Bake and Shake

I have...

EXACTLY enough vanilla extract to flavor the whipped cream for tomorrow, and that is it. Somehow I did it, and I'm not even going to ask how, but I am so happy I do not have to go to the store.

I need to go soak my feet and go to bed.

And now, I leave you. Happy Thanksgiving!

Oh man. Tomorrow, you'll be fist-first up a turkey and smiling big the whole time, right? I will be.

Something that has saved my sanity on various holidays is The Quick Bread. It can be eaten as a snack, a meal, whatever. Slather it with something - cream cheese, cream cheese frosting, butter, jam, turkey fat. Do with it what you will, but offer it to those who slide into your kitchen between 9 and 2 tomorrow, before there's anything out that they can pillage. This will save you from their expectations of a quick sandwich, a quick bite, a quick fistfight in the garage, culminating in a dramatic procession to the backyard, where you pour the cooler of leftover turkey brining solution into the hot tub. Top that next year.

I have to go wrangle some pie dough, and cut up another finger, but before I do I wanted to leave you with this recipe. It resulted in the three beauties above - I followed the recipe exactly as posted, but added in a bag of cranberries that I washed, sorted over (for stems and rot) and tossed in an additional tablespoon of flour, which keeps them suspended in the dense batter.

And I also wanted to wish you the best, most thankful day you can possibly imagine. I have had so much to be thankful for this year, and most of it happened just after Thanksgiving last year. Things that changed my life, things that fixed me, things that showed me how to fix myself. I am beyond thankful, and without sounding ridiculous, I am thankful for you. A little bit. Punches = Kisses. Much love, and go trip out on tryptophan.

Cranberries and 14th place: I finally get on board the Holiday Recipe Express

Here's the first of two Thanksgiving recipes. I figure that I'll post the rest the day after, when the sight of a turkey or pie makes you want to hit poultry. Or on Valentines Day.

One of the saddest things about Thanksgiving is the wealth of cranberry sauce, preserves, conserve or relish that you're left with. No matter how little you make, just enough to satisfy the traditionalists, it seems to expand and bloom and you've got twice as much at the end of the meal, compared to what you began with.

I love Cranberries. I think they provide a wealth of color, a shot of acid into a meal that is usually as brown and sodden as the leaves outside. And Cranberry Conserve is so simple to make, so simple that I have to talk myself down from doubling the recipe just because. My usual recipe is here, but this year I wanted to branch out a little. Add the gizzards from the turkey. For a brighter, fresher flavor.

Really, all I did was omit the cinnamon, apple and use a little less citrus, a little more sugar. And then a vanilla bean shows up, invites herself inside and plunks down in the hot tub. Hey guys. I don't believe in swimsuits.

If you haven't committed yourself to a specific recipe, give this one a try. The vanilla is beautiful, and the Satsuma rind and juice is sweet and tart and just different enough from regular navel oranges to perfume the sauce in a whole new way.

Cranberry Conserve with Vanilla, Lemon and Satsuma
1 bag (12 ounces) cranberries, washed and picked over
1 cup vanilla sugar
1 Satsuma or small tangerine
1 small lemon
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup water
1/2 large vanilla bean, split

In a medium saucepan, dump the cranberries, sugar and water. Peel a large swath of rind from both the Satsuma and lemon, and add those, with the vanilla bean. Dash in the salt, and then juice both the lemon and Satsuma. Add the juices to the pot, and bring to a ploppy, slow boil over medium-high heat, cooking just until liquid thickens, turns bright red and a few berries begin to split and pop. Remove from heat and pour into your chosen serving dish, then press a piece of plastic wrap on top. Cool to room temp, then chill/store in the fridge until ready to serve, at least four hours.

So, some things.

What are you making, or not making, for Thanksgiving?

I thought I was pretty set, but now Deb's taunting me with walnut tartlets. The obvious answer is, no turkey, just desserts.

There is always a point where I feel like we don't have enough of something - sides, appetizers, desserts. That last one is what is keeping me up right now. We are feeding over twenty people on Thursday. Our robot brethren. There is a 24 pound turkey thawing in the fridge. We bought five dozen eggs today. And there is a smaller, 13 pound turkey in a cooler on the back porch - to be brined and smoked. Seven pounds of butter await, along with four bricks of cream cheese. And a Jarvik Artificial Heart.

So, what are you making, for the day itself and the days before and after - last year we made Chili and cornbread for Thanksgiving Eve, but this year I think, and I pray, that we have Chinese. Or garbage. "Your stomach composts!"

