so in honor of thanksiving this weeks topic is :
whats the worst thing youve eaten on thanksgiving? or the worst thanksgiving youve had? or hell the worst thing or meal youve made your self …
share and discuss…
First!
The bottom element in the oven died; didn’t know this until I went to cut it. The top of the turkey looked wonderfully brown, the thermometer said the breast was at the proper temp; the bottom parts were still raw.
Good Mornin’ Y’all! Up and caffeinatin’. YAWN ‘Tis 38 Amurrkin out and clear (as opposed to murky?) with a predicted high of 64 and mostly N.O.S. for the day. Today I shall spiff da cave. I shall do a bit more deep cleanin’ as we do have company comin’ for Turkey Day pig out. That will pretty much take care of my day. Sup shall be boxed lasagna (don’t judge!), sallit, and cheesey garlic bread. Tomorrow I shall begin prep for the big feast.
This is not a Turkey Day disaster, but it did involve a turkey. The first house I owned has a gas stove with an electronic pilot lighter. Thus, it was plugged into an outlet behind the stove. Unbeknownst to me, a friend (well, he was until he did this) had unplugged the stove from the outlet. So, I turn on the oven and notice it was not quite heatin’ up. Couldn’t figure it out but knew the temp was no where near what it should be and I had a fifteen pound turkey all ready to get cooked. I did not know what to do! I called an appliance repair place and fortunately someone could come out and take a look at the stove. He comes in, pulls the stove out and, lo and behold, ‘tis unplugged. I knew I hadn’t done that so was somewhat confuzzled. Anywho, turkey got baked up and other foods prepared. Company came to eat, includin’ friend who had done the deed. He said he had unplugged the stove because since it’s gas, didn’t need to be plugged in. Needless to say, I got slightly (read largely) poed. Others there berated him, as well as me, for bein’ so stoopit and in general for bein’ a butt who would do such a thing in someone else’s home. He got thrown out and became ex-friend.
I lived with someone for a few years who always burned bread. It got to the point he was not allowed to make bread because it was a small house and the whole place smelled like burnt bread for days when it happened. I was glad, not for that but for many other things I shall not go into, when I got rid of him.
Now I need more caffeine and to feed rumbly tummy. Then, onward into the day. Rah.
Happy Moanday Y’all!
Twenty-ish years ago when **FCD **was working at the wire mill in VA, they had a crew from Sweden there to commission some new equipment, and we invited them over for T-day dinner. I decided to set it up buffet-style and I also decided *(NEVER DO THIS!!!) *to try out a new recipe that day. Well, turkey dries out really fast in a buffet tray, and the side dish was awful! Other parts were OK, and the Swedes were exceedingly polite about it all. At least the punkin pies were good - I do make a good punkin pie.
When my mom was a new bride, she did the classic didn’t-remove-the-packet-from-the-cavity-before-cooking. Her mother wasn’t big on teaching in the kitchen - she wanted everyone OUT while she worked, so Mom is pretty much a self-taught cook. She done pretty good, since she spent a number of years as a self-employed caterer.
My turkey is starting to feel softer, so it should be good to smoke on Firday. It’ll be consumed next month. Along with the deviled eggs, I’m taking a sweet N.O.T. casserole - the one with pecans on top, NOT marshmallows. Other than that, Mom didn’t need anything.
Today has 3 chores - deposit a check for FCD’s biz, take inlaws’ laptop to see if it can be repaired, and take care of the leaves in the front and back yards. The computer place is right by the credit union, and it opens at 10, so those two will be the first chores. I’ll do the leaves when it warms a bit - it’s still sub-freezing here.
Roxy spent the night with her other grandmother, so it’s very quiet here. For now.
Happy Moanday!
Make sure your bladders are empty…
The Daughter was dating a young man whose family was Vegetarian. We were included in an invitation by the young man’s uncle and his wife for T-Day festivities.
The entire goup consisted of me, Mr VOW, our two kids, Boyfriend and his family.
I had never met Aunt and Uncle before this.
