The Kid Has Arrived

In years past, I used to host these massive wine-fuelled 20 person Thanksgiving dinners for friends. I would make 3 or 4 pies, fresh biscuits, a whole spread. Ah, the follies of youth.

When Matt asked me a few weeks ago if I thought we should cook on Thanksgiving, I was in the midst of pregnancy-related morning/afternoon/all day sickness and the thought of cooking or eating made me want to die, so I think my answer was “I don’t give a rat’s ass.” Luckily for all of us, Matt ignored my bad attitude and made plans to cook a small but festive meal.

Despite all three of us being in the throes of a Fall cold, we did manage to have a small Thanksgiving celebration. My mom was in town for the day, and she helped keep the kid occupied so that we could do our carefully choreographed tiny-kitchen-dance. Matt made a turkey breast using the Torresi recipe, I made a cherry pie with a pate brisee crust (not the best crust recipe when your apartment is approximately 135 degrees), we made some stuffing using his grandma’s recipe that he loves, mashed potatoes, etc. It was nice, but exhausting.

After eating two green beans, spitting out the mashed potatoes, refusing the turkey, and gagging on the stuffing like it was poison, Milo had some cheerios for dinner. 

When I was pregnant with Milo, I vowed that my next pregnancy would begin in January, so I could drink through the holiday season. It’s unfortunate that my body ignored this plan. Cooking on Thanksgiving just isn’t the same without wine.