22nd of November 2007: Thanksgiving
Well-slept but with Mark still dozing, Deidre and I enter the house to meet the folks. There's Geoff, Robin's quiet, boyish husband, always grinning and joking through a scrubby goatee, and Derek, Robin's son - although he's only 12 he's as tall as I am, solidly built under a bit of baby fat and clever beyond his years so it comes as a surprise when he occasionally slips into a pre-teen's confused silences and brief strops. He and Deidre are partners in crime of old (Robin lived just outside Vegas for a time) and are joyfully reunited.
On the back porch I'm introduced to Buddy, a cute beagle with friendly paddling paws, and there are three other dogs in an enclosure across the yard. Above the sky is perfect blue, and the air is clear and cold and almost wintry again. Back in the warm and spacious high-ceilinged living room Geoff is adding logs to a vigorous fire and the Macy's parade is on TV. In the open kitchen Robin, with a white ribbon in her hair, is assembling stuffing. It seems joyfully orchestrated, a perfect scene from a holiday special.
I sink happily into the embrace of the season.
Derek gives Deidre and I a demonstration of his developing trumpet skills, and we persuade him to come outside and play Reveille into the window of the trailer as we feel it's about time for Mark to be up and about. Through the morning more friends and relatives arrive, bringing a terrifying array of dishes, and once a sufficient number of men have arrived the beers come out - Miller Lights for most but Robin the unstoppable hospitality machine has stocked the trailer fridge with Guinness. And of course, after a couple of beers...it's time to deep-fry an enormous bird carcass.
No-one present has done this before, but everyone seems to have heard a horror story about someone burning their house down trying it, so the burner, propane tank and pot are located a cautious distance from the house and the cars in the middle of the yard. We stand around in the bright sun looking at the smoking metal cylinder as it slowly reaches 375 degrees F, and debating how badly burned Geoff is going to get putting the turkey in there. Finally the man of the house changes into disposable clothes, approaches the pot holding the marinated bird (impaled on its torturous metal frame) at arms length, and gingerly lowers it into the bubbling oil. Not a drop gets on him. With the interesting part of the process over we return to the house.
Slowly the makings of dinner come together as we sit and talk and circulate, and finally we gather around and begin to load our plates. The deep-fried turkey is amazing, juicy and tender all the way through and infused with the rich flavour of the Cajun butter. It's accompanied by a conventional turkey, a ham, mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, cornbread, yams (with marshmallows and orange juice) and rolls. To follow are pies (pecan, mincemeat, pumpkin and apple), pineapple upsidedown cake and pumpkin cake.
We eat until it's almost impossible to move, then most of us retire for a nap. When I rise again the sun is starting to go down, most of the friends and relatives have left and the fire is built up again. We sit around the fire and talk, and Derek carries on a running game of Madlibs until threatened with physical violence. We watch Talladega Nights, knock our slowly recovering digestive systems back down with turkey sandwiches and pie, and go back to bed enormously satisfied.
On the back porch I'm introduced to Buddy, a cute beagle with friendly paddling paws, and there are three other dogs in an enclosure across the yard. Above the sky is perfect blue, and the air is clear and cold and almost wintry again. Back in the warm and spacious high-ceilinged living room Geoff is adding logs to a vigorous fire and the Macy's parade is on TV. In the open kitchen Robin, with a white ribbon in her hair, is assembling stuffing. It seems joyfully orchestrated, a perfect scene from a holiday special.
I sink happily into the embrace of the season.
Derek gives Deidre and I a demonstration of his developing trumpet skills, and we persuade him to come outside and play Reveille into the window of the trailer as we feel it's about time for Mark to be up and about. Through the morning more friends and relatives arrive, bringing a terrifying array of dishes, and once a sufficient number of men have arrived the beers come out - Miller Lights for most but Robin the unstoppable hospitality machine has stocked the trailer fridge with Guinness. And of course, after a couple of beers...it's time to deep-fry an enormous bird carcass.
No-one present has done this before, but everyone seems to have heard a horror story about someone burning their house down trying it, so the burner, propane tank and pot are located a cautious distance from the house and the cars in the middle of the yard. We stand around in the bright sun looking at the smoking metal cylinder as it slowly reaches 375 degrees F, and debating how badly burned Geoff is going to get putting the turkey in there. Finally the man of the house changes into disposable clothes, approaches the pot holding the marinated bird (impaled on its torturous metal frame) at arms length, and gingerly lowers it into the bubbling oil. Not a drop gets on him. With the interesting part of the process over we return to the house.
Slowly the makings of dinner come together as we sit and talk and circulate, and finally we gather around and begin to load our plates. The deep-fried turkey is amazing, juicy and tender all the way through and infused with the rich flavour of the Cajun butter. It's accompanied by a conventional turkey, a ham, mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, cornbread, yams (with marshmallows and orange juice) and rolls. To follow are pies (pecan, mincemeat, pumpkin and apple), pineapple upsidedown cake and pumpkin cake.
We eat until it's almost impossible to move, then most of us retire for a nap. When I rise again the sun is starting to go down, most of the friends and relatives have left and the fire is built up again. We sit around the fire and talk, and Derek carries on a running game of Madlibs until threatened with physical violence. We watch Talladega Nights, knock our slowly recovering digestive systems back down with turkey sandwiches and pie, and go back to bed enormously satisfied.
Labels: arizona, deep-fried turkey, thanksgiving
posted by Mark at
09:38
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