Palimpsest
Here's what I didn't eat today:
I did, however, successfully cook a turkey breast, some stuffing, gravy, proper cranberries (generally referred to as "gore"), garlic mashed potatoes, and an apple pie. The Professor and Dan took care of salad and wine and such. It's the first year I've been the one in charge of the kitchen, without assistance from parents and grandparents and other assorted relatives and visitors. It's the first year I've lived somewhere far from where I grew up, unless I count the year I was in Rhode Island. But I was in a dormitory at RISD then, didn't really have much of a life there, and went home for Thanksgiving.
As holidays go, I like Thanksgiving better than many. It seems like a good idea to devote a day to the preparation and consumption of delicious food, and to remind yourself of the things you're lucky to have. We had a toast to days off, and a toast to friends old and new, present and absent.
It's strange to think about what I was doing for this holiday a year ago, or ten years ago. I can see the calendar page as a manuscript, written and scraped clean and written-over again and again. Ten years ago, I had only just met the Professor. Last Thanksgiving was pleasant in some ways, but utterly disorienting and awkward. This year has been wonderful. I'm in a place I like, I've met a lot of amazing people over the last couple of months, and I've had enough practice cooking lately that I think my efforts today were a success.
I gave Dan some of the spare turkey and stuffing and gravy, packed in tin foil and yogurt containers, and felt that I was joining myself to a long, long line of women who have stood in a thousand kitchens and sent their guests home with a thousand variations on leftovers.
And because I did some cleaning this afternoon, along with the cooking, I wanted to make a note of the fact that my counter and small table are cleaner today than they have been since I moved here.
I did, however, successfully cook a turkey breast, some stuffing, gravy, proper cranberries (generally referred to as "gore"), garlic mashed potatoes, and an apple pie. The Professor and Dan took care of salad and wine and such. It's the first year I've been the one in charge of the kitchen, without assistance from parents and grandparents and other assorted relatives and visitors. It's the first year I've lived somewhere far from where I grew up, unless I count the year I was in Rhode Island. But I was in a dormitory at RISD then, didn't really have much of a life there, and went home for Thanksgiving.
As holidays go, I like Thanksgiving better than many. It seems like a good idea to devote a day to the preparation and consumption of delicious food, and to remind yourself of the things you're lucky to have. We had a toast to days off, and a toast to friends old and new, present and absent.
It's strange to think about what I was doing for this holiday a year ago, or ten years ago. I can see the calendar page as a manuscript, written and scraped clean and written-over again and again. Ten years ago, I had only just met the Professor. Last Thanksgiving was pleasant in some ways, but utterly disorienting and awkward. This year has been wonderful. I'm in a place I like, I've met a lot of amazing people over the last couple of months, and I've had enough practice cooking lately that I think my efforts today were a success.
I gave Dan some of the spare turkey and stuffing and gravy, packed in tin foil and yogurt containers, and felt that I was joining myself to a long, long line of women who have stood in a thousand kitchens and sent their guests home with a thousand variations on leftovers.
And because I did some cleaning this afternoon, along with the cooking, I wanted to make a note of the fact that my counter and small table are cleaner today than they have been since I moved here.