Happy Thanksgiving!

[Angeline]

To all my dear poets who are celebrating this Thurdsday, hope it's a good one! Who's cooking? What are you making? Who's travelling? If you are, stay safe. I'm thankful for all of you.

eagleyez and I are cooking, just for us on Thursday and then Friday his boys will come over to celebrate with us. Here's what we're making:

Roast Turkey (ee make it; he does goood turkey, but I make the gravy and all the other food)

Baked stuffing with sausage

Roasted butternut squash (with cinnamon, walnuts and Maine maple syrup)

Cranberry sauce (homemade with chopped oranges and walnuts)

Scalloped potatos

Green beans and mushrooms

Buttermilk biscuits

For dessert, caramel apple cheesecake and pumpkin pie

Whew!

Got any recipes you want to share? Want any of my recipes? Wanna write a poem or leave a memory of Thanksgiving in this thread? Started you holiday shopping yet?

Happy, happy poets.

 

[champagne1982]

To all my dear poets who are celebrating this Thurdsday, hope it's a good one! Who's cooking? What are you making? Who's travelling? If you are, stay safe. I'm thankful for all of you.

eagleyez and I are cooking, just for us on Thursday and then Friday his boys will come over to celebrate with us. Here's what we're making:

Roast Turkey (ee make it; he does goood turkey, but I make the gravy and all the other food)

Baked stuffing with sausage

Roasted butternut squash (with cinnamon, walnuts and Maine maple syrup)

Cranberry sauce (homemade with chopped oranges and walnuts)

Scalloped potatos

Green beans and mushrooms

Buttermilk biscuits

For dessert, caramel apple cheesecake and pumpkin pie

Whew!

Got any recipes you want to share? Want any of my recipes? Wanna write a poem or leave a memory of Thanksgiving in this thread? Started you holiday shopping yet?

Happy, happy poets.

As you know, our thanksgiving was about a month ago but, what we ate was delicious. Broccolli Cheddar soup; Roast Beef (that's an Albertan for ya ) whipped potatoes; steamed, whole, green beans tossed in butter and roasted pine nuts; baby carrots; and for dessert - fresh baked apple pie.

I wish all of you fun and joy in your holiday and hope you have a successful launch into the festive season. Be safe and please, don't you, or let anyone you know, drink and drive.

 

[Angeline]

As you know, our thanksgiving was about a month ago but, what we ate was delicious. Broccolli Cheddar soup; Roast Beef (that's an Albertan for ya ) whipped potatoes; steamed, whole, green beans tossed in butter and roasted pine nuts; baby carrots; and for dessert - fresh baked apple pie.

I wish all of you fun and joy in your holiday and hope you have a successful launch into the festive season. Be safe and please, don't you, or let anyone you know, drink and drive.

Mmmm, those pine nuts sound good. Think I'll add them to the green bean mushroom dish.

And ditto on the drinking and driving!

 

[WickedEve]

My Thanksgiving will start out earlier in the day with my kids and parents. My mom cooks. She makes the same thing every year. It may not taste all that good but when it's all over with, you know you've got something heavy in your stomach.

Then Hugo and I will get together later that day. Still trying to decide which house we're doing it at. He can cook. Thank god. He seems really excited about making gravy. He puts gravy on everything.

The day after Thanksgiving, I will be spending a week on my broth diet.

 

[Tzara]

I don't cook, at least on Thanksgiving. I set table, keep the fire going, and do almost all of the clean-up. My back is usually killing me by the end of the day from bending over the kitchen sink washing dishes. We have friends and family over to our house with the usual things: turkey, gravy, stuffing, mashed potatoes, rolls, various kinds of vegetables. Our friends do different kinds of main dishes--grilled turkey, deep-fried turkey (I thought he was going to burn our house down). This year I think it is smoked duck. My mom makes various kinds of pie, usually pumpkin, chocolate, and lemon merengue.

We all watch football on TV and try to keep the dog from eating too much.

Then on Friday my wife and I kick back in front of the fire and watch movies all day.

 

[Angeline]

My Thanksgiving will start out earlier in the day with my kids and parents. My mom cooks. She makes the same thing every year. It may not taste all that good but when it's all over with, you know you've got something heavy in your stomach.

