The turkey's been hacked at, eaten, and left-over-ed in the fridge, the good chi
na and flatware has been washed and put away. Even the linen napkin that at least one guest used in lieu of tissue (ew!) has been washed and folded and stored. The rude behavior, the questionable comments, the odd gestures, have been done and said and left behind. They'll live on in memories of Thanksgiving 2007, to be examined in greater depth on another day.
Then there are the regrets, all of them culinary. Regret for eating too much of the: a. stuffing, b. carrot cake, c. pie, d. cookies e. potatoes, f. turkey, or g. all of the above. And more. My solution: Toss All Leftovers. My grandmother, who survived the Great Depression, would surely be horrified by the amount of food I threw away. So would my own mother, who was never allowed by her mother to discard food of any kind. As a result, I feel guilty every time I do it. But, still . . . Sometimes, it's just necessary. You have to get rid of two-day-old food somehow, even borderline-rotting, salad with a slimy consistency, and if you have no Chinese orphans or neighbors or growing teenagers to feed, then the food ends up in you or in the garbage can. I choose the can!
Also, my back is sore from: standing and cooking, serving and getting, clearing and cleaning. I may be the sandwich maker in my family's Sandwich Generation, but my aches and pains are telling me that I'm also the Back Ache-er Generation.
I'm thankful Thanksgiving is over!
The holiday is complicated by having college-age children home. They can be alternately: breath-takingly ungrateful, sweet and thoughtful, slovenly and lazy, helpful and sweet. It's wonderful to have them home. And nearly as wonderful to have them Gone. Bye-bye, sweetie.... (said sweetly).
Every year, I make notes about the successes and failures of Thanksgiving, and file them under "Thanksgiving" in my recipe box. And, mostly, every year I ignore my suggestions to myself. Last year, for instance, I told myself to Make Less Salad, Make Less Stuffing, and No Bread! So what'd I do this year? Still too much of everything. Every year I remind myself of what I should do, and then I don't.
Thanksgiving: a holiday of Repulsive Excess and Ignoring My Own Advice. . .
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