It’s not yet Thanksgiving as I write this, so I’m still looking forward to the turkey and mashed potatoes and gravy and stuffing and rolls.
I expect by tomorrow though, I’ll be done with turkey, except for turkey soup.
Stud muffin boils the carcass with carrots, celery, and onion for a stock. Then adds the bits of shredded turkey that’s left, along with a grain of some sort. I think the best one we’ve tried with the turkey is barley.
The barley is nutty and adds a depth of richness to what would otherwise be a pretty plain and basic broth.
My mom is a charter member of the Start-the-Turkey-in-the-Middle-of-the-Night Club. Since it’s a well-known fact that turkeys take ten hours, give or take, to roast, I considered Mom brilliant and loving to sacrifice her own sleep and start the turkey at two am. Now, I think she just liked to have the quiet house to herself and the turkey was a good excuse, even though I grew up thinking Mom founded the club and was its smartest member. But then I met my husband, Dave, and his mother also started the turkey before dawn. We both grew up drenching the turkey in gravy to get moist breast meat.
After six years of marriage, his job took us to Southern California and for the first time ever we didn’t have a mom’s or grandma’s home to go to on Thanksgiving. Because he almost always worked the holiday or the holiday weekend, we had to figure out how to roast our own turkeys. The first year, the turkey was dry because we followed our mothers’ instructions. Instead of gravy though, we moistened the turkey with tears at being separated from our families.
Over the next few years we learned that turkeys are considered done at 150-160 degrees, not the 180˚ to 190˚ we grew up with. Because of Dave’s work schedule, we began hosting a Thanksgiving brunch for our friends. After brunch, they would go to their family celebrations, Dave would go to work, my daughters and I would watch movies and snack on brunch leftovers.
After eight years in Pasadena, we returned to the Valley. The first Thanksgiving back was again tearful. Because this time, I missed celebrating the holiday with our friends, and doing things my way in my home. I had to go and eat dry turkey. And Dave was still off working.
A few more years later, we experienced two epiphanies: 1) Dave finally had enough seniority to get the day off and 2) we didn’t have to eat dry turkey.
Dave and his brother conferred and decided to tell their mom that they would like to grill the turkey. She dubiously agreed. Her skepticism that a turkey could be roasted to doneness on an outdoor grill in less than ten hours extended far enough that she purchased and roasted a second turkey inside.
At the end of the meal, the grilled turkey carcass sat next to the intact leather turkey.
The next year was our turn to celebrate with my family and Dave volunteered to be in charge of the turkey. My mom was doubtful too, but said her back-up turkey wasn’t really a back-up. It was “because Dad likes his dressing cooked inside the bird.” That lasted just the one year and after that Dad had to eat his dressing like the rest of us and thus a new tradition was born: the next generation was in charge of the turkey.
We have gradually taken on more and more of the meal preparation so that now, we host my family’s Thanksgiving gathering every other year. The bird is thawing