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It's not so black, this Friday
Nov. 28th, 2014 11:03 amToday I will be mostly cleaning things, if the kitchen is a thing. And breaking down the turkey.
M'wife has given up on consciousness and gone back to bed. Aww. I shouldn't be at all surprised if she had a cat to keep her company, as I singularly fail to do so. (Of all the losses I lament from my youth, the ability to sleep late and long may actually be the highest on the list. What's with that?)
Lessons learned, or in some cases reiterated: I need to roast more turkeys. I need to practice, so that the big occasions are not each and every time all stress and experiment. The trouble with this, of course - and the reason why we do not do it - is that a turkey is an awful lot of not very much. Still: I want at least to spatchcock one - before next T'Day - in order to find out whether spatchcocking is the way to go.
I need to get better at juggling dishes around the oven, as there is no possibility of adding a second oven. One of the stuffings burned, simply because of where it was. (If I can't have a second oven, I definitely need a bigger one. But that would need a complete kitchen makeover. Which would need a lot of money. Oh bestseller, where art thou...?)
I need to get better at carving (again, practice!), and also at letting other people help. I am properly grateful to Greg for stepping in and taking over, and at the same time resentful that he needed to. I should be able to take a bird apart neatly and efficiently, damn it.
I need to remember the recipe for the leek bread pudding, because that was awesome. Ditto the overnight rye.
I need to have more nibbly bits about, more small eats for mid-afternoon: in part because nibbling is awesome, and in part because not everyone can get through from breakfast to dinner on adrenalin and alcohol.
And I do probably need to acknowledge that I will never actually integrate into this society, because it comes more and more clear as the years go by that actually? I don't really all that much like pie. People brought magnificent pies, and I didn't want more than a taste off Karen's plate. I seldom want a dessert at all these days, apart from a nibble of bitter chocolate; but when I do, if I do, I'd rather have a cake or a pudding (in either definition, British or American). I'm afraid this is dire heresy, here in the Land of Pie, but it really does seem to be the case. Oddly, I'm still fine with savoury pies; it ain't pastry-and-filling per se that sits wrong with me. Just the sweet kind. And I'm probably overthinking this and/or overstating the case, but this morning this is how I feel. Hey-ho.
M'wife has given up on consciousness and gone back to bed. Aww. I shouldn't be at all surprised if she had a cat to keep her company, as I singularly fail to do so. (Of all the losses I lament from my youth, the ability to sleep late and long may actually be the highest on the list. What's with that?)
Lessons learned, or in some cases reiterated: I need to roast more turkeys. I need to practice, so that the big occasions are not each and every time all stress and experiment. The trouble with this, of course - and the reason why we do not do it - is that a turkey is an awful lot of not very much. Still: I want at least to spatchcock one - before next T'Day - in order to find out whether spatchcocking is the way to go.
I need to get better at juggling dishes around the oven, as there is no possibility of adding a second oven. One of the stuffings burned, simply because of where it was. (If I can't have a second oven, I definitely need a bigger one. But that would need a complete kitchen makeover. Which would need a lot of money. Oh bestseller, where art thou...?)
I need to get better at carving (again, practice!), and also at letting other people help. I am properly grateful to Greg for stepping in and taking over, and at the same time resentful that he needed to. I should be able to take a bird apart neatly and efficiently, damn it.
I need to remember the recipe for the leek bread pudding, because that was awesome. Ditto the overnight rye.
I need to have more nibbly bits about, more small eats for mid-afternoon: in part because nibbling is awesome, and in part because not everyone can get through from breakfast to dinner on adrenalin and alcohol.
And I do probably need to acknowledge that I will never actually integrate into this society, because it comes more and more clear as the years go by that actually? I don't really all that much like pie. People brought magnificent pies, and I didn't want more than a taste off Karen's plate. I seldom want a dessert at all these days, apart from a nibble of bitter chocolate; but when I do, if I do, I'd rather have a cake or a pudding (in either definition, British or American). I'm afraid this is dire heresy, here in the Land of Pie, but it really does seem to be the case. Oddly, I'm still fine with savoury pies; it ain't pastry-and-filling per se that sits wrong with me. Just the sweet kind. And I'm probably overthinking this and/or overstating the case, but this morning this is how I feel. Hey-ho.