Then Hugo and I will get together later that day. Still trying to decide which house we're doing it at. He can cook. Thank god. He seems really excited about making gravy. He puts gravy on everything.

The day after Thanksgiving, I will be spending a week on my broth diet.

Your mother's cooking sounds a lot like mine. She could reduce anything she cooked to the consistency of overboiled potato. In fact, my childhood seems, in retrospect, like an unending supply of overcooked brisket and potatoes. Yeccch! It took me years to realize that one can cook light and that vegetables don't have to come out of a can. And that there are these amazing things called steamers that you can use with >gasp< fresh vegetables.

And what is my mother's response to my current cookitude? She says "She's makhn a tsimes fun," which is Yiddish for "too much fuss," basically. And she always says "She" and rolls her eyes even though I'm right there and the um imaginary person she's telling isn't. lol.

 

[The_Fool]

This year is a smoked turkey, cornbread dressing, mashed potatoes, gravy, green bean casserole, "butt" dinner rolls, pumpkin pie, pecan pie, homemade cinnamon raison bread and whatever else strikes our fancy.


Maybe some hummus. tabouli. I dunno.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

I have extraordinarily fond memories of my father's family holidays. We actually had a really good time at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Those days were peaceable, kind, amiable and filled with generosity and good company. I am very grateful for those memories. I don't know how many people can say that.

In thinking back, I've chosen some lessons from them that have guided my own holidays, and made them just as rewarding as those of my childhood.

- have MASSIVE amounts of good food, all day long. Eat. Constantly.

- invite guests so you have to behave yourselves

- in gentle and judicious applications, apply the following holiday beverage:

Grandma "Olafson's" Whiskey Sour

frozen pink lemonade
whiskey (cheap is fine)
7-Up

Into a blender, pour the lemonade mix, then instead of water add 1 can of whiskey and 2 of 7-Up. Blend. Serve over ice, VERY cold.

Grandma is my hero. She's 93 now and could still kick my ass in about 2 minutes. And drink me under the table in an hour. Asked recently about a gentleman of 88 who had shown a certain interest in her, she snorted derisively, "That old man?"

Then there's Glogg.

When I turned 16, i was finally allowed to smell the glogg - actually put my face over the simmering pot and inhale. I was drunk for 20 minutes. Not until I was 20 was I allowed to actually taste it.

I can't give you the family recipe. Grandma would behead me. But here's something similar.

Ingredients:
2.25 cups port wine
2.25 cups red wine
1 cup water
1/2 cup sugar
1 stick cinnamon
1 small piece of fresh ginger
6 cloves
6 whole cardamom pods
1 sliced orange
1 cup brandy or aquavit
Directions:
Combine port wine, red wine, water and sugar in a pan over low heat. Tie the spices into a piece of cheesecloth and hit it with a mallet until bruised. Put spice bag and orange into the wine mixture and simmer just below the boiling point for 15 minutes. Remove the spices and pour brandy into the hot mixture. Light very carefully and flame.

Used appropriately, Glogg can turn your regular family members into complete saints, for whom you would give your life. And that's as it should be.

peace, and happy Turkey Day
bijou

 

[DeepAsleep]

I have extraordinarily fond memories of my father's family holidays. We actually had a really good time at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Those days were peaceable, kind, amiable and filled with generosity and good company. I am very grateful for those memories. I don't know how many people can say that.

In thinking back, I've chosen some lessons from them that have guided my own holidays, and made them just as rewarding as those of my childhood.

- have MASSIVE amounts of good food, all day long. Eat. Constantly.

- invite guests so you have to behave yourselves

- in gentle and judicious applications, apply the following holiday beverage:

Grandma "Olafson's" Whiskey Sour

frozen pink lemonade
whiskey (cheap is fine)
7-Up

Into a blender, pour the lemonade mix, then instead of water add 1 can of whiskey and 2 of 7-Up. Blend. Serve over ice, VERY cold.

Grandma is my hero. She's 93 now and could still kick my ass in about 2 minutes. And drink me under the table in an hour. Asked recently about a gentleman of 88 who had shown a certain interest in her, she snorted derisively, "That old man?"

