ColumnConscious life, hear me roar.

The night before Thanksgiving, my family was safely tucked in their beds all under one roof. With my parents visiting for the holiday, we play a little bed scramble: My mom always takes my daughter’s bed upstairs, my daughter and I sleep in my bed, my husband sleeps on the couch, my son in his own bed and my dad, down in the guest room where he can snore his nostrils off in the peace of a well-insulated room.

At around 4 a.m. Thanksgiving morning, my mother came rushing into my bedroom and whispered that there was an ambulance out front. My room had become a carnival of lights swirling round. I jumped out of bed, threw on my winter boots and jacket, and ran out the door into the dark cold with tears already streaming down my face.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what was going on.

My neighbor, Imelda, is 91 and is at that point where sometimes she forgets our names, will tell the same story after five minutes and likes tight hugs where she never once did. This is a woman who has been a surrogate great-grandmother to my children for 13 years, has babysat, given me cups of flour and sugar and listened to me over coffee when I felt no one else would.

She is most certainly my friend, but fears for my life in the ever after as I have different beliefs from her. In fact, we’ve had a secret pact for years that whoever dies first has to do something like knock a book or a glass off a ledge to prove there’s an after life. She always laughs and says she knows she’ll go first but I tell her life is pretty random. You never know when a safe could be falling out a window…

In the cold, I stood at the foot of her gravel driveway, a place where we often meet and chat; moments later, her son (visiting from North Carolina) came out to brief me.

A basic need to use the bathroom had resulted in her falling, hitting her skull on a side bed table, striking open an artery and her son walking in to find his mother lying in a pool of blood – still trying to press her necklace that alerts people somewhere, that a 91-year-old woman needs help and might just die if they don’t come quick.

“They’re taking her to the hospital now,” he said looking at me for an answer.

If you’ve ever stood at night bathed in ambulance light, you might know that feeling of how fleeting life is – that we are always at the mercy of fate.

In that moment of cold, being half-asleep and looking from the outside in to her home, I felt such remorse for how busy I’ve been with work and family that I couldn’t have visited with her more the past six months just to sit and have coffee, bring her something hot to eat, play a hand of Gin Rummy and tease her that there’s no god.

Helpless, I walked across the street, kicked off my boots, hung my coat and snuggled back in with my daughter who was still sweetly sleeping and sighing in her dreams.

Later that morning, Imelda’s son came in to tell us that she was going to be all right, but remain in the hospital for a few days. That she was lucky. That she was as feisty as ever and wanted to go home.

When she does return, I will visit with her by her wood stove and make fun of her as she drinks whiskey from a styrofoam cup, while she deals me a weak hand and waxes passionately about why I need faith, need to stop leaving my family to go to New York City so much, need to put a new coat of paint on my house.

In the ticking of the warm room, I can look into her eyes knowing a secret. You see, one of her biggest dreams has always been that someone would find her interesting enough to write about; to know that she made an impact in this life that surpassed a girlhood in Grand Falls, New Brunswick where she married young, had five kids and “did her best.”

In this life, she has been everything to me, has never cared about my life as a fashion writer or editor, just that she matters to me.

This week’s column is dedicated to Imelda Morin, a 4’8″ woman from Canada who hates swearing, blasphemy and loose women.
Who I gave thanks to on Thursday at dinner, along with my entire family, that she’s still alive as you read this.

Between the Lines, is a weekly column navigating the sometimes-sharp, sometimes-blurred lines of life and culture between city and country.

Image: Horia Valdan

Put that leftover turkey to use.

In my family, the day after Thanksgiving means one thing, and it isn’t Black Friday. No, I’m talking about something far more fulfilling and far less damaging to your bank account: leftover turkey sandwiches.

Back home, we keep it simple. Turkey, dressing, and a few slices of organic whole wheat bread. But other post-turkey day eaters go nuts, throwing in avocado, gouda, and even the occasional waffle. Here, seven great turkey sandwiches from Foodspotting to inspire a little culinary creativity this day-after-Thanksgiving.

Turkey Sandwich @ Torrisi Italian Specialties

Turkey Avocado & Pesto Waffle Sandwich @ Dash Cafe

Turkey & Provolone Sandwich @ Jestine’s Kitchen

Smoked Turkey Sandwich @ Panera Bread 

Roasted Turkey And Gouda Sandwich @ Museum of Science

Turkey Pesto Sandwich @ Fresh Cafe 

Thanksgivin’ Dinner Burger @ PYT

In Foodspotting Friday we highlight one of Foodspotting’s – or our own – top picks from our Foodspotting guides. Be sure to check them out and tip us off to your own favorites in our Readers’ Picks guide. Want to start spotting food on your own? Join Foodspotting and take part in the food spotting revolution. It’s visual, it’s positive, it’s global and we are in love with it.

