I'll Bring the Popcorn

I once was invited, about ten years ago, to cook a Thanksgiving dinner, or at least help with 80% of it. I haven't done it since. What happens is that people start to butt in as they're absolutely sure you're doing it wrong. The real problem is that they've never seen how it was done right in the first place, ever, in their lives.

Add to that those who bring a pot luck dish to add to the dinner. They insist you critique it. That's an occasion to whip up a big FAT white lie, or many of them.

I”ve been in this career over 20 years. I'm not Jacques Pepin and don't claim to be. There are a few things I can do that I bat out of the park, routinely. And...there are other things I can butcher with almost 100% certainty each time.

So, a week before we were to meet, I warned the others, who were going to “help” to understand what prep means. Prepping doesn't mean you do it at 8 AM for a 1 PM dinner.

“Well, why not? They can ask

“Where are you going to put the food you make to keep it warm?”

“The oven.”

“Won't the turkey be in the oven then?” I say.

“Ohhh...” The light bulb finally goes off. “But what about the top of the stove?”

I answer, “We'll be cooking off those items that have to be done in the last hour, all four burners will be occupied.”

Silence...

I finally say, “There's only so much equipment and room here, we have to use strategy!”'

**

I had preheated the oven and after a while I opened it up to stuff the turkey in. What was odd, I should've been hit in the face with a heat wave but was met with a nice warm breeze instead. I looked at the dial and it said 350 degrees. Uh oh, something's up. I asked B when he used the oven last and I hear this, “Oh, about 10 yeas ago”

“B, this oven is waay off. It's not 350.” After you work for years around ovens you can guesstimate the temperature from just how your face is hit when that first blast comes from a just opened oven.

I get shouted down.

“Oh, the oven's fine! It works! Put the damn bird in the oven.” B says.

So I do, but behind his back, I jack the dial to 450.

I found this funny as some guests were about to go ballistic when I was about to dump something called a mirepoix into the garbage after I had used it.

Many meats, including turkey, are best cooked on top of a layer of carrots, onions and celery, that's a mirepoix. It adds flavor, color and all sorts off goodies. When the turkey was done, I hefted it out of it's pan onto a plate, drained the juice than was about to toss the browned, nearly burnt mirepoix into the trash.

“What are you doing!” Two people spoke up.

“I'm done with this, it can go now” I say.

“No! No!” We want it! We'll eat it! Those two say. They looked at me as I were nuts.

I stood there, realizing I could not explain to them what those veggies were for and how destroyed they were after baking in an oven for over 3 hours. I'd be shouted down. So I shut up. They put them in a bowl to eat when everything else was done.

Those who live in Plymouth pride themselves on NOT eating that canned cranberry sauce. They make their own. D. had brought her own in as a pot luck addition. The berries are cheap there and they damn near grow everywhere there's water. D asked me to try a bit and I did. The “sauce” is not pureed and it has berries in whole form still. I tasted it and nearly gagged. The acid in them would knock out an ape. Not only that, the berries were still crunchy which told me they were barely scalded when she cooked them.

“So? How is it? She asks. In that anticipation I'd pat her head for a job well done.

I lie as best as I can. “Oh, it's fine, put it in the fridge.”

I turn back to the counter and don't dare swallow this crap, waiting for that moment when I can spit it out. I manage.

A Simple Trick for Mashed Potatoes.

I had drained a pot of them and then returned said pot back on the burner to evaporate any water that was left. Once again, the crew had to interject their disapproval.

“You'll burn THEM!” I hear Dammit, once again if I TRIED to explain why, they wouldn't believe it. This time I ignored them and drove off the water. Why have mashed that's sloppy? Let the butter do the creaming trick instead of thinning water.

The same holds for making your own autumn squash too. Get rid of that water! Unfortunately, D was in charge of making those.

Finally we hit the table and pass the food around. Due to being raised with manners, I HAVE to put some of the other's pot luck food on my plate to at least seem I want it. EXCEPT that destroyed mirepoix. Though I see everyone else taking a heaping of that greasy, burned mixture.

I pile up my plate and I noticed D's crunchy cranberry sauce and her water-shedding squash is already forming a little river polluting everything else on my plate. Everything else seemed to be in order though. I chow it down, taking the most minimal bites of the cran and squash.

So, after we're all done, K wants to surprise us with her own pumpkin pie which she made from scratch. Well, this might be good I say to myself.

I did, until I saw her cut the pie up. The center of it was still gelatinous and all I could think was salmonella. The pie wasn't cooked all the way through. So, being nice, I accepted my piece and ate all that WASN'T near the center. Though no one puked the days after though I came to find out.

Had we done the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving, it would've been far easier.