Also, this is something I've been sitting on for a bit, but would you be interested in a drawing/giveaway for a 100% Cashmere long-sleeved "T-shirt" sweater and/or suitcase from a pretty decent retailer? I've never done one on my site, and I don't even know if you'd be interested in that sort of thing. You know? So let me know, in the comments, please, and we'll work this out. Free stuff this year is even better than free stuff last year, I think.

10 thoughts about this video I found on Linsey's site

1. I thought this was a Funny or Die video at first.
2. I thought Frances McDormand was starring in this Funny or Die video, and I loved her even more.
3. I didn't realize it wasn't a Funny or Die video until she got up and announced that she was going to repeat the moves.
4. I love that she left the mic on, so you hear these little muffled grunts and the friction of hand on sensual spandex capri. Visceral.
5. I wonder if that is her house.
6. I wonder if those sparse, minimal, artfully placed excercise equipment instillations are up year-round, and if she hits the grandchild who wants to play with the ball.
7. I wonder if she lets her grandkids call her grandma. "Call me Pam!"
8. I still think this might be a Funny or Die video.
9. She doesn't let you down in the eye contact department.
10. I don't like those shoes.

ETSY Gift Guide '08: House, Home, Crawlspace - What to buy for dwellings

There are people among us who want you to buy something for a room in their life. A specific room - "I don't really want anything, but you could get something for the kitchen." The kitchen, which has not done a thing for you in your lifetime. Is now on your list. But instead of thinking too hard about it, and succumbing to the clearance sections at Anthro or Restoration Hardware, pick out a few of these beauties - they range in price from ridiculously cheap, to "I love your kitchen a lot. I hope your kitchen is down with hooking me up with its pancreas, when the time comes. I will be making that call. In the dead of night."

Your best friend's Kitchen


I would like to give one of those ceramic glove molds to Paula Deen, to hold her rings while she fondles ground meat. "Y'all, raw pork is as sensual as a lover." The orange tree? Right, exactly - buy it now, or a month ago, and get it all potted up before it is time to unwrap. The scale is cuter than anything in Anthropologie, the ceramic house numbers could be used in or out, and the stout little jugs just make me happy.
  
Your sister's Boudoir


Don't lie. You might try one of those little vintage soaps. The one you don't think is as pretty as the others. Whatever. I guess I'm just the gross one then. But besides those, which you would only use as decoration, there are so many other things worth buying for the bathroom, bedroom, dressing room and beyond. I like those little terrariums, and the bathing beauties print. And some soap you can actually use on your body, right now, or save it for forty years. Let it mellow.

Your ridiculous entrepreneur of a cousin's Office


She can spin money from straw, and she's set up shop - so give her some guff, and some lovely things - the 'Live what you love' print is so nice, and affordable, order one for yourself. The Orla-ish pillow will work for the late-night catnaps, glue that will smell delicious when she turns to huffing office supplies to get through it all, and a little business card holder, for the cards that hold her business. In return, ask for nothing, except a blood oath assuring you that you will be called upon to be the Gayle to her Oprah when she usurps Winfrey in 2015. 

Your brother's Dorm, "The Dream Factory"


The Hygiene cards aren't meant to be sent as a single pack, but space them out over the next five months - Like a meat of the month club. A raccoon in Business dress might just be the reminder that he needs to step off the side business and concentrate on studies, because someone in a tie is always watching. And the inventory tags? Completely practical. The plate is a joke, Mom. The plate is a JOKE.

For all of us

The best pie crust recipe. I always doubt which one to use (Martha used to have a few versions listed in her recipe index), but here is the one that has always worked for me.

Once I was baking with a friend over, we got distracted by our conversation and I forgot to prick the crusts I was blind-baking for a quiche, and didn't do another chill after pressing them into the pans. They weren't useable for that purpose, but they were edible, and we split one down the middle. I don't suggest you do that, but they're beyond good.

1:03, my favorite part

GAP commercials always make me happy.

"Time for the Annual Thanksgiving Cavity Search!"

I don't know when, or why, Thanksgiving overtook Christmas for my family, but it may have been the year we stuffed the turkey with tiny chocolate Santas, lit firecrackers and oranges and encouraged the youth to go for it. "Plunge a hand in there. Up to the elbow, or you're not really trying. Everybody needs to stop crying, right now."

Or it may be that Thanksgiving is all the fun, all the ruckus, all the excitement and all of the food of Christmas, with no material expectations or obligations. And my family can be together, all of us, with no complicated "Well, IT IS CHRISTMAS" rules to uphold. And now there is a baby to fight over, the first of a new generation, with another set of extended relatives that haven't been pirated by our family who would like to see her, so while we won the baby last year, I think we're officially disqualified from entering this year. You just eat and laugh and make fun of one another and no one has to do anything but that.

