, threw on sweats and tossed together something for the potluck. Boy did I feel silly showing up as (gasp) myself.

This year I knew that I'd need to dress up. (Beau, sadly, missed the festivities because of that pesky job.) I'm not sure I would have dressed up for Little Man's first Halloween had it not been for the party.

Because I've grown out of costumes.

I'm not very creative.

I'm not very outgoing.

But, none of that matters. We were going to the block party and I was not going to face ridicule, or be thought to be unfestive. Oh, no.

I'm so, so, so glad this party forced me to step out of my comfortable zone (and sweats) and dress up this year.

About a month ago Beau and I got Little Man a costume at Costco. You know, where everyone gets costumes. Oh, wait, is that just us?

Anyway, we got him this sweet fleece lion costume.

Even though I call him my monkey, this costume felt perfect for two reasons: 1)When Little Man was a newborn, Beau would growl into his neck, nuzzle him and tell him that if they were lions in the jungle he'd learn his dad's growl this way. (I have no idea if that's true or not, but it was easily one of the cutest things I've ever seen.) and 2) I call him my Little Man and often Mumford and Sons' song "Little Lion Man"  gets stuck in my head because of it. (No, it isn't the most child appropriate song, but its not like I sing it to him...)

I could have gotten creative and made something, but lets be real. We're talking about me. The Costco lion was perfect. (It is actually a Carter's brand costume if it looks familiar to those who frequent that retail establishment.)

I knew I wanted to do a family themed thing and since I'd decided on Little Man's costume, I had to figure out what we could be. My first thought was a lion, a witch, and a wardrobe, but as soon as we knew Beau wasn't going to make it that one was out the window. (I'm guessing people would just say, "oh, look, Amy's a witch and Carter is the cutest little lion ever." Instead of, "Hey, I get it. A lion and a witch. Narnia!") Instead, I decided I'd be a lion tamer.

I went to the local costume shop and got a felt top hat, white gloves, and bull whip. Then I went to the nearby consignment shop for a red blazer. (Which was marked down to $4 from $7 just seconds before I spotted it! Sweeeeet!) I put on black boots and black leggings, belted the blazer with a big belt I already owned, accessorized with my costume shop goodies and voila!

 

My guy looks a little scared. He's not. We drove over to see our dear friends Auntie Meagan and Uncle Andy and I had to wake Little Man up when we got there. In these two pictures he's just waking up.

 

Don't worry, he's quick to smile, though.

 

Thank goodness Andy and Meagan had the camera handy. These pictures make me so happy. I'm so glad we got some good ones that aren't just snapped from my phone. (I know that kind of comes off as another camera hint for Beau. It was totally unintentional. But if you're reading this, sweetie...)

 

Little Man got his first trick or treated candy at this stop. (Our only one for the night. And don't worry, I tested the candy. It was good. Sorry, Little Man. Maybe next year you'll get more than one piece. And have teeth. And be eating solid foods...)

 

He also got to learn a lesson from Uncle Andy.

 

 

I'm pretty sure they are having a conversation about the best way to get the most candy possible. That's what Uncle Andy's for. Halloween is, after all, his holiday. (He makes a pretty awesome Wolverine when he's got his hand-claw things on...)

 

The break in the nap made Little Man a little cranky, and we didn't get a picture with Auntie Meagan. She was a cowgirl with a sheriff's badge on her hat. Maybe Uncle Andy's actually telling Little Man that the lady is always the boss, badge or no. That's be a good lesson, uncle.

 

After our short visit we came back to our party and visited for a little while. Unfortunately when you are a baby on Halloween there's no staying up past bed time, so lion and lion tamer came inside to get ready for bed. Our final nursing session was set to the music of children running around the front yard (no longer a lake!) letting out sugar induced shrieks.

 

It was a good night for all of us.

 

Any other fierce animals in in the mix at your house? Cool themed families that I can steal ideas from for next year? Any moms bite the bullet and dress up too?





Monday Update: Sandy Packs a Mean Punch

Well, if you watched (are watching) the weather as closely as us, you know that Sandy didn't hit us directly here in South Eastern Virginia. Instead she chose to skirt us and make landfall in New Jersey. (Which I can't type without saying "Joisey" to myself...) Thankfully these rough winds we are experiencing now weren't happening at high tide. Instead, we got a much gentler two pronged attack. This is what home looked like this morning:

Not so bad, right? Six inches of water up to the back stairs and some water in your lawn. Whatever, Amy. Easy- peasy.