Then there's Glogg.

When I turned 16, i was finally allowed to smell the glogg - actually put my face over the simmering pot and inhale. I was drunk for 20 minutes. Not until I was 20 was I allowed to actually taste it.

I can't give you the family recipe. Grandma would behead me. But here's something similar.

Ingredients:
2.25 cups port wine
2.25 cups red wine
1 cup water
1/2 cup sugar
1 stick cinnamon
1 small piece of fresh ginger
6 cloves
6 whole cardamom pods
1 sliced orange
1 cup brandy or aquavit
Directions:
Combine port wine, red wine, water and sugar in a pan over low heat. Tie the spices into a piece of cheesecloth and hit it with a mallet until bruised. Put spice bag and orange into the wine mixture and simmer just below the boiling point for 15 minutes. Remove the spices and pour brandy into the hot mixture. Light very carefully and flame.

Used appropriately, Glogg can turn your regular family members into complete saints, for whom you would give your life. And that's as it should be.

peace, and happy Turkey Day
bijou

We made a version of Glogg when I lived at the Fake Street house:

2 bottles port wine
1 bottle Wild Turkey
2 Bags "Mulling Spyce"

Bring to boil, light on fire - twice, all told, serve warm, vomit into bushes, punch your friends while wearing a viking hat.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Bring to boil, light on fire - twice, all told, serve warm, vomit into bushes, punch your friends while wearing a viking hat.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

bwah!

Pomegranate Juice Fu!
arg!

bj

 

[DeepAsleep]

bwah!

Pomegranate Juice Fu!
arg!

bj

I'm not sure if that's a challenge, or an agreement.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

I'm not sure if that's a challenge, or an agreement.

It means that you are responsible for my adding pomegranate juice to the lengthy list of things that have ended up in my sinuses or spewed onto my keyboard as a result of reading this board.

Viking hats? Hell yeah I agree.

bj

 

[DeepAsleep]

It means that you are responsible for my adding pomegranate juice to the lengthy list of things that have ended up in my sinuses or spewed onto my keyboard as a result of reading this board.

Viking hats? Hell yeah I agree.

bj

Well, it's like this:

We had a hat, fur trimmed and leather, from which depended two curled ram horns made of foam. With this hat on, various shenanigans were expected:

Rock and Roll Alarm Clock Drum Solo (Wildly drunk, 3am, tuesday, Myself with helmet, on The Scullery Drums - think, "Drumset" but then add two hotwelded shopping carts to which have been bolted propane tanks, the blades of circular saws, random chunks of rebar, the mutilated remains of a windchime, a bronze crucifix, and bottle caps to which we screwed new liqour bottles as the old ones broke. Middle Tom features the stretched remains of a leather jacket, rather than a drum head, which sounds more like shit than I can relate without a recording.)

I Know Better Kung Fu Than You, And To Prove It, I'll Drink This Bottle Of Sake Evening Deathmatch (Paul, with helmet and berserker fury, myself with bamboo Kendo sword, Eric weilding a fisher-price keytar like a new wave El-Kabong, each with a bottle of Geikkekan and a penchant for roaring battle cries that sound suspiciously like, "Douche, For Thy Pussy Smells Like Someone Is Fileting Fish In A Copper Refinery!")

Invent Your Own Form Of Divination Drunken Bingo-Night And Chikken Fry (Paul, with helmet, eats two cans of Alphabet Soup, without chewing, and sticks his finger down his throat; witness, the birth of Regurgemancy. Best Message found: "NO PIE
RUST")

Walpurgisnacht Means Punch Your Friends! (In Which The Hat, A horn of Mead and an enormous stockpot full of Glogg are passed around a circle, until I get it into my head that slapping Paul as hard as I can would be the epitome of Hilarious - Which, while being correct, is also an invitation to Paul (whose tendency towards... shall we say, "Escalation" is LEGEND) to punch me in the eye, which leads to a broken coffeetable and uproarious laughter all around.)

