Ah Thanksgiving. A holiday tradition that cuts right to the chase. No religion. No inedible rituals. A day that is all, and only, about eating, drinking, enjoying the company of loved ones, and watching tv. Clearly, this is something all three of us can support without reservation.
Little Miss and the Princess set up camp in Davis, while Yuan provided the lynchpins for basically a banquet in Mill Valley. His post is forthcoming. (That’s right Yuan, I called you out. Now you have to post your pictures.)
The photographic highlights of our foodie high holy day:
Bjorn bought a cast-iron dutch oven so he could make no-knead bread, using the New York Times recipe from a couple of years ago.
It was a breadmaking miracle! The results were perfect – crispy crust (ohhhh… symphony of crackle…), chewy interior with nice big bubbles and all the other things you want in a nice fresh loaf of bread (that I don’t know the names of. Something about a crumb. Don’t you judge me.).
We put Garrett and Bjorn to work on the green beans.
We brined the turkey overnight with salt, brown sugar, sage, thyme, orange peel, peppercorns, and a couple of bay leaves.
Mr. Turkey was not sacrificed in vain, for he was freakin’ delicious. His meat was juicy and flavorful, his skin crispy, his gravy luscious. And there was much rejoicing.
Incidentally, my arms and back are a little sore from hauling a 20-lb bird in and out of the oven. Some might take that as a sign they should go to the gym. I take it as a sign I should roast and eat more turkeys.
Bjorn made butternut squash soup with carrots, apples, ginger, thyme, and sage. It was rich but not heavy, the perfect balance of sweet and savory, intensely autumn.
Apple tart. Pastry by Stephanie, fruit mosaic by Lisa. Teamwork is delicious.
A trio of tarts: apple, pumpkin, and cranberry eggnog. Tart not pictured: your mom.
We found ourselves facing a happy ratio of one dessert for every two people/eaters/celebrants.
We performed admirably.