I do it at this time every year: I scout out the holiday options.
My head will be swimming with Thanksgiving possibilities. This, courtesy of the magazines by the check stands and the displays in the grocery and the decorations at the dollar store.
I will take it all in — literally.
“Wow,” the husband will say when I empty my grocery bags on the kitchen counter. “You sure have a lot of magazines there.”
And yes, there will be a few. A few to complement the ones I picked up the previous day, and the day before that, and the day before that.
“I know!” I will say. “Just look at that dreamy pumpkin cheesecake on that cover! I am so going to make that! And look at this picture of honey-glazed squash with wild rice stuffing! I’m so going to make that!”
Thanksgiving, let me say, is my favourite holiday of the year. Call it family feast day without the stress of buying presents.
The husband will nod. The husband will have seen this movie before.
“And look at the centrepiece on that cover!” I will gush. “I think it’s paper mache. The leaves are dried and painted in a clear shellac, then scattered around the ring, along with fern fronds and rosemary sprigs.”
“Are you going to make it?” the husband will inquire.
“Duh!” I will say. “Of course I’m going to make it!”
So, too, did I decide to make a Thanksgiving wreath for the front door. The Thanksgiving wreath that had graced a cover of a magazine I picked up in September. Never mind that I haven’t yet picked up the materials, and never mind that Thanksgiving is but four days away.
As I say, my head’s been swimming with Thanksgiving possibilities.
Herein lies the problem. Spend too much time collecting and evaluating the possibilities, and there’s precious little time left over to buy the pumpkin for the cheesecake or source the fern fronds for the centrepiece.
This year, heck, I resolved to serve the family a brined citrus roast turkey, brandy-infused cranberry sauce, mashed celeriac potatoes, mushroom and blue cheese stuffed tomatoes and balsamic-glazed pearl onions. Oh, and Brussels sprouts, three ways.
The table will be to-died-for gorgeous with handmade napkins folded to look like turkeys.
But then stuff — yes, let’s just called it stuff — got in the way. Like work, say. And football. And laundry.
“How are those napkins coming along?” asked the husband a couple of days ago.
“I bought some paper ones,” I said.
“And that pumpkin cheesecake?” he asked.
“Getting a pie from the bakery,” I said.
The meal, it turns out, will be assembled with the usual components. Make-ahead potatoes. Canned cranberry sauce. Pre-packaged stuffing. Beans and carrots.
Hey, it’s what we end up with every year, and what’s Thanksgiving without tradition?
