This wasn’t the best Thanksgiving, but it definitely wasn’t the worst either. My mom at least didn’t call twenty times to cancel, making us scramble for the Chinese take-out menus.
My biggest beef of the day was the side dishes Henry chose to make. I guess since Alton Brown says to chuck an entire chipotle factory into the sweet potatoes, it must be OK. If there was any lesson I hope Henry took away from Thanksgiving, it’s that Alton Brown, while a food genius most of the time, IS NOT ALWAYS RIGHT. Holy shit, those were the worst sweet potatoes ever. However, they did serve to provide comedy when we “forgot” to tell my brother Ryan that they were “kind of hot” and he almost skyrocketed from the table.
The other side he made was corn porridge. I will go on record and say that this was my pick. It’s that Tyler Florence motherfucker’s recipe, but more importantly, it’s PORRIDGE. I felt it was my way of doing a solid for all my orphan hoes. Anyway, that shit tasted fine when we were still at home, but once we brought it to my mom’s and it was sitting amidst 49 different vegetable casseroles and a pot of mashed potatoes (which almost didn’t get made and I would have walked out, I’m not kidding), it became very obvious that it didn’t complement the standard Thanksgiving fare. At all. So fuck you, Food Network, for including that shit in the Thanksgiving sides category on your lame ass website, you fuckers.
I think I was the only one who ate it, anyway.
Chooch made this centerpiece at school. Thank god there was a prayer pasted to its back.
Not pictured: my elusive brother Ryan, otherwise known by Corey and me as The Other.
Blake and Chooch, enrapt in Toy Story 3 Matching Game on my phone.
Much to Henry’s chagrin, my aunt Sharon (who never joins us because she’s a crazy half-recluse) took it upon herself to cook the turkey. Of course it wasn’t done on time, so my mom had everyone start eating the side dishes (which is all I ever get for Thanksgiving anyway because no one considers making me a Tofurkey because who cares about the dumb girl who doesn’t eat meat, she should just be lucky she was even invited, right? Just stick a carrot in her mouth, she’ll shut up). When the turkey was finally done, my mom asked Henry if he would go pick it up (Sharon lives two houses up from my mom, up at Grey Gardens).
“Wow, is she actually going to let him in?” I asked my mom, because Sharon, you might remember, keeps the house locked-up airtight.
“I guess,” my mom shrugged.
Of course it was the first question I asked Henry when he returned with Chooch.
“No,” he laughed, but not in the jovial way. “She had it sitting in the driveway.”
There was a short silence as everyone at the table waited for him to laugh and admit he was just practicing being, what are the kids calling it these days? Funny.
But he was serious. She had the turkey in the roaster thing, wrapped in a blanket, waiting in the driveway for him.
I started laughing. Like, really laughing, with food in my mouth. “I don’t know why, but now I can’t stop picturing the turkey as baby Moses, floating down the lane.”
And then Corey started laughing too, and so did Henry’s mom but her eyes had a questioning crinkle to them, like she was silently thinking, “I don’t understand this girl at all, better to just laugh along with her though.”
Sometimes laughing is the only thing to do when you have a screwed up family. It staves off the tears for a little bit, at least.
Christmas plates and Halloween utensils: Keepin’ it classy.
Henry’s third and final mistake of the day was choosing to not bake the pie I selected, but rather some apple butter pumpkin pie found on some motherfucker’s blog. It was pretty terrible. Everyone at the table was all, “Oh wow this is a good pie, Henry” (except for me; I am very honest when it comes to pointing out Henry’s cooking fuck-ups) yet it was funny how no one finished their slice! Not even Corey! What kind of man leaves an uneaten piece of pie on their plate? A man whose taste buds are revolting, that’s who.
At least I had the foresight to bring a 6-pack of Strongbow for Corey and myself. That was my big contribution. (That’s a lot for me!)
Don’t worry, Henry. Christmas will be better. Just leave the recipe-finding to me this time.
Hope all you people had a great (and tastier) Thanksgiving!