There are many stories of the First Thanksgiving. The pilgrims came over on the Mayflower and made friends with the Indians. You remember your first Thanksgiving as a husband and wife or as a family with your first child. But this one was the most special. *I* made dinner.
For many reasons we decided to hide at home this year. But since I am due to test I wanted to stay busy. So I decided to make all of Thanksgiving dinner. It started Tuesday night with 3 pumpkin pies from scratch, crust and all. It is the kids great-grandmothers recipe and I spent the entire few hours baking thinking of her, her wonderful son (my father-in-law) up in heaven watching over my sons. I called her the next morning thanking her once again for the recipe.
Wednesday morning I took out my largest pot and realized it was too small for the turkey brine, so I used two pots and put began to dump in the strangest ingredients; apple juice, orange peel, black peppercorns, cloves. It looked like a grainy soup. It cooled several hours later and I had the pleasure of sticking my hand inside a turkey for the first time. Yuck! We washed it all off and after a little surgery, poking, proding, taping and tying the turkey was safe it its bath of brine for 18 hours.
Thursday morning became hectic as I readied the children for church and the turkey for the oven. We got it into a roasting bag and into the oven a few minutes before church, but by then only half of us were dressed. So my daughter and I went to church together.
We walked into the house and smelled the turkey. It was awesome. I was ready to eat. Not yet, 4 hours left. I just got progressively hungry all day. Nothing except turkey would satisfy me! Finally, it was time to check the turkey. It was perfect. I was so proud as that brown turkey came out of the oven. Beautiful, juicy, and flavorful. The last time I felt such pride was when I found out I was pregnant or that my son was "a boy!"
Dinner was fantastic and I enjoyed being home eating my favorite foods. Instead of at a relatives monitoring my children from hurting themselves or breaking something looking at the clock and waiting to drive through traffic. I think this may be our new family tradition. Turkey at home.