Oh my god I am FULL. Thanksgiving was two nights ago, and I still feel like much like I did when I wore that awful, too-tight dress to my brother's wedding.
Which is to say, stuffed. (Minus the really bad hairdo the hair and make up person inflicted on me, at least. At least that.)
The food was okay, in parts quite good. I did, however, forget the turkey in the oven just long enough for it to dry out a bit. So much for my track record of moist turkeys. Menu is below, and recipes for anyone who wants, but let's talk about something really interesting:
what did the Toddles eat this weekend?
Geez, Louise, the kid ate all kinds of things, so long as they weren't being served to other people. (No mass production for our boy, no sirree.) He ate:
rice crackers with sunflower seed butter
a massive quantity of green beans
a dribble of whole milk.
O yes, and lots and lots of mama milk.
Part of me is impressed. Much of these foods is new to him, and it's lovely to see him branching out. Part of me is appalled that now, when berries and melon are ruinously expensive, he's fallen in love. Oy. But no turkey, no stuffing, no sweet potato streusel... Of course, he does have a painful swollen bit inside his mouth, since he banged his mouth into one of his two lower teeth, cutting it, last week. So maybe that's why the soft fruits? Or maybe he's really a wee rabbit, and he's been keeping up this baby thing as a part-time affair.
Menus and Tables
It was a motley group around our table this past Thursday. Mary Jr., partner and fascinating friend, the Pater, the MIL/FIL, some delightful lab rats and their equally delightful daughter, and of course, we merry four. The group worked really well, I thought, and we all walked away from the table reluctantly.
And in case you were wondering, most of us are grateful this year for the people and opportunities in their lives. Oh, and one person is grateful for George Washington. All in all, not too shabby.
green olives, yoghurt honey rolls, avocado/hearts of palm/radiccio/lettuce salad, tapenade for olive haters (see recipe below), a roasted eggplant dip that needs some work.
Toikey! Dead, dead bird galore
wild rice sausage, pear and fennel stuffing. There were a few more things in it, but you get the idea
steamed green beans
streuseled sweet potato casserole
lemon rice crunchies (cookies - see them under 'bonus recipe' here)
apple ginger crisp
Curious? Ask and I'll post the recipe. Oh yes, and other than the chickpeas, everything was Toddles and Eldest friendly. So no dairy, beef, sesame, poppy, tree nuts, peanuts, legumes (barring chickpeas), wheat, oats, barley, corn, spelt or eggs.
For we Imperfects, this was a Thanksgiving when we felt embraced by our odd little community, joined by snippets of family (some of whom stayed the weekend - yay for the Pater and Amtrak, brave journeyer!). The Eldest's attempt at invoking Murphy's Law of Hemophilia (the kid will get a nasty, visibly freaky bleed just as guests arrive) via an unexpected mouth bleed sailed right under the radar screen of Things to Focus On, as we dispatched bleed and re-bleed in excellent form. Serve and return. Ha!
Hoping your Thanksgivings were indeed times for giving thanks, and for happy and safe munching, not to mention clotting.
Olive Tapenade for Olive-Haters
1 clove garlic, peeled (select the clove's size as per garlic preferences)
two pinches salt
juice of 1 lemon
handful parsley (avoid stems)
1 can tasteless black olives (the non-Kalamata, house brand supermarket black olives)
In a food processor, finely chop garlic and salt. Add remaining ingredients and process until finely chopped. Serve!
Keeps well in the refrigerator for at least a week. Liquid will separate from tapenade, just stir before serving.
Excellent with bread, celery, cucumber and as a spread with sandwiches.
Ask Shifra, an occasionally annoying blog that I look at, offered up this morsel on the subject of modesty (tzniut) and lookin' a little too good. See here for Shifra on the Hot Chani problem, or this thoughtful blogger for his approach. As for me, I'm throwing my hands up. Those rabbis - first they're in my bra, now in my closet. Oy.