Images: Pei Ketron, ScottySauce, Lizz Spano, Eliahoo, Daynah, Moriza, Jedi Pearce, Ed Morita

Shop safely, America. But do shop.

The Christmas shopping season is almost upon us, ready to claw open our clamped, unwilling mouths and cram them so full with cheer that we collectively choke on our own merriment and saliva. Many retailers have maximized their potential hours of profit by opening their stores in the morning before closing the night before, including 80% coupons in the small plastic bag of giblets found in most frozen turkeys, chaining cashiers to their stations with lightweight chromium steel “efficiency tethers” and allowing would-be shoppers to sublet entire portions of parking lots for tent cities, RVs, and small condo shares.

Of course, you can and will do at least a portion of your holiday buying online, but the safe point-and-click of the Internet shopping cart carries with it none of the thrill of victory, or the savage pleasure that comes from hearing the pathetic, mewling shrieks of the defeated. Black Friday unites the twin American obsessions of waiting in line and staying inside, while elevating the act of purchasing bargain electronics to a savage yet sublime battle of wills. With that in mind, here are a few tips to ensure that this year you crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and hear the lamentation of their women. You know, secrets for shoppers.

10. Prepare for distractions and have an exit strategy. Let nothing deter you from achieving your goal. “Can you please move these trampled corpses out of the aisle? They’re blocking the Call of Duty display.”

9. Odds are that things will get violent, and that sooner rather than later. Bring a knife. They’re best for close-quarter combat situations, like jockeying for position in line at the Best Buy. A knife can also double as a box-cutter if you reach a display before the employees have had a chance to remove the products from their manufacturer’s casing, and of course, nothing’s going to push that mother of three away from your iPad 2 faster than a quick, lateral thrust to the kidneys.

8. Plan your route. Is it more practical to take your own vehicle, or commandeer somebody else’s once you take to the streets? If you take your own, you’ll have to do your own modifications, and active protection systems don’t grow on trees. What kind of self-propelled artillery will you need? Do you plan on plating your vehicle with composite armor or are you sticking with steel? Bearing in mind that every major transit artery will be blocked solid from now until January, does it make more sense to fund and develop helicopter support? These are things you should be thinking about now, not when you’re trying to navigate the fume-filled and gang-dominated blood mazes that once comprised your local downtown area. Of course, you may already live in Los Angeles.

7. Hydrate. Forget the Sunny D; these times call for Gatorade. Get it in you.

6. Shed your innocence. If you think you’re going to find a single parking space without screeching horrific obscenities at numerous elderly disabled veterans, then you don’t have the stomach for this. Why don’t you just stay home? You could order all your presents a week before the holidays and present everyone with a printed invoice (“So it was supposed to ship on the 22nd, but I guess something in the warehouse got tied up – anyhow, I hate to spoil the surprise, but here’s the receipt – you should be able to expect it by mid-January, the lady on the phone said”) or knit everyone an incredibly itchy scarf. Accept your limitations.

5. Hone your focus. What do eye contact, verbal speech, and the human ability to experience the feeling of mercy have in common? There is no place for them this day.

4. Remember that this is a marathon, not a 5k or even a half-marathon. Promotional sales have been extended over the last few years from Friday-only to cover the entire weekend. Some even begin on Thanksgiving Day, an absurd and tragic reminder of the arbitrary nature of brand pricing.

3. Multitask. Worried there may be a better deal online than what you’re being offered in the store? Oh, my friend, you had better believe that there is an app for that. Now you can shop online while you are shopping in person. Efficiency. Singularity. Unity. Soon, our gracious corporate overlords will find a way to make every day like Black Friday, and every technological device a potential Target. We’ll always be shopping. All things single, all things alike. It’ll be like the movie Groundhog Day, only real and wonderful and full of bottom-priced DVD box gift sets of Sex and the City with all nineteen movies and interactive Stanford Blatch-voiced Crocs.

2. Retain the element of surprise. Upon retiring for the evening, steal your family members’ cell phones (or alarm clocks, for the older set) and reset the time. Won’t they feel like suckers when they wander downstairs as late as 7 a.m. only to see you surrounded by your numerous purchases and covered in the blood of strangers.