It could have been worse. The first picture is of our back yard at about 8:30 this morning. About 45 minutes later the water crept in a bit more to look like this:

And see, we don't live on the water. At least not normally.

That water on the other side of the fence is a flooded road. Still before high tide.

 

It gets a little scarier when we go to the front door.

 



Notice how the water comes up over the front step. Then, if you look a bit further you can see that there is no delineation from stair to walkway to yard to sidewalk to road. It is all one large lake.

In our intersection alone there were at least two vehicular casualties. (Yes, two people drove through standing water in an intersection they don't know in the hopes of making it through.

They didn't.

Sigh.

Advice: Don't do that.

The poor Caddie in the picture below has temporary -as in this car was just purchased- tags on it. The driver side window was down all night, too. (I imagine because the water fried the circuits before he could get the window up.) I sure do hope he insured his car the day he bought it. Some people forget to do that, you know?



While we are fortunate here in our neck of the woods, I know that much of the rest of the East Coast is bracing for a rough night. The roughest patch of this has passed us here, but the wind is still howling and the rain is still falling. It still sounds scary here and I know it must be much scarier nearer the eye. These pictures and the weather we are experiencing are nothing, and frankly, I know that we are very lucky to just have had to deal with this.

I'm praying for the safety and comfort of those who are being hit now.

How did you manage, dear readers? Please do share.

Dear Sandy

Dear Sandy,

Your name makes me want to sing "Sand---y, Sandy baaay-be". But in all honesty, I don't like you. You scare me a little. You've been dubbed "Frankenstorm" and the news outlets have discussed the conditions being perfect for a "perfect storm" situation. I saw that movie and it didn't end well.

We're tracking you.

Ok, yes, that isn't The Weather Channel, it's the stock market. The boys are tracking that, too. Little Man is giving dad advice and it seemed too cute to not include. But I assure you, we're watching you just as closely, Sandy.

We're on alert.

Anyway, I'm usually quite hospitable, but not this week. Find somewhere else to play. See, we flood. (Don't believe me? Here's proof.) This week our neighborhood is having our annual neighborhood Halloween party on our yard and it won't be as fun if it is soggy. Little Man is going to be a lion. A LION. Yes, Sandy, that's going to be amazingly cute. Please let that happen. More importantly, I don't like the idea of  the creepy crawl space being flooded and all of our ductwork being replaced. Again.

(Photos quite obviously stolen from The Weather Channel)

I'm not asking you to hit higher up the coast. That would be mean. We have family from D.C. to Cape Cod, so I'm thinking maybe you could just veer right. Consider it. We'll call you baby and sing you a song...

Thanks for your consideration.
Amy

P.S. if you decide to visit, during a full moon, and rendezvous with that arctic blast, then we're ready. I've got cookies, candy corn, and an abundance of wine. No, that's not an invitation, just notice that we are prepped and ready.

Travels with Carter

Thank you, John Steinbeck for giving me a cool title to play with for this post...

Anyway, enough shout-outs to dead authors, lets get to the goods! Over the past two weeks our Little Man has been a traveling fool. He was in three (three!!) different states (not counting home, so I guess technically that's four), flew on an airplane, saw two different sets of grandparents and two aunts, laughed like a fool at his sweet cousin, went to an aquarium, visited an Ivy League school, Dad's alma mater, and hung out at the beach. Whew.

Little Man has had quite a few cool life experiences packed into his almost five short months. (How is he almost five months old?!?)

More in depth posts of our adventures are coming, but here are a few highlights:

While on Cape Cod (Massachusetts= state one), Carter got to spend some time with Beau's family. One crisp morning, Beau, Grammy, Little Man and I walked to the beach. Grammy and I look windblown and happy, and if you can see the little nugget nestled in his sling, you can see he's out for the count. That's a sure sign that he's enjoying himself.

That or his newly found ability to giggle. Adorable.

 

While in the second state of the fortnight (North Carolina), Little Man stayed at the bottom of the Currituck lighthouse with Grandma, but mom, dad, and Pop Pop climbed up this beast. Can you believe what a spectacular day it was? There is zero photoshopping done to the above photo! And it was taken on an iPhone, not a DSLR! The day was just plain perfect!

