Wednesday, November 24. Thanksgiving: Some Assembly Required. In mid-morning, the cat Twinnery--the most accomplished hunter among all the cats who've owned me over the years--turned up with a prize quarry. He proudly yowled as he carried in his mouth a black king snake about three feet long. He paraded it across the patio and onto the deck. The snake waved around sinuously. The dog Susie got interested, and made Twinnery drop the snake. It slithered around the deck just outside the kitchen door, and slipped down a crack. Mary Ann was horrified.
Otherwise the day was normal, with the radio show from home. I thought about setting up the broadcast rig in the kitchen, where I could get to work on my part of the cooking. But no open counter space presented itself. The Marys have been at work on a variety of Thanksgiving dishes already.
Jude was looking for food when I got off the air. MA wanted us to deplete her massive supply of leftovers, of course. But she gave us a pass, since it was the only time on this trip when the two Fitzmorris men could dine a deux. Jude called for the Acme. Grilled oysters, bowl of gumbo for him, red beans with hot sausage for me.
And beer. The guys Jude works with are beer drinkers, and he's picking up the habit. It was the first time he ever ordered one with me. Abita's Christmas Ale, in frozen schooners. Hoppy, dark, good. He said he liked a lighter style, but thought this was good.
All of Jude's cares are thoroughly adult. He will have to get back to Los Angeles by Monday for jury duty. First time. He is in the throes of setting up a corporation for his movie work, all of which is on a freelance basis. Good plan, I told him. He told me I ought to incorporate myself, which I never have. He's right about that. Then he reverted to son mode and said he needed a small cash infusion. He hasn't asked me for any such thing in months, even when getting into a house. He is now the least expensive member of the family. He's as proud of that as I am.
Back home to get started on my cooking. First, the root beer glaze for the ham we do not as yet have in house. It takes about an hour and a half to make the glaze, but it needs little attention while it reduces. Next, the cheesecake. That doesn't require close watching, either. In fact, letting the cream cheese and sugar beat for about fifteen minutes makes the texture velvety and light.
The turkey is nearly but not completely thawed. Big hunk of ice in the center. No problem. I made up the brine solution, put the turkey in a plastic baking bag, poured in the brine, moved the bagged turkey into a plastic bucket that fits perfectly in the refrigerator. We'll see it next tomorrow morning at dawn.
Taking up most of my time through these preparations was cleaning the kitchen. Those girls sure leave a mess behind them. They say the same thing about me, though.
Jude and Mary Leigh made a store run. I can't believe we allowed the ham to remain unbought until tonight. Memories of post-Katrina, when Chisesi hams were hard to come by, rose up to scare me. But they scored an eleven-pounder for $29. I think this is the cheapest ham yet. What's the deal there?
Mary Ann wanted to make meat pies, but had trouble making pie dough with even a little integrity. I never liked making pie crusts. But I thought I'd do some research and master the art. Everything seemed to go as the cookbooks said it would, and I put two thick, large circles of dough into the refrigerator, as all my references said I should. I had every confidence that tomorrow I would let them come up to room temperature, then roll them into perfect crusts from Mary Ann's meat pies and my own pecan pie.
I went to bed around midnight. The house was a mess. But all twenty people coming tomorrow have been told not to show up until one-thirty at the earliest.