Build An Altar To Bellona And Make Your Roommates Uncomfortable (Or, "In Crashing Our Own Houseparty, We Sacrificed a Pound of Hamburger to a Goetic Demon, Threw Darts, Had Satanburgers, And Pissed Off Our Other Three Roommates, Their Straightlaced Friends, The Neighbors, And At Least Two Cops") - In which Alyssa, Hannah and Mike invite their friends over for a dinner/cocktail party and Paul, Eric and I, accompanied by Jack Daniels, Shlitz and (Sir Alec) Guinness (Each wearing felt fedoras, until Eric brings out The Helm) paint a pentagram on the circular glass dinner table, wearing, between us, bathrobes, a plastic halloween cape, The Vestie (<---A singular item of clothing that deserves its own story) and either highheels or combat boots. Hamburger is acquired. Chants are chanted. Guests are encouraged to slather themselves with the Blood of The Meat.

....Oh, to be young and full of whiskey.

I feel boring, these days.

~R

 

[Angeline]

We had most Thanksgiving dinners at my Uncle Lennie's and Aunt Zelma's. Lennie told knock-knock jokes and chewed a lot of gum. Zelma was six feet tall but two feet of that was blazing orange hair. My sister and I ate at the kids' table with my cousin Neal. Neal threw peas in his milk and played lookie. Oy.

Memories die hard. I wrote this poem in 2002. At the time, it felt like primal scream therapy.

Neal

Although I am the first to say that pacifistic
is the way to be. And, dang, I'll protest
any war, violence is so not me, although
I do confess there is this tiny hate thing
that I must address. And I don't hate
just anyone, for I despise the sea
of vast and murky generality
in which we swim, and I am loud
in my decry of unfair treatment
anywhere! I even want the wrongs
against the whales and such redressed.

(Ok. I’m beating round the bush.)
I’ll say it. Spit it out, admit it,
tell the tale right here.
I now this truth to all the world reveal:
I really hate my cousin Neal.

Hate's a damn strong word
and I don't mean to sound so wacky
or absurdly focused on some kid
who's now a man and whom in spite
of the desire of my id to murder right now
on the spot, I haven't even seen,
not for so many years, and it is equally
as many since I cried the bitter tears
that came each year when being told
on turkey day AGAIN I wasn’t old
enough to stay with the adults,
but had to sit at the kid table next
to Neal, suffer the ordeal of watching
as he mooshed the food together
on his plate, try hard not to look
at all that squishy icky chewed up stuff
hangin in that mouth he never shut.

And then that awful early summer day,
the last of grade 3, walking home, I looked
and saw two figures walking toward me,
Momma and the antichrist of cousins
come to stay for two whole weeks,
to use the bottom bunk. Oh yes
it was bad when every night he kicked
my mattress from beneath, jolted me
awake until I got so mad I jumped
down, shoved my pillow on his head!

And…oh.

You think I killed him? Think Neal’s dead?
Nah. I only scared him, just enough
until he fled and bothered me no more.
Look, hate is one bad sore affliction
that one night almost made old Neal
say hello to his little fate. (Although,
in retrospect I have to say good
God a'mighty, it felt great.)

I’m ok now. I really am. I’m grown
and I have children of my own. I try
to live with patience, try to live
the art of compromise. I do
believe that I can recognize
the difference between ancient anger
in my head and what is real,
(but listen, keep this to yourself ok?)

I hate my cousin Neal.

***************************

Here's to you Neal wherever you are. Hope you learned to close your mouth.

 

[Tathagata]

Well, it's like this:


I Know Better Kung Fu Than You, And To Prove It, I'll Drink This Bottle Of Sake Evening Deathmatch (Paul, with helmet and berserker fury, myself with bamboo Kendo sword, Eric weilding a fisher-price keytar like a new wave El-Kabong, each with a bottle of Geikkekan and a penchant for roaring battle cries that sound suspiciously like, "Douche, For Thy Pussy Smells Like Someone Is Fileting Fish In A Copper Refinery!")

Walpurgisnacht Means Punch Your Friends! (In Which The Hat, A horn of Mead and an enormous stockpot full of Glogg are passed around a circle, until I get it into my head that slapping Paul as hard as I can would be the epitome of Hilarious - Which, while being correct, is also an invitation to Paul (whose tendency towards... shall we say, "Escalation" is LEGEND) to punch me in the eye, which leads to a broken coffeetable and uproarious laughter all around.)


