In The End, It's Not About The Food

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The Fog of Thanks

Slowly finding my way out of the fog of the holiday food coma is like coming to after a long night of drinking. I have vague memories of a general giddiness and bits and pieces of specific memories triggered by the photos below...

The plan

Everything went off without a hitch, on schedule.

Simultaneously, Mike made his his famous lasagna and tiramisu.

By 2pm, the house was cleaned. The table was set. Everyone had arrived on time with their assigned dishes intact (This Thanksgiving, we decided to go pot-luck.) . All was well. 

Dani, la donna of design, helped me to set the table 

I'd put out the appetitivi and amuse bouche, smoked rainbow and lake trout over creme fraiche and chives on chips.

I clearly remember putting out the butternut squash soup...

...but then it's all downhill from there...

I know that we ate in courses but each succession overwhelmed and erased all impressions of the last...

Jess and Dave brought out a beautiful radicchio salad with cranberries and walnut, perfect in color and texture and flavor for the day. 

Mom, enjoying said salad 

Then Michele upped the ante and knocked us all out, literally, when he put out his incredible lasagna. I remember perfectly al dente noodles and a creamy meat sauce and the wonderfully crisp texture of the slightly charred cheese on the top layer of the pasta. (No one had time, or the presence of mind to take of picture of it, unfortunately. The photo below is the best that I could do, and as you can see from the shaky quality and Michele's expression, we were all already high and disoriented from the food and the wine and the flavors and each other and the knowledge of all that was still yet to come.) 

This is literally the last clear impression I had before I was overcome by the wave of pure gluttony that we call Thanksgivng...

Papa Irv getting ready to go in on the turkey and ham. 

Ellen, Papa Irv, Ma, me, Mike, Ty, Eddie, Dani and Edna 

Dad

Eddie

My plate of rice and beans, mac and cheese, yams, collards, potato salad, kale salad and a dollop of ham atop turkey in the center of it all.

Even Sylvester was like, "Say what?!"

And the dream ended with red velvet...

...and sweet potato pie and tiramisu and banana pudding and cupcakes...

..and an earnest, "Good night!" from Ryan.

Shout Out to Gold Star

Prepping for Thanksgiving is mundane; lists and such are a bore, especially for the tried and true dishes made over and over again every year. The highlight of our mad dash around Bk for the holiday was a personal, and professional, trip to Gold Star in my hometown, Red Hook.

Gold Star lives in an indescript building in an industrial area, in the cut off of Court Street and on the other side of the Gowanus Expressway.

If you can find it you will be rewarded with the best smoked fish in the borough.

We picked up some rainbow trout for the restaurant this weekend and a purchased few whole fish for our festivities tomorrow. Can't wait.

The Countdown

It's on. Two weeks out from Thanksgiving and I am already beginning to panic, internally of course. I smiled graciously when Mike invited the family (twenty people!!) over in the first flush of excitement upon moving in to the new house. Three weeks later and we have only successfully finished painting one room. Countless unpacked boxes are laying in random places. A new stove sits in the foyer waiting for construction to be completed in the second kitchen upstairs.

Slowly but surely we are making progress but making this house a home is going to take a long time. Adding a major holiday to the drama of it all is daunting. I'm tempted to call it all off. But that's not the spirit of Thanksgiving. It is about celebrating the paint splattered floors and the piles of belongings yet to find their place in this new space. It is about gratitude for all that we have and sharing all that we have with the people we love most and inviting them to be a part of the process. No one on our guest list is coming here to judge us. I should take my ego out of this situation and all of the grandiose and unrealistic ideas about how things should be and just go with the flow. Doesn't mean I can't be just a little neurotic about the schedule of tasks I'd like to see completed by the 22nd. It just means that it's not the end of the world if we are not watching the Macy's Parade in a house that looks like a Nate Berkus ad. All will be well.