1. Alternately, keep your head down, pick up a drink, and pray for January. Better make it two drinks, just to be safe. It’s going to be a long winter, but all winters eventually come to an end.

Image: afroboof

Thanksgiving dinner according to the glossies vs. how it really looks. 

We’ve all been to a great many Thanksgiving dinners with parents, extended family, friends, at home, and abroad.  We’re willing to bet these dinners ranged from all-you-can-eat buffet style feasts and formal sit down gatherings to camp stove cooking in the mountains and cross country drives. But according to glossy magazines, our Thanksgivings should be perfect like this:

Um, Martha. You didn’t mention that this was going to be a raw affair. Where’s the turkey?

Ah, cute. We’re having Cornish hen this year.

If you’re a Real Housewife of Beverly Hills, a table and turkey like that might fly. But if you’re celebrating Thanksgiving like the rest of us 99%, turkey day is messy, sloppy, disorganized, cluttered, always late, and occasionally vegetarian.

Take a look at the following series of photographs. Featured on the left are idealized Thanksgiving dinners sampled from leading designers, glossies, and Hollywood. On the right are actual people celebrating real life Thanksgivings.

In HGTV land where toddlers sit at tables entertaining themselves with sunflowers vs. real life where they whine, “Is it ready yet?”

A still from Funny People the movie vs. funny people in Akron.

“Oh you thought I was inviting you over to eat?” vs. sitting down to chow down with people that love you.

A table lined with decorative apples vs. a table lined with grandma’s tried and true recipes.

Better Homes and Gardens lighting vs. your mom’s house.

Martha Stewart vegan vs. edible vegetarian.

A Preston Bailey extravaganza vs. food people can really dig into.

Where carbs are not on the menu vs. a side of high fructose corn syrup.

No matter where you end up celebrating this year – whether in a glossy version or not  – we’d like to wish you a very happy Thanksgiving!

Images: Martha Stewart; Sweet Paul; HGTV; Snunemaker;  Editor B; Emily Barney; Snunemaker; The Purl Bee; Heather Kaiser; Eddie Ross; Better Homes and Gardens; Eddie Welker; Martha Stewart; Thomas Cizauskas; Lotus Haus/Preston Bailey; Brad Trump; Studio Ten 25; Buxtrosion

For Thanksgiving I found myself staying in a yurt near Jackson Hole, Wyoming. There was a small propane stove and no running water, but Thanksgiving is Thanksgiving and so we made a concerted effort to eat well.

The stuffing used locally baked pumpkin bread, the sweet potatoes were organic and made without a Cuisinart in sight, and I hand-chopped a cranberry relish. After not finding anything but absurdly cheap, huge frozen birds that surely came from the mass farms of nightmares, we accepted the fact that we would be without the Thanksgiving staple. Fine in our books, as no one was interested in eating “a depressed, fake bird,” as one friend put it. Fortunately, an organic, free-range, local bird was scored at the last minute.

Sitting in our woodstove-outfitted yurt filling ourselves with the bounty of a day of cooking felt perfectly normal. We were, after all, celebrating the most traditional of American holidays.

But apparently the scene was far from normal. In a weekend op-ed piece in The Washington Post, Brent Cunningham and Jane Black pose that the latest of culture wars is being fought in the culinary world, and that “many in this country who have access to good food and can afford it simply don’t think it’s important.” In other words, canned cranberry sauce over orange-infused reductions and Butterball turkeys over hand-plucked birds from the fair the next county over aren’t what the general population is making sure to put on the platter.

If you’ve determined that you’re concerned with good, healthy food it turns out that only might you be criticized for sticking your nose in the air, but you might just be plain old abnormal.

Even the queen of conventional tradition, Mrs. Sarah Palin herself, has taken it upon herself to give the finger to campaigns that would provide for healthier school food policies. If you don’t want your kids eating sweets at school you’re clearly bonkers.

In response to First Lady Michelle Obama’s Let’s Move program, which aims to reduce childhood obesity, Palin put it simply:

“Just leave us alone, get off our back and allow us as individuals to exercise our own God-given rights to make our own decisions and then our country gets back on the right track.”

I, too, like to make my own choices. Fresh over processed, local over trucked across a country, small farms over agribusiness. In other words, against the current cultural norm. However, when a large percentage of the population uses Palin’s self-described “rights” to buy government-subsidized food products predominantly made with high fructose corn syrup and proven to cause weight gain, maybe the idea of being “abnormal” isn’t so bad at all.

