A small container of lumpy potatoes is all that remains of Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday.
Christmas promoters have been trying to overtake Thanksgiving for years. We had just finished counting our Halloween candy when one radio station started playing Christmas music 24/7 and an eager neighbor revealed an impressive display of Christmas lights.
In stubborn protection of Thanksgiving, we refused to hang our outdoor lights during the many calm and balmy November days. It wouldn’t be Christmas if we didn’t have to prop a ladder on icy sidewalks and wrestle with frozen lights in a brisk December wind.
So, our home was all gourds and leaves for our Thanksgiving gathering that included 11 adults and 7 children—a manageable number yet big enough to feel like a party.
I have a habit of underestimating these tasks and feeling more confident than I should. “I’m keeping it simple,” I tell myself. “Just the basics.”
I delegated the pies and stuffing, and a friend at work inspired me with a promising recipe for the most memorable turkey ever: a champagne turkey.
I’ve tried many methods for cooking gobblers – the bag, the deep fryer, soaking in brine. All have left me wanting. Surely, the champagne turkey would end my search. I looked forward to satisfied looks and glowing praise from guests after the first juicy bites of this succulent, flavorful turkey touched their lips.
My Food Network mentor, the Barefoot Contessa, inspired me to stay up late on Thanksgiving Eve to prepare the bird. Just like her, I would be ready in advance, a carefree host calmly offering my guests refreshing holiday drinks and laughing gaily with them rather than sweating in the kitchen.
At noon, everything was progressing as planned. Just a few more details and I would join the guests. I put the turkey in the oven in preparation for a 3:30 meal, fried bacon for salad, sautéed mushrooms for gravy and cleaned up the kitchen.
Two hours had passed so I checked the bird. The meat thermometer didn’t even register a temp. Weird. I turned the oven up to 400, poured myself a Kir Royale and went to work on more “final” details. Then I cleaned the kitchen.
At 3 p.m., the temperature had only advanced a few more degrees—so much for a 3:30 dinner. I poured myself a different champagne concoction and stole turkey drippings to make the gravy. Then I cleaned up the kitchen.
At 4:30 p.m., our kitchen looked like a bunch of college boys had been living in it for a month. The stove, island and counters were filled with prepared food or dirty pans. Every serving bowl and spoon we own was in use. And the turkey barely registered 150 degrees.
At this point, I decided guests could either suffer salmonella or have Thanksgiving dinner without turkey. Their choice.
I stomped downstairs and transferred title for the turkey to my husband. He retracted the recliner and dryly suggested we could order pizza (to the chuckles of all our guests.)
I threatened him with the sharp end of the meat thermometer.
He pulled the bird out of the oven, began carving it and declared, “Oh, it’s done. This is definitely done.” It wasn’t as dry as turkey jerky, but let’s just put it this way. There wasn’t any leftover gravy.
Thanksgiving is still my favorite holiday, but I’ve officially resigned as cooker of holiday meat. Santa, please bring my husband a new meat thermometer. I don’t want to eat pizza on Christmas Day.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Observations from the bleachers of the 2010 election
The election is over. North Dakotans, and most Americans, are sighing with relief. No more ads.
We’re all too familiar with the template:
Dark, sinister music plays. An ominous voice relates a list of dreadful misdeeds or characteristics. “This bad guy supports putting oil wells on stage at Medora’s Burning Hills Amphitheater.” “That bad guy votes with Satan, I mean Nancy Pelosi, 97 percent of the time.”
Cue bright, cheerful music and a upbeat voice expressing meaningless platitudes. “But ‘good guy’, he’s respected and trustworthy. He’ll hold the line on spending, care for seniors and bring home the bacon. He’ll ignore special interest groups -- except of course yours (wink wink).” He will. Honest. Believe me -- I’m a nameless person with a trustworthy voice being paid to say this.
The scripts are so dim and predictable it’s laughable. Campaign staffers even mock them.
I love politics, but today’s political landscape is discouraging. Leadership of our nation seems to have been reduced to an NFL football game, a perpetual rematch of Vikings versus Packers.
Rival teams struggle for field position, develop their strategies and occasionally steal plays from each other. Commentators scrutinize every fumble or touch down. The pundits, cheerleaders and a dwindling group of fans devour it. But a growing mass of spectators tunes it out.
Politics is supposed to be about policy. We elect people to develop laws that significantly affect our lives.
But political campaigns today, at least the part that reaches most people, are rarely about policy. It’s about personality. In order to simplify messages into 30-second ads, political parties and consultants brand the personalities involved.
