This was the first time we’d all been together since Mom died in April, 2020. Covid had kept us apart–no funeral, no mourning together–so this day was especially important. The first Thanksgiving in two years!
I didn’t care if we had to eat in the basement living area or upstairs, in the middle of a mess. Thanksgiving would happen.
We did rearrange the gallons of paint left behind for the next step, hiding a five-gallon bucket behind a chair and storing the rest in the bathroom shower stall. Nancy came early and set the tables and made many trips to the downstairs refrigerator. Banjo Man cleaned.
There were a few blips. I followed the “roasting turkey breasts” directions from an tv episode of “America’s Test Kitchen”. Banjo Man cut the backbone out of the breasts, just the way it was done on tv. I dry-brined them. They were roasted at 325 for an hour and a half, until the inner temp reached 130. Then the oven temp was raised to 500 degrees so the skin could get crispy and brown and the inner temp could reach 165.
There was no smoke, but the smoke alarm had a nervous breakdown and absolutely wouldn’t stop screaming. The windows and doors were opened, which made no difference. Finally Banjo Man went out to the shed for a fan, which he aimed at the alarm. Success!
And the new carving method with the electric bread knife? Worked perfectly.
Blip #2? No juice for the gravy!! I’d assumed there would be from the breasts, but…nope. On the tv show the chef had roasted turkey legs with chopped vegetables, then drained the whole thing to get eight cups of broth…done two days ahead of Thanksgiving.
I’d unfortunately skipped that part (you saw the pictures of my house, right?).
So the turkey gravy tasted like chicken gravy and wasn’t exactly fabulous.
But everything else was yummy and we ate our fill, even scraping the bottom of the green bean casserole dish where there wasn’t a green bean left. Ha!
to be continued…