As Cunningham points out in his op-ed, “access to and the cost of ‘elite’ food isn’t beyond the budgets of many, perhaps most, Americans.”

So what will it take to make a cultural shift towards better food? Start by accepting the fact that abnormal isn’t necessarily a bad thing. And make sure your kids know it, too.

Editor’s note: This is the latest installment of Anna Brones’s column at EcoSalon, Foodie Underground. Each week, Anna will be taking a look at something new and different that’s taking place in the underground food movement, from supper clubs to mini markets to culinary avant garde.

This Thursday, as you gather round the table and devour your traditions, take a moment and offer a little ambiance to your guests of honor. As you prepare to verbalize your many blessings, set the stage (and table!) to celebrate. Here’s a heaping serving of inspiration on a silver platter – just in time for you platters of yams and pumpkin confections.

It seems the clever creatives at Sweet Paul have imagined a handful of stunning ideas to inspire your entertaining. When crisp winter intersects with harvest notions, the result is a gorgeous combination of pristine white and sultry pumpkin silhouettes (image above). Your culinary efforts are sure to glisten on this simple and elegant palette.

If you love the produce aisle and crave a little more color on your table, seek natural hues with interesting shapes to adorn your holiday gathering. Artichokes, beets, carrots, and radishes are vivid and lovely.

Or capitalize on Mother Nature with the habitual shades of amber and orange. Fall leaves can be gorgeous, as this natural setting with rich wood styling depicts.

If the saturated hues of the traditional feast are the beauty you want to highlight, add a dash of dignified blue and watch the edible harvest hues of the season gleam.

These gorgeous images are from the glossy (virtual) pages of Sweet Paul – both the Fall and Holiday issues. If you are still finalizing your menu, you will devour the recipes that accompany these visual feasts.

Still looking for the perfect details?  Lonny has a great feature on the most glamorous table setting ever.  And just in case you’re the type of host who craves order through seating arrangements, this pumpkin place card holder will bring the perfect allure to your table setting.

The autumn leaves are falling (or depending on where you are, have fallen), and it’s time for the ultimate comfort food meal – Thanksgiving dinner. Some prefer to make the same recipes every year, with a sense of tradition and a confidence gained through years of practice. On the other hand, it can be fun to experiment with new recipes to keep things interesting. Here are my favorite picks this year:

Turkey

Growing up, my family always swore by the Butterball turkey. Last year after doing some research, I decided to venture into new territory, which consisted of a kosher turkey from Trader Joe’s. Not exactly exotic, but I have to say, it was by far the best turkey year I remember. It was definitely much more flavorful than years past, and I don’t only attribute this to proper cooking and plenty of basting. (An electronic temperature gauge has done wonders to prevent over-cooking.)

No matter what your turkey cooking technique, starting with top-notch ingredients is key. I found this article “The Best Turkey: What’s Your Favorite” on serious eats discussing various recommendations, which I found illuminating. Still, if you’re looking to be more eco-conscious, this article from Simple Steps might help steer you in the right direction: “Organic, Heritage, Sustainable – When Talking Turkey, Does It Matter?.”

Cocktails

I’ve generally enjoyed wine or champagne on Thanksgiving. It’s festive to enjoy a drink, and let’s face it, often crucial for relieving any lingering holiday anxiety. I’ve never ventured into cocktail territory, but these cranberry cocktails from Bon Appetit really piqued my interest.

Soup

I’m a big fan of butternut squash soup. I’ve tried numerous recipes, and basically it’s hard to go wrong since butternut squash is so tasty. Many recipes call for lots of cream, but I actually prefer without. I ran across this recipe that sounds like a very easy and flavorful version on chowhound with the onion/carrot/celery base and apple cider for counterpoint.

I also found this roasted version from Cooking Light with ginger in the mix, which could be an excellent alternative, especially as roasting adds complexity: Roasted Butternut Squash and Shallot Soup.

Or if you want to go super simple, try this Carrot Ginger Soup recipe.

Stuffing

I’m a firm believer in making your own stuffing. The trick to any stuffing is not to add too much liquid. Soggy stuffing is not fun. If you’re looking for simple, straight-up stuffing, this recipe from tiny morsels looks ideal.

I happen to be fond of sausage in stuffing, although my boyfriend thinks it’s too rich (oddly, considering his love of sausage). I’ve tried this stuffing recipe from Cooking Light and have been a fan ever since: Sourdough Stuffing with Pears and Sausage. This stuffing recipe with chorizo from Food52 sounds delicious: Ciabatta Stuffing with Chorizo, Sweet Potato and Mushrooms.

