Honestly, I had my Thanksgiving day plans set in stone weeks ago. It was going to be at my house, and I was finally going to have the chance to make the meal I wanted to make with recipes carefully picked from my favorite cooking magazines: Bon Appetit, Food and Wine, Cooking Light. The turkey would have been lovingly rubbed with the herbs and oils of my choice, and the sweet potatoes would have been in a casserole, the more butter and brown sugar, the better. For dessert, I would have had something involving pumpkin, but not pie.I hate pumpkin pie, and like I said, it would have been my Thanksgiving dinner.
The gameplan always looks good on paper, doesn't it?
As it now turns out, I have to work on Thanksgiving and most of the weekend that follows. My brother and his family normally make the ten hour drive to see us, but this year they have a new puppy and it's too young to leave behind or take along for the ride. Which is just as well since I really won't have much time to spend with them.
So this Thanksgiving, we'll be at M's house, my dear friend who I had originally invited to my home so she could have enjoyed a relaxing day.
"Don't worry, we'll keep it small and low-key," she reassured me, after I'd apologized several times for the agenda change. "When you're done with work, head on over."
As I've stated before, it always appears under control on paper.
The festivities now include eighteen people, two turkeys, and not enough dishes, chairs, or flatware. M tells me it will all be taken care of by the time the guests arrive tomorrow afternoon.
"What can I bring?" I asked. "Please let me do the sides or a dessert." I felt terrible. I'd completely shirked my hostess responsibilities and heaved the entire load on M.
"Bring wine," she said. "Lots of wine."
I called my favorite little wine shop earlier today. They're filling my order as I write this, loading up two dozen bottles of the perfect blends to accompany a Thanksgiving feast.
Maybe I can save those cooking magazines for Christmas...
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