I make a great Vegetarian T-Day dish: stuffed pumpkin! Regular stuffing, but include diced dried fruits. Pumpkin (preferably a white one!) Is hollowed out, inside flesh is rubbed with just a dusting of cinnamon, cloves, etc. Stuff pumpkin, bake until knife can be easily inserted in pumpkin flesh.
Foolproof, right?
Well, THIS T-Day, I wanted to make a LOW-CARB stuffing. I went to a local health food store and bought several types of low-carb bread, focusing on ATKINS stuff.
I did everything like I usually do, and everything smelled SO GOOOOOD!
Off to a stranger’s house for the feast…
Everybody ooh-ed and aaah-ed over the pumpkin. Blessings were said, and we all dive in.
Oh, gear Gawd…
Atkins and other low carb breads, when used as stuffing, turn into those erasers we had in grade school. You remember them: Pink Pearl.
~VOW
Morning all. As for the actual eats for dinner, it was probably when I was in Abu Dhabi, Thanksgiving was just another work day there, so wold have had sammiches and probably ate out in the evening.
For worst day, that was easy, it was several days before T-day and I was anticipating heading home and meeting my brand-new niece, who had been born the previous week, when I get a call from my brother (he had moved to St. Louis for a new job, his wife had given birth in Columbus, OH where then had lived before). Before I could say anything, he said “Don’t say anything, I am at the airport, my baby has a hole in her heart.” I spent the day arranging quarters for his Basset Hound and locking up his place and then driving to Columbus. We ate somewhere in Columbus that Turkey day, have no idea what or where.
The story has a happy ending. After two heart operations, my niece is finishing her Doctorate and is quite healthy and happy.
So…46F heading for 60, N.O.S. today but rain predicted for tomorrow. Need to look for a long-handled brush for cleaning the bathtub, its’ at such an angle that I need to climb in it to get the farther areas, so something where I can stand and clean is indicated. Maybe a little furniture look-see is also indicated.
All y’all have a good Moanday.
Oh, lort, the green beans!
A few years ago, hubby and the girls and I got roped into Thanksgiving at Mr. Matata’s Dad’s and stepmom’s. It was a nice idea, but…
Cynthia, may she rest in peace, was a very nice lady, but not a cook. And common sense wasn’t her strength. FIL did most of the cooking that day, and I brought some contribution, but Cynthia wanted to add something special to the table. She had recently come across the recipe for green bean casserole, (the bog standard one printed on every can of soup since the sixties,) and was reminded of her own mother, who apparently made it every year. Cynthia didn’t get out much…
That would have been fine, except that, bless her heart, Cynthia wanted to to make it Extra Special. So she looks to the spice cabinet for inspiration. She’s telling us about her exotic culinary journey as we are serving our plates, and she was so proud of herself.
Cinnamon, y’all. Cinnamon!
So there we all sit, trying to dip around the edges, push food around plates, sneak green beans into napkins, etc. Meanwhile, Cynthia - who barely ate, and hadn’t sampled her creation - is anxiously, repeatedly, asking our opinions. I turned into Roget’s thesaurus that Thursday. “Remarkable,” “extraordinary,” “bold,” and so forth. Later, FIL discreetly scraped the scraps into a pan for the dog. The beagle wouldn’t touch it. The BEAGLE!
(When I read the topic for the MMP, I laughed. Husband asked what was funny. I told him. He immediately said “oh God, the green beans!”)
Back to the present: Cool, dry, and NOS here in SE Georgia. The 9yo had to be dropped off for a field trip this morning. Littlest Miss was feeling puny yesterday, and I thought she’d stay home today. But after a good long sleep, she jumped out of bed at 5:30, chattering like a magpie, so off to school with her.
Had Sunday dinner with the folks yesterday, and was assigned what to bring for holiday meals (Thanksgiving × two, plus Christmas at my brother’s house.) Naturally, I forgot to write it down, so all I remember is a spiral ham and pecan pie for Thursday, and iced tea for Sunday. And a to-go plate for the college girl Thursday (she’s working retail, and scheduled all day at the grocery store plus the department store,) and go plates for both college students Sunday (The Boy works at the student dining hall.)