In 2008 Bush was the “bad guy” roped around Republicans like a noose. This year, the Republicans copied this play and choked Democrats with Nancy Pelosi and Harry Reid.
Political consultants advocate strongly for these and other negative tactics. “They work,” they argue, and go back to writing talking points. I’ve long accepted this rational, but the endless assault of attack ads in North Dakota’s Congressional race – sometimes three or four in a row – left me wondering why. Why is this an acceptable?
I could give my kids Dramamine every night to make them sleep rather than struggle through the bedtime routine. I could start smoking to lose weight. We could open a new credit card and charge a family trip to Hawaii to help make winter more tolerable.
All of these tactics would solve the problems at hand, but that doesn’t make them responsible or smart.
So it is with negative ads – those that go beyond pointing out someone’s record to degrade their personality. “Be a man!” one recent North Dakota ad condemned. Maybe this “works” but it’s seriously undermining our political process.
Political consultants need to chart another path. Candidates must insist on it. The rest of the responsibility belongs to us. You know, we, the people.
Rather than relying on 30-second ads to inform us, we must invest some time, just a modest amount, to understand the background and experience of candidates. How are they qualified for the positions they want and where do they stand on issues that matter deeply to our American way of life.
The Internet is full of resources to do this. Think of it like making your own fantasy football team of political leaders.
Peace has returned to the airwaves for now, but it’s temporary.
Cue eerie music and creepy voice. “… We’ll be back … ”
The next election is just around the corner. Dare we hope it’s more positive?
We’re all too familiar with the template:
Dark, sinister music plays. An ominous voice relates a list of dreadful misdeeds or characteristics. “This bad guy supports putting oil wells on stage at Medora’s Burning Hills Amphitheater.” “That bad guy votes with Satan, I mean Nancy Pelosi, 97 percent of the time.”
Cue bright, cheerful music and a upbeat voice expressing meaningless platitudes. “But ‘good guy’, he’s respected and trustworthy. He’ll hold the line on spending, care for seniors and bring home the bacon. He’ll ignore special interest groups -- except of course yours (wink wink).” He will. Honest. Believe me -- I’m a nameless person with a trustworthy voice being paid to say this.
The scripts are so dim and predictable it’s laughable. Campaign staffers even mock them.
I love politics, but today’s political landscape is discouraging. Leadership of our nation seems to have been reduced to an NFL football game, a perpetual rematch of Vikings versus Packers.
Rival teams struggle for field position, develop their strategies and occasionally steal plays from each other. Commentators scrutinize every fumble or touch down. The pundits, cheerleaders and a dwindling group of fans devour it. But a growing mass of spectators tunes it out.
Politics is supposed to be about policy. We elect people to develop laws that significantly affect our lives.
But political campaigns today, at least the part that reaches most people, are rarely about policy. It’s about personality. In order to simplify messages into 30-second ads, political parties and consultants brand the personalities involved.
In 2008 Bush was the “bad guy” roped around Republicans like a noose. This year, the Republicans copied this play and choked Democrats with Nancy Pelosi and Harry Reid.
Political consultants advocate strongly for these and other negative tactics. “They work,” they argue, and go back to writing talking points. I’ve long accepted this rational, but the endless assault of attack ads in North Dakota’s Congressional race – sometimes three or four in a row – left me wondering why. Why is this an acceptable?
I could give my kids Dramamine every night to make them sleep rather than struggle through the bedtime routine. I could start smoking to lose weight. We could open a new credit card and charge a family trip to Hawaii to help make winter more tolerable.
All of these tactics would solve the problems at hand, but that doesn’t make them responsible or smart.
So it is with negative ads – those that go beyond pointing out someone’s record to degrade their personality. “Be a man!” one recent North Dakota ad condemned. Maybe this “works” but it’s seriously undermining our political process.
Political consultants need to chart another path. Candidates must insist on it. The rest of the responsibility belongs to us. You know, we, the people.
Rather than relying on 30-second ads to inform us, we must invest some time, just a modest amount, to understand the background and experience of candidates. How are they qualified for the positions they want and where do they stand on issues that matter deeply to our American way of life.
The Internet is full of resources to do this. Think of it like making your own fantasy football team of political leaders.
Peace has returned to the airwaves for now, but it’s temporary.
Cue eerie music and creepy voice. “… We’ll be back … ”
The next election is just around the corner. Dare we hope it’s more positive?
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