Then again, this rye bread stuffing recipe with apples from Epicurious sounds especially enticing: Rye Bread Stuffing.

Gravy

Gravy can be a real source of stress around Thanksgiving time. According to the NY Times, Flavorful Gravy Makes Thanksgiving. Worries surrounding gravy seem fair enough to me. What if there aren’t enough drippings? What if we run out? Luckily, I’ve always managed to delegate the gravy making at my house, so I may not be the best consult on the subject. Most people I know seem to have a gravy recipe handed down from their mother or their mother’s mother. I poked around online and found numerous gravy recipes on Bon Appetit. Allrecipes has a more basic version that might be where it’s at.

Sides

I’d be hard pressed to abandon mashed potatoes on Thanksgiving. If you’re doing the traditional turkey with stuffing and gravy, mashed potatoes are a must. The main secret? Don’t skimp on the butter. Here’s a classic mashed potato recipe from chow. Personally, I’m a big fan of adding minced garlic and a touch of freshly grated Parmesan cheese to my mashed potatoes, along with chopped chives as a garnish. (And of course, don’t over-mash, unless you like eating glue.)

If you do want to branch out, this Whiskey Parsnip and Apple Puree could do the trick.

For other sides, the blog Food52 has a major run-down on Thanksgiving dishes. I usually choose to make some variation on green beans as I happen to love green beans and the color is a nice counterpoint to everything else. That said, I’m thinking of trying out a roasted root vegetables recipe this year. This version could be a good bet.

Cranberry Sauce

Yes, it’s true – I was witness to many a canned cranberry “log” in my younger days on Thanksgiving day. The funny thing is, fresh cranberry sauce is incredibly easy to make, and it’s so wonderful. I’ve honestly always followed the recipe on the back of the cranberry package. All you do is simmer the cranberries for about 10 minutes with sugar and add sliced oranges or cinnamon sticks if you like. I can’t imagine opting out of making this, unless you’ve run out of room on the stove top, are feeling stubborn, or just plain “over” additional side dishes altogether.

Here’s a version from Simple Recipes.

Dessert

Finally, it’s time for pumpkin pie! Dessert is the toughest choice on Thanksgiving because of the myriad of tantalizing options, mainly in the pie category (in keeping with tradition). One year we decided to have a pie taste-off since we couldn’t decide on what kind to make or agree on which type of crust is best. Four of us each made one: apple, apple-cranberry, pumpkin, and pecan – and then compared our styles. Of course, we all ended up voting on our own, but we certainly weren’t lacking in the dessert department!

Crust is important when it comes to pies. My favorite crust for apple pie is one I got from Cook’s Illustrated with the secret ingredient- vodka. Adding vodka makes the dough initially easier to roll out. But unlike water, it then completely evaporates during cooking, making a fantastically flaky crust. I found the recipe reviewed on kitchn. (I’ve never had issues with the dough being too sticky as they mention in their review.)

Apple pie is such a classic, that I found an entire website devoted only to apple pie recipes.

Here’s a Spice-Kissed Pumpkin Pie recipe from 101 Cookbooks that looks somewhat complicated but delicious.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Images: Lane & Anne, cynthiacloskey, Maggie Hoffman, mcb_smith, rfduck, jamesdkirk, Half Chinese, bethawia

In case you want a bird in your dining room this Thanksgiving, but not on your table – check out these ostrich lovelies from the distant (and more glamorous) cousin of the gobbler.

The Fiela Feather Light by Haldane Martin is a vision of spherical feathers to float over your dining room (or living room, or bedroom). The drama of gentle light filtered through feathers is palpable – if only it were on the menu at my house this year.

Two dimensional ostriches have lingered around EcoSalon before and they are still stunning. The avian wallpaper from Beware the Moon (available here) is a bold way to bring a bird (or seventeen ostriches) into your dining room this Thanksgiving (and of course, being the gracious host you are, invite them to stay year round).

(Photograph Credits: Image 1, Image 2)

Thanksgiving can be either a gluttonous extravagance, or one of the greenest holiday feasts.

Here’s why: One of the biggest contributors to greenhouse gasses is livestock production. Turkey is faster growing than cows, so it’s more efficient from a resource input point of view. Plus, turkeys don’t emit methane.

Another big contributor to greenhouse gasses is food waste. After Thanksgiving, we tend to eat our leftovers, using every spare scrap of food.