 

 

Also in North Carolina, Little Man gets his snuggle on with his Pop Pop. They were watching football together. I think getting into the football zone is embedded in the male genetic code. He just stared at the game in awe. It was super cute. (Even if TV before the age of two rots a baby's brain. I figured a few minutes of man time with Pop would be well worth any potential rot.)

 

Oh, and this blurry fog was also taken on my iPhone, lest Beau think I don't need a new camera because of the lovely lighthouse photo. Ahem. Christmas.

 

What? 

Did you hear something?

Odd.

Anyway, back to our travels.

While Little Man's arms were too short to reach into the petting pool, he watched these rays and horseshoe crabs intently at the NC Aquarium on Roanoke Island. I think I overheard him mumble something about marine biology or scuba when we were looking at the shark tank.

While on Roanoke Island, we also visited the Lost Colony.

It is still lost, BTW.

How did we visit it, then?

Trickery on the part of the National Parks System.

There's a park where the Lost Colony might have been. Minor detail. It was an interesting place, and worth the visit even if the settlement really did just seem to vanish.

State three was New Hampshire where we visited a museum, college, state park and ogled the lovely fall foliage. Here, my two guys are at the top of a windy hill looking for raptors.

We didn't see any. I was glad. I had visions of a huge bird swooping down with giant wingspan spread, talons out, snatching my sweet baby.

That look on Beau's face? He's probably realizing he married a complete dork who thinks hawks snatch human babies on a regular basis. Poor guy.

So tell me, what kind of person are you? Beachy or mountainy? Which of our destinations would have floated your boat?

How to Eat a Cupcake

In the chaos of giving birth (and here and here), I completely forgot that I wanted to share the revelations of the cupcake geniuses (my adorable yearbook girls) who threw me a shower the week before-- until I saw this article on Bon Appetit's website.

You know you've always wondered how to eat a cupcake without getting a nose full of frosting, or to ensure a proper cake to frosting ratio?

Here is the genius: tear off the bottom half of the cupcake and squash it into the frosting.

Absolutely life changing.

You think I'm hyperbolizing. Or worse, kidding entirely.

Not at all. Try it. Your life will change. For the better.

And did you know hyperbolizing is a real word?? I didn't have a clue. I thought I was bastardizing the English language again.

I digress. I love the picture up there. If you ignore the cuteness of my yearbook girls loving on Baby "Pedro" and look at the cupcake in the photo, you'll notice the brilliant tactic described above being employed.

Now go back to the cuteness.

I love those girls.

Not only do they know how to eat a cupcake, throw a shower, and make some darn great yearbooks, but they are also fantastic, beautiful, and incredibly intelligent ladies.

What's not to love?

What do you think of the cupcake strategy? Perfection perfected? Go ahead, go get some cakes and give it a whirl.

Gratuitous Baby Shot

Hello friends.

Sorry I've been MIA for almost a week. Beau, Little Man and I took a little vacation north. I've got fun things to say about our adventures, but I thought I'd pop in to say hello and show you what the Cutest Baby on Earth wears in New England in October.

Can you even handle all that cuteness? I can't.

Grammy got him a Black Dog fleece for my baby shower and I thought it was cute. Then we put it on him. Cute doesn't even begin to describe it. Ridiculous, really.

I've had two awesome black dogs who look a little like the sweet, protective dog on the fleece in my life and, frankly, there is nothing better than a loving Black Lab in a person's life. (I keep telling Beau we need a dog, but he's wise enough to tell me I'm crazy...) Instead, Little Man gets to cozy up with a graying, docile Black Lab and I don't have to walk him or clean up doggy doo.

Aside from the cuteness factor and warmth, I also love that he's wearing a little piece of Cape Cod. Beau's roots are there (shhh, don't tell anyone) and Little Man has got family that loves him very much in that neck of the woods. It's like he's getting a hug from them every time he wears it. Plus, he's the only baby on the block rockin' the original, regional brand.

See, he's loving this "hug". (He's giggling!!!)

What do you think of gratuitous baby shots? Want more? How about those items/products that you can only get in certain places (ignore online ordering capabilities, obvs.)? What rocks your socks?