And I just found out that my stepbrother and his wife will be in for a couple of days. It’s a big surprise, and our dad doesn’t know. He’ll be over the moon! Gotta check with bro, though, and see if he wants to join us for football on Saturday. I hope so. It would be really fun!
I bought a brined turkey from Trader Joe’s on Thursday. It’s 14 pounds, which is entirely too big, but it’s the smallest they had. There’s a can of cranberry sauce in the cupboard, and there are potatoes in another cupboard. I still have to buy stuffing, green beans, and cream of mushroom soup.
The worst turkey was at a neighbor’s house a few years ago. She basically stewed it, and it was awful.
The worst gravy was my own first attempt when I was about 21 years old. In fact, it was the first time I ever attempted a turkey dinner, trying to impress my then girlfriend and some others. I called my mother and asked her how to make gravy. She said “Just use an equal amount of flour and fat and then add water”, etc. She said nothing about cooking the fat/flour before adding liquid, nor did she happen to mention that using ALL of the fat would create a trough of gravy.
I followed her instructions, mixing all of the fat in the pan with what was likely a cup or more of flour. Then I dumped in about a quart of water, which was sucked up immediately. Another quart had similar effect. In the end, I had one of those large roaster pans about half full of what can only be described as a pale, semi-liquid spackle, and tasted about like one would imagine spackle to taste.
People gamely ladled it onto their food and went into the living room to eat, leaving the ladle sitting in the pan of gravy. I went back into the kitchen some time later and went to pull the ladle out, but the “gravy” had hardened and I lifted the entire pan up. Someone took a photo of me holding the ladle handle with the gravy pan hanging from the end of it.
I cooked a turkey one time with the bag of innards still in it. Yuck.
Blurf haven’t read Blurf
Happy Moonday!
It’s a N.O.S. 45 degrees outside, supposed to get up to 55 today.
It was a bit chilly but not so bad at the park this morning.
The water is still turned on.
I have a lot to do this week. In addition to making the turkey and a few sides, I have to get everything out and ready for the ex-bf of niece2 to do some irk around here. I should probably buy stuff like roofing paper and roofing nails before Firday. I thought we could do that on Firday, but I imagine even Home Depot and Lowes are going to be horrible that day. I’ll do that Hump Day while the pups are at daycare.
I may also buy paint. The bathroom walls are peeling, I guess whoever painted them used the wrong kind of paint. I may scrape and sand them and my niece’s ex can paint for me. I’m not sure how much he can get done in one day, and what all I want to get done that day. I need a new front gate too, the one I have is falling apart. And I need some pavers for him to put in where the trash can lives.
I need to make a list.
Then I’ll be cooking again on Sunday.
I can’t think of any cooking disasters on Thanksgiving. The one year I made dinner, the turkey drippings spilled over into the oven and caught on fire. My ex-husband came running with the fire extinguisher, but several of us were able to block him before he could ruin the turkey.
There was another year, but that … well, it didn’t involve cooking.
Oh, gravy… The year my mother brined the bird, she used those dripping to make the gravy. OMG, nothing has ever been so salty in the history of salt! It was inedible! That was the year I decided I’d never ever EVER brine a turkey. ick.
Back from erranding. The computer fixers were locked up, so the laptop came home with me. But I took care of the banking, and I made a stop at Food Lion and McKay’s. I’m about to go out and fire up the leaf blower - good times!
Chefguy (sorry, I don’t remember your MMP nickname. Chefdude? Cookie? Grumpy Guy with Weird Hat?) the gravy story reminds me of my youthful efforts at expanding my culinary horizons.
Picture it: I’m a 20-year-old newlywed, from Middle of Nowhere Georgia. (Nearest landmark: Okefenokee Swamp.) I grew up in the kitchens of some estimable southern cooks, but I had visions of Samantha and Durwood hosting the Tates for regular dinners, and assumed that I was expected to put on the hog for fancy meals for husband’s boss on the regular. So I set out to teach myself. But gravy? That’s basically half of one’s genetic inheritance and bloodstream if you grow up with grannies from rural Georgia.
