The holidays are upon us once again. It’s a time for sharing special meals with our families…baking festive pies and cakes…buying and wrapping the perfect gifts for our loved ones…
…and for me, counting the hours, minutes, and seconds until it’s OVER.
TWO WEEKS BEFORE
There’s so much to do before I bake even one pie or wrap one present that the mere thought of it all exhausts me. Grocery shopping. Lists to write. Menus to plan. Toy stores to visit. Lines to stand in. Black Friday. BLACK FRIDAY. Is there room in the freezer for a twenty-pound turkey? What does a tween girl want for Christmas? Should I think ‘flavored vodka’ rather than flavored lip gloss?? I have no idea. I’ll buy some raspberry Stoli for myself at the ABC store (well, it’s next door to the grocer’s) and ponder the matter later.
But there’s no time for ‘later.’ Thanksgiving is the week after next. Dear God. The grocery store. A menu. Turkey, definitely. Ham, maybe. Sides? Mashed potatoes. Son complains mine are lumpy. No matter how vehemently I argue that my mashed potatoes are ‘rustic,’ he doesn’t buy it. Okay, fine – he can make the damned mashed potatoes. I’ll do a sweet potato casserole, the Ruth’s Chris Steak House recipe with the crunchy, butter/brown-sugar/pecan crumble on top. Everyone loves that. Except my grandson, who hates sweet potatoes…or veggies of any kind.
Isn’t someone lactose intolerant? Or gluten free? When did meal planning become so complicated?
ONE WEEK BEFORE
Dessert. What’ll we have for dessert? I hope I have enough canned pumpkin. I can make my world-famous pumpkin roll. Everyone scarfs that up. Takes half a day to make, though. And my daughter-in-law doesn’t like nuts. Pain in the ass. Why doesn’t SHE cook the dinner, then?? Okay. Deep breath, focus. Focus. Pumpkin pie, or chocolate pie? I hate making piecrust. It never comes out right. Add a package of Pillsbury Ready-Crusts to that grocery list.
Tablecloth. I need something festive, a brown or orange or deep red tablecloth. But I don’t have one. Wait – here’s last year’s. Right. The one with the cranberry-sauce stain the size of Texas that wouldn’t come out in the wash. Why did I keep it? Add a new tablecloth (make it paper, one less thing to wash afterwards) to the ever-growing list.
Okay. Now, to make the turkey dressing. What kind of bread? Cornbread, white, or whole grain? Sausage? Mr Oliver hates sausage in his dressing. Scratch the sausage, then. Celery. Chicken broth…sage…where the HELL is the sage??? Substitute poultry seasoning. Time to make the cranberry relish. One can of cranberry sauce, check; one can of crushed pineapple, check; walnuts…the bag is empty except for a handful of papery walnut skins. Mr Oliver must’ve eaten them while watching TV.
Screw it. Where’s the Stoli? I need a drink NOW.
THANKSGIVING DAY
Up at dawn to thrust my arm up a turkey’s ass to (a) remove the gizzards and (b) stuff it. I’d like to stuff Mr Oliver right now. He’s upstairs snoring while I’m down here wrestling with a twenty-pound, partially-frozen turkey in the kitchen sink. The turkey is winning. Thank God for that tin of Dean & DeLuca poultry seasoning someone gave me for Christmas last year. Is 5 AM too early for a Stoli? Not if I add a little splash to my glass of orange juice, it isn’t. Besides, the Vitamin C is good for me.
Okay, back to the turkey. Time to melt a stick of butter and brush it all over the skin with a pasty brush – WHERE THE HELL IS MY PASTRY BRUSH?
“Have you seen the pastry brush?” I ask, gritting my teeth as Mr Oliver wanders into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee.
“Why on earth would I have your pastry brush?” he snaps. Then the dawn of recognition crosses over his unshaven face. “Wait…I do seem to remember…I couldn’t find my small paintbrush so I used that little brush I found in the kitchen drawer to cover up the scuff marks on the dining room baseboard.”
“That little paintbrush you found was my PASTRY BRUSH.”
He grabs his coffee and heads towards the garage. “Oh, well, not to worry. A little turpentine and it’ll be as good as new.”
“I CAN’T BASTE THE TURKEY WITH TURPENTINE,” I snarl.
He eyes me in mild shock. “My God but you’re testy this morning. Would you like a cup of coffee? A Xanax, perhaps?”
“Get. Out. Now,” I hiss.
He and his coffee retreat to the den.
Back to the matter at hand. Dump the half-solidified butter over the bird and shove the bastard in the oven. (The turkey, not Mr Oliver. Although right now, the idea is not without its appeal.)
My kitchen looks like a crime scene. There are blood splatters in the sink and dribbles of congealing butter on the countertop. I still need to peel the potatoes. Where’s the peeler? Can’t find it, this dull utility knife will have to do instead. Oops…there’s my blood added to the turkey blood. Welcome to CSI: The Oliver Kitchen. In this episode, a writer murders her husband, using a dull utility knife to commit the perfect crime-
“Katie,” Mr O shouts from the den, “have you seen the TV remote? I can’t find it.”
I fling the potato peeler aside and find the remote exactly where my darling husband left it – lying on top of the microwave. I stalk into the den, throw it at him, and stalk back to the kitchen. The phone rings.
“Hi mom.” It’s my youngest, still unattached, son. “Is it okay if I bring, like, a couple of friends to dinner?”
I know from past experience that ‘a couple’ means five. Or possibly six. “Don’t your friends have families of their own?”
“Yeah, but they’re all in like, Cancun or something.”
I close my eyes and wish to hell I was in Cancun with them. “Fine. See you at two.”
“Cool! You’re the best. Thanks, mom.”
I suppress a yawn, tell him I love him, and finish peeling the potatoes. Then I cover them with water and wash my hands.
I stumble upstairs, reeking of poultry seasoning and melted butter, and fall into the blissful comfort of my bed to sleep until two o’clock…or maybe I’ll just stay here and hide under the covers until the holidays are over.
KATIE’S CRANBERRY RELISH
1 can 20-oz crushed pineapple, drained
2 16-oz cans whole-berry cranberry sauce
1/2 cup chopped walnuts
1 pkg (16 oz) frozen whole berries (strawberries, raspberries, or mixed berries), thawed & drained
Mix ingredients in large bowl and chill. Serve with turkey or ham. Can be made up 2-3 days ahead.
Yield: 6 1/2 cups
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