....Oh, to be young and full of whiskey.

I feel boring, these days.

~R

These bring back memories that I'm sure I've shared a few million times on some thread
Having a friend close enough to join you, put up with you, and inspire this kind of thing is a rare gift.
Treasure it.
I used to randomly attack my friend Dave in parking lots yelling " Monkey Time"
while throwing spin kicks at his head.
I miss that shit.

 

[Tathagata]

Thanksgiving is at my brother Chris's house
It's a historical home, built in the 30's that he shares with his partner, Tim.
It's part Liberace and part art museum
A very cool place to hang out, 3 floors of paintings, sculpture, knic knacks, glitz, brass, velour etc.
The dining room still has the " foot bell" under the table to summon the next course
and the servants quarters on the 3rd floor is a meditation room.

He is cooking the main meal and won't tell us too much about it
He and Tim don't eat red meat or sweets so...
His cooking resembles his decor so I'm sure it won't be the " usual" stuff.

I'm bringing a fat free/ sugar free pumpkin custard( yeah I know...but after years of boiled dinners we are all watching our health) and 3 bottle of wine ( hopefully the new Beaujolais is out)

 

[Angeline]

Thanksgiving is at my brother Chris's house
It's a historical home, built in the 30's that he shares with his partner, Tim.
It's part Liberace and part art museum
A very cool place to hang out, 3 floors of paintings, sculpture, knic knacks, glitz, brass, velour etc.
The dining room still has the " foot bell" under the table to summon the next course
and the servants quarters on the 3rd floor is a meditation room.

He is cooking the main meal and won't tell us too much about it
He and Tim don't eat red meat or sweets so...
His cooking resembles his decor so I'm sure it won't be the " usual" stuff.

I'm bringing a fat free/ sugar free pumpkin custard( yeah I know...but after years of boiled dinners we are all watching our health) and 3 bottle of wine ( hopefully the new Beaujolais is out)

Oh I want a footbell! I'd only be asking myself what I could get myself, but it'd be cool.

 

[darkmaas]

Angeline wrote:

Oh I want a footbell! I'd only be asking myself what I could get myself, but it'd be cool.

Now surely with a bit of training you could get EE to at least salivate a bit...

 

[Angeline]

Angeline wrote:

Now surely with a bit of training you could get EE to at least salivate a bit...

I don't want him salivating too much. He has a bad habit of sneaking into the kitchen and filching tastes.

I'm making a pear and almond tart today, too. I see drool in his future. (<----- just for you)

 

[WickedEve]

(<----- just for you)

Ack! Who reduced you to posting a dancing banana? Cook that thing for Thanksgiving!

 

[Angeline]

Ack! Who reduced you to posting a dancing banana? Cook that thing for Thanksgiving!

It was darkmaas's fault.

 

[WickedEve]

It was darkmaas's fault.

Ah, yes, the darkbanana of literotica.

 

[Tathagata]

Ah, yes, the darkbanana of literotica.

is that like the black sheep of the family?

 

[WickedEve]

is that like the black sheep of the family?

black sheep, dark banana, murky monkey, it's all the same.

 

[darkmaas]

Darkbaanaana flambe´

Recipe for darkbaanaana:

1 large (or two small if less than 6". Size matters.)
1/4 cup maple syrup
1/2 cup cheap whiskey (rye or bourbon) for the baanaana
26 oz single malt for the chef and any hangers-on around the kitchen.

First catch your dancing baanaana. Pull off the skinny legs and arms. This will wipe the silly grin from his skin. Gently tease him from his yellow skin. You will now have something longer than it is wide. This is a good time for a wee taste of the single malt and a few phallus jokes.

Roast in a 300° oven basting with the maple sugar every few minutes. Alternate bastings with another dram of single malt and lewder jokes. If there are men present- more single malt and suggestive phallic reminders as the baanaana gets progressively more flaccid and wrinkles under the heat.

Continue until the baanaana is a dark golden brown or the single malt runs out.

Remove from the oven and drizzle with the cheap whiskey and light.

Cut and serve immediately to any left standing in the kitchen.

Enjoy.

::