I have been planning, prepping and cooking my family's Thanksgiving dinner, with help, for almost seven years now. That is a long time, looking back on it, and I am about to sound world weary, a mother of five who at thirty-seven is about to pass down some tips. No. I am twenty-six, and since my paternal Grandma's (the Matriarch of Holiday Cooking) declining health and eventual death coincided with my growing, obsessive interest in cooking, I was nineteen and dumb and wrestled my way into the hot seat.

The year was 1848. I watched every cooking special, read every holiday issue of Martha Stewart, Gourmet, Bon Appetit, Food and Wine, Fine Cooking, Cooks Illustrated and on and on over the years, until there was nothing left but to dig in. And I did. Complicated, ridiculous menus, appetizers so rich and heavy that after just hearing about them, because I talked about those menus a lot, no one had room to eat. I was going to cook, they were going to eat, and I was going to make every single item I wanted to. Regardless of whether or not people would eat it. Shut up about the yams. No one eats the yams. BUT WE ARE HAVING YAMS. THEY WILL GO. IN YOUR MOUTH.

THE GODDAMN YAMS.

I can't talk about those years, the showdowns the day before in the grocery store between my mom and I, my Midwestern mom who was hosting and financing the event and would like to know what is wrong with a boneless turkey breast and one box of Stovetop Stuffing to feed 19 people, while I, age 20, was wondering why I could not find vacuum-sealed chestnuts in a suburban grocery store. Right now I'm giving thanks that I never attempted to brine a turkey. There's something chilling about that image, a short young woman holding raw poultry in her hands at twilight, swearing and kicking it across the lawn, filling a leaky cooler with herb-scented saline solution and praying nobody dies the next day. Or maybe, because we're practical, praying that not everyone dies.

But I calmed down, grew up, and now I am beyond where I ever thought I'd be when it comes to Holiday Meals. This year I look forward to a lot of things, the top item being Day-After turkey sandwiches on good bread with Kewpie mayonnaise and pickles. I have a list of things I'd like to make, my kitchen partner-in-crime has her list, lists vetted by various family members who fill me in on their ever-changing likes, dislikes, allowances and so on. I like to keep these lists, look back over the years at what I'd planned and what made it to the table, what was cooked and what was actually eaten. What we ate for what seemed like a year, and what we all mourned when looking over the leftovers.

Oh, Thanksgiving is a lovely day. So this year, I hope you fall to your knees and no matter your denomination or views on the matter, bow down to the naked bird and hug your loved ones close, eat and don't let everybody else take all the good stuff home. I'm not done talking about the day, but I wanted to make sure I wished you a happy one right off the bat.

Next up: What I plan to shove in the faces of my loved ones this year.

ETSY Gift Guide '08: Small/Medium/Large - what to buy for brothers, cousins and others

Dudes, Fellas, Pals. Bros, literal or otherwise. They make your life interesting, and so here's what I'd buy if I had any brothers, younger or older, but plan to draw on for my cousins and friends. We've got t-shirts, cufflinks, a lovely slow dance between two bears under glass, stuffed creatures, wooden toys, cameras and soap. "Don't make me wash your mouth out with brains."

Enjoy, and I hope they enjoy it too, so much that the only feasible way of expressing their joy is with a punch to the shoulder, or a mild fracture.

Little


Unless someone gives him a REAL tractor, like the kind you need special certification to drive, or an actual suit made of elephant skin, you're probably golden.

Not so little


A dragon farting fire. Tell me you're not vying for 'Favorite' this year. Not even a little bit. Those masks are creepy, the hat dashing and don't be surprised if every car in the driveway is covered with small woodland creature decals by the end of the evening.

Not even a little bit little

 
In this batch, the '100 custom one-inch buttons' is my favorite choice. Your brother, nephew, cousin is sure to come up with something worth passing around, like 'Dale Meat is the Best Meat', which he can wear with his "I'm with the Invisible Woman" shirt. And the goggles.

Grown

"Who's the old man, in the picture hanging up in your dorm room?"

"Him? Cousin Earl Boffus. We're not supposed to talk about him. My mom wanted to burn that portrait, but then she woke up and there was a family of rats surrounding the picture, hissing. So we didn't. I took it to school, instead." Give him the gift of storytelling, this year. You're like a little Creative Writing professor, you know that? You know that? And instead of hunting eBay for a working Land Camera, hit up Etsy and find one in nearly mint condition, for the price of a movie after six, and a Quarter Pounder with Cheese value meal. Stick in a pack of film, and a certificate promising to send him a new one once a month for a year. Or just go for silver, and order a customized sterling silver guitar pick for him. Sweet. Tell him not to pawn it, ever.