Other than the turkey and the cranberries, most Thanksgiving dishes are seasonal, plant-based foods that can typically grow anywhere. Potatoes, sweet potatoes, green beans, pumpkins, apples. See what I mean?

From an energy use perspective, we tend to use our ovens to capacity at Thanksgiving, which is much better than cooking small amounts of food.

You can enjoy your Thanksgiving guilt-free as long as you don’t waste any food. And this recipe will help you with that task!

Two-in-One Mashed Potatoes

Serves 6-8

2 pounds russet potatoes
2 pounds garnet sweet potatoes
3 whole garlic cloves, peeled and cut in half
1 teaspoon mustard seeds, lightly crushed with a mortar and pestle
2 cardamom pods, lightly crushed
1/2 cup half & half
1/2 cup creme fraiche (divided equally into two portions)
4 tablespoons butter, softened (divided equally into two portions)
Salt and pepper to taste

Peel the potatoes and sweet potatoes and cut them into 2-inch chunks. Bring two pots of salted water to a boil. Add the potatoes and the garlic to one pot and the sweet potatoes to the other. Boil both until tender.

Meanwhile, place the mustard seeds, cardamom pods and half & half in a small saucepan. Bring to a boil and simmer for one minute. Turn off the heat and set aside.

When the potatoes and sweet potatoes are tender, drain them well and place them in separate bowls. Strain half of the half & half into each bowl and then add half of the creme fraiche and butter to each. Add some salt and pepper to each bowl and mash the potatoes and sweet potatoes well, keeping them separate. If you like smoother potatoes, you may run them through a ricer or food mill. Taste each mixture and adjust salt and pepper.

To serve, place them side by side in the serving bowl and swirl them together in a pretty pattern.

Use organic, locally grown ingredients whenever possible.

Recipe Copyright Vanessa Barrington 2009

Each week here at EcoSalon, the editors choose a post from the archives that we think you’ll love. This original post can be found here.

Image: Dr. Hemmert



Men like to cook outside.

I know that sounds like a sweeping generalization – my only defense is that it’s absolutely true. I have lived with a man for 25 years and in that time I have learned a few things about the opposite sex. Being outside puts men in touch with their caveman roots; it lets them hark back to a time when their forefathers wore animal skins and cooked their prey over an open fire. Most guys will admit that cooking outdoors somehow elevates simple food preparation to a manly endeavor, right up there with belching and fantasy football. If you ask my husband to boil water for pasta he will sulk like a four-year-old being sent to his room. But if you ask him to throw hamburgers on a grill, his chest will puff up and he will take a primitive, Tarzan-like glee in preparing that meal. This is a man with two post-graduate degrees, and yet his inner monologue goes something like this: “Meat good. Bob like meat.”

For my husband Bob, the end of summer does not signal the end of outdoor cooking. He will bundle up in down jackets and thermal underwear in order to barbecue comfortably during the colder weather. And now, with Thanksgiving approaching, he’s begun gearing up for his favorite of all outdoor meals: deep-fried turkey. It was seven years ago that Bob first discovered the ultimate outdoor cooking gadget: a turkey fryer that can cook a bird in no time flat. It had to be set up in the backyard, due to a scary and inconvenient tendency to burst into flames. My husband followed the directions carefully, but a quick Thanksgiving grease fire still cost him a burnt wrist and 70 percent of his eyebrows.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. We had driven to two separate supermarkets to find enough peanut oil to fuel this propane-powered monster. After the turkey was cooked and eaten, my husband and I looked at each other over a sea of dirty oil and shared one of those completely empty marital thought bubbles, each of us realizing that we had no idea how to clean up the mess (I wonder – is that how Tony Hayward felt?) The next day, when we tried to leave 12 bottles of oil out with the garbage, we were informed that our town does not recycle or dispose of cooking oil – we were on our own.

Looking back, I have to admit that this was the best turkey that has ever been cooked in my home (well, on my property, anyway.) The flesh was moist and flavorful with a delectably crisp skin. It was the only Thanksgiving we ever had where the turkey itself outshone its sexier sidekicks of stuffing and sweet potato casserole. But when my husband proposed deep frying another holiday dinner this year, it occurred to me to ask what had happened to the oil from our previous bird. Sheepishly, Bob led me down the back porch steps, and showed me the space under the stairs where 12 bottles of peanut oil have been quietly residing since November 2003.

We still have no idea how to get rid of this oil. I fully expect that someday we will pack up those bottles and take them with us to some nice assisted living facility. In the meantime, there will be no fried turkey at my house this year. And for that I give thanks.

Image: jemsweb