Aside from the meal I described on the actual day of Thanksgiving, Mary made a very nice dinner (evening meal, this time) on the Monday after Thanksgiving weekend.
This all took place after my visit to Willy and Mavis.
It was supposed to be Turkey, but there was a bit of a technical problem with that. So we had baked chicken breast, and very nummy, with sweet potatos and gluten free pie- 2 kinds, lemon something or another (way yum), and pumpkin (yum, yum).
Unfortunately, Mary had a sinus cold going on so she could barely taste anything but salt.
The meal made Stella happy too.
But everyone wanted the pies.
John helped with the pies. He really likes helping with desert. You cant see it in the photo here, but there are two finger streaks in the top of the pumpkin pie where John tried to help earlier, before the meal.
About the turkey: Well, we bought it on 11/24. The label said "Use by 11/27." Early that morning on the 27th Louisa opens the turkey and says: "Eew, is there supposed to be green juice coming out of this?" Mary says, "Joe, my nose isn't working well. Does this smell good to you." Joe walks over-they always ask me to check with my nose. The reason is not that I have a better nose. The reason is that I'm too stupid to see that they have a more highly developed survival instinct.
Joe, the probiscus without a brain, thinking "what silly girls, they get grossed out so easily" comes over exhaling deeply, places his nose next to the greenish turkey juice and, regretably, inhales deeply.
"I don't know, it does smell a bit off." Translation: "Whoah, I better not let them see me turn green. After all, I'm still the man of the family."
"Let me get it unwrapped, perhaps it's just odd here." Fumes fill the kitchen. The skin of the turkey sloughs off when touched. Uncouth, murkey, and foul smelling juices fill the pan in the bottom of the sink.
"Perhaps if I just wash it off." Louisa watches at a olfactorially safe distance. I rub the bird under cold water. More skin sloughs off. I trim off the limbs that have a greenish hue.
"I don't think we should eat it. Just to be safe, you understand." We're all more relieved to get the smelly thing out of the house than we are sad that we don't get turkey.
I drain the pan with the bird in it. Put my coat on and carry the corpse out, far out to a safe biohazard disposal site.
I forgot my gloves. Well, actually, I didn't forget them, I just didn't want the stink on my hands to be permanently in my gloves. But if you remember, Monday was COLD. Here's some northern Minnesota winter kitchen math:
COLD outside + Long walk outside + Wet aluminum pan filled with 20 lb turkey - gloves
What does that equal?
Remember that kid in "A Christmas Story" who stuck his tongue on the flagpole?
That's what happened to my fingers with the pan. It wasn't hard to get them unstuck. I did dispose of the bird. While it had frozen to the pan a bit, it came out fairly easily.
I soaked my sore smelly hands to get them warm and then scrubbed them raw.
It took bleach to get the stink out.