There are invisible forces at work in my kitchen that go far beyond the teaspoon. My invisible cooking counsel, which includes my Grandmother, Ina Garten, Martha Stewart, Julia Child, Christopher Kimball and Justin Wilson, I guarantee, were with me during the preparations of this year’s Thanksgiving harvest feast.
I decided to make as many of the traditional dishes from scratch that I could manage. On the eve of Thanksgiving I baked to the tunes of soul music streaming through my headphones while I made homemade honey-wheat dinner rolls with honey butter (very proud of this accomplishment), an old-fashioned lattice apple pie, a sugar & spice pumpkin pie with brandied ginger creme chantilly and a carrot cake. I cleaned. I slept. And when I awake the next day, before dawn, I cooked. A citrus-herb turkey, cornbread dressing, greens, macaroni and cheese and candied yams.
By 3:30 PM, my two children, my daughter’s boyfriend and I sat around the candlelit table with golden, purple and orange flowers and relished in the bounty of the feast. Our plates were filled to the brim with love and nourishment and our glasses overflowed with gratitude and optimisim as the winds whispered into the ears of all, “We give thanks!”