Picture this, the first Thanksgiving that I am hosting. It is a big deal for me. In my mind this is the final step to becoming a “real” adult. My baby is almost a year old. We have been in our new house for just over a year. It is my first time hosting a major holiday. My first time cooking a turkey. Both our families are going to be coming over. My husbands mom and step-dad. My husbands sister with her 3 kids. My mom and step-dad. My brother and his new wife.
I got a recipe from the newspaper that guarantees that this will be the juiciest, tastiest turkey ever. I have mom’s recepie for mashed potatoes. They are a big deal with my family. Not EVER out of a box with just the right amount of butter (a lot) and a few spices. I want to make a good impression. I have been to the store 10 times to make sure everything is perfect. My mom has had 15 phone calls from me just today to answer questions regarding turkey cooking time, proper place settings, the validity of my existence, ect….
Dinner is made. The table is set. Everybody is seated around the table and eating. Everybody has told me how great the turkey is. I am the last to sit down and eat. I was running back and forth making sure everything was perfect. I told you how great I wanted this to be right? I finally have everything where it needs to be.
The turkey is so good. Moist and flavorful.
The gravy on the other hand was terrible. I ruined it and it ruined the potatoes. The recipe called for the juice of 10 lemons and let me tell you that gravy tasted like the juice of 10 lemons. I was horrified. I looked up at all my family and they were staring at me. I started to cry. My mother (bless her heart) took a big bite of potatoes and gravy and said. “I really like it!”. I looked at her and started to laugh. “It is terrible. But I love that you are lying for me!” The whole table (all 12 of them) blew out a sigh of relief. They started laughing with me.
Happy Thanksgiving from all of us at Sippy Cup.
Oh my I have almost the same story from one of our first dinner parties! All anyone who was there ever has to say is “salty apples” and we all crack up. I baked stuffed apples in a dish of rock salt like the recipe said… they were done early so I just turned the oven off and left them and did not take them out of the salt. All through dinner they cooled, and slowly sucked all the salt into their flesh. I was not the first to eat one and the faces around the table were hilarious! They literally tasted like salt lick and we all started laughing so hard we cried when I finally took a bite and spit it right back out.