Sweet potato pie. My family is from the South, y'all.
I’m a little late with my Thanksgiving Report. I know. Sorry about that.
So, yes. Thanksgiving! It was great. We had lots of friends and family over for dinner. They were thankful that I didn’t make them mince garlic. I have a tendency to do that to dinner guests.
Yes, I went into Fireworks and changed the name on
my place card from my real name to "Liz". Sue me.
I made garlic mashed potatoes. Twice. Within two hours. For the first batch I used Yukon Gold, and they came out way too sticky. Seriously- when you’re mashing your little heart out and all 75,000 potatoes are clinging to each other and climbing up the handle of the masher toward your hand like something out of a horror movie, your mashed potatoes have achieved world dominance and it’s best to just admit defeat and start over.
On the bright side, we will not need to buy spackle for quite a while.
So anyway, on Thanksgiving afternoon I made my sister go and buy another huge bag of potatoes (Russets, this time) and Potatoes: The Sequel came out just fine. Which, thank God, because I was wondering how I managed to screw up the least complicated dish on the menu.
Me, my pop, and my sis.
Sis looks babealicious. I look slightly dazed.
The Savory Bread Pudding was the crowd favorite. I tried to make it marginally less heart attack-inducing by using Egg Beaters in place of the eight required eggs. I also ran short on heavy cream and used a half cup of soy milk. Next time I’ll experiment with using a milk and half-and-half combo, because there will certainly be a next time. Everyone had seconds at dinner, and Mike almost sobbed when he realized that the leftovers would not stretch for days and days, as they apparently had in his dreams.
“Bread pudding.” he said sadly, staring into the empty dish. “Gone.”
And that was all he could manage, poor fellow.
The really nice thing about this dish is that you can make it a day ahead. I’ve decided that make-ahead is the key to my Thanksgiving sanity. This has probably been obvious to the world since the days of cooking the Thanksgiving rabbit over a campfire on the open prairie, but I guess I’m a slow learner. While cooking the 2005 and 2006 Thanksgiving dinners, I had no fewer than five pots and pans bubbling and hissing on the stove, full of things that had to be cooked minutes before serving. And I only have four burners, so I have no idea how that happened—there must have been some secret Harry Potterish nine-and-three-quarters burner that materialized in my moment of need. I’ve been trying to find it again ever since.
Are there any rich people out there who have huge, gourmet kitchens that they don’t appreciate and rarely use? You know, the ones with Viking ranges and double ovens and appliances dedicated solely to ice cube production? Send your kitchen to me. I swear to God, every single overpriced stainless steel contraption will be worshipped and put to good use.
Apparently, what I lack in enviable appliances and counter space I make up for in tools. My sister dubbed me the Kitchen Gadget Queen. She enjoyed crowing, “Go-Go-Gadget!” every time I pulled out my nut chopper or immersion blender or avocado slicer.
That title can’t possibly be accurate. I don’t yet own a Corn Zipper.
Although I must admit that I want one. Very badly.
You are SO the Kitchen Gadget Queen. Nyah, nyah!