Anyone else out there experiencing a tiny bit of pre-Thanksgiving panic?
I guess it started on Tuesday night, when my mother came over for dinner. She began to grill me (lightly) about what she can do, what the menu was, what I had in the garden or in storage that she could take home with her that night to make ahead: I blanched. “I haven’t gone down that path yet,” I told her after I could breathe normally again.
You see, for we non-religious types, Thanksgiving is a high holiday. Scratch that: it is THE high holiday, as it celebrates food and companionship above all else. Last year, I did the 100-Mile Thanksgiving, and it was quite fun, quite festive, quite a bit of work on my part…but according to our guests, it was also quite tasty. This year I expect the same. Our one exception to the 100 miles is (as ever) butter.
So it is a week away, and I have begun my planning. We pick up our bird on Saturday; she is not a heritage breed, though next year our meat friends have conservancy on their agenda. I have found a new farm for flour and cornmeal. Wine and cider come from down the road. Most other things are coming out of the garden. Our few sweet potatoes and Brussels sprouts will be lovingly prepared. I have already begun to cut up, dry, and freeze any leftover bread, biscuits and cornbread we’ve had for the future stuffing. I even found a source for local cranberries, something that was missing at last year’s table.
So, why the panic if I have all the goods? I don’t know. Maybe because I have to work on Wednesday!