Now, my grandmother was a seriously amazing cook. And she owned one cookbook: The Joy of Cooking. So I figured I’d start with that. Invested in a copy. (It was about $30 in 1989. A substantial investment!)
And I had taken just enough French language/culture classes in school to understand that sauces are supposed to be the ne plus ultra of classic cuisine. So I flipped to that chapter and started reading.
Alfredo: “well, that’s just cream gravy with garlic and cheese!”
Bechamel: “Who the hell wants nutmeg in the gravy?!”
Etc.
I don’t know if there’s a term for the opposite of culture shock (probably a 27-letter German word.) But I got a lot more comfortable playing around in the kitchen once I learned that most of the mother sauces are just gravy!
Just finished blowing the leaves off the deck and porch and out of a couple of flower beds. I’m having a bowl of veggie soup, and after, I’ll fire up the mulcher/vac - it shouldn’t take much more than an hour.
Supper will be a ham/N.O.T./onion casserole with green beans on the side. So, the rest of my day is planned.
Howdy Y’all! Takin’ a break from cave defilthyfyin’. Actually I am almost done. All that’s left is to mop da cave which is relatively easy with my wunnerful steam mop. Then I shall chill until time to start sup which will be easy to get done. YAY!
Peaches I agree. Not a whole lot of difference between sauces and gravy. I figured out a long time ago they were no big mysteries. Some folks, however, are eternally confuzzled with both of 'em.
You were obviously raised by southern ladies who made gravy twice a day and wore hats to church.
Did your granny sweep her yard?
What’s so hard about gravy? You open a can, dump it in a glass measuring cup, and nuke it for a minute. Big fat hairy deal! 
<pause while swampy runs to his fainting couch>
I think I was dubbed “Cookie”. I can’t remember my neighbors’ names, let alone those in this thread.
My other near-disaster T-day meal was when I cooked a traditional dinner for a Spanish family when I was stationed in Rota. It all was going just fine until I turned the oven on and put the bird in and then went for a walk with the lady I was interested in. We got about three blocks away when her sister came tearing after us and yelling excitedly. My Spanish wasn’t up to her speed, but I did hear “pavo” and “fuego” (turkey and burn). Ran back to her place to find smoke filling the house. Turns out, she never used the oven and didn’t realize that it only had two settings that worked: off and holy shit! I ended up cooking the bird by alternately turning the oven on, letting it heat to not smoking, turning it off, repeat for several hours. Yeah, it was dry.
Thank your for that!
I don’t have a gravy boat. I can put the gravy in a measuring cup. Not classy, but it’ll irk.
I got my new flatware already. I like the new stuff.
Now I have 10 forks, 10 knives, 10 spoons, 4 salad forks, and 16 teaspoons.
The new stuff matches the 12 extra teaspoons I bought a long time ago.
Still waiting for the new plates, then everything can go into the sidhwasher.
OK, since this happened a few weeks ago it’s not really Thanksgiving, but it involved pumpkin pies so…
The recipe called for a can of pumpkin, can of evaporated milk, etc. Mix up the filling, pour it in into the prepared crust, and then look at the recipe to see if it should be a 9" crust or 10" crust; it didn’t say. Of course I was using a 9" crust, which got filled to the very brim.
Carefully, oh so carefully, carried it to the oven, open the door with one hand while balancing the nearly-overflowing pie with the other, and gracefully bumped the pie against the oven door. About a third of it spilled onto the back of the 400-degree hot door and down the front of the oven below the door. It was too hot to wipe up immediately; I had to let the oven cool down enough to get the pumpkin goo wiped up off the door. Since this was the first of two overfilled pies, I poured a third of the second pie’s filling into an unlined baking dish, heated up the oven again, and then cooked the two (less-full) pies and the pumpkin mixture. (They all tasted fine.)
Next time: put the crust-lined pie tin in the oven on a foil-lined tray, then pour the mixture into the crust, so I don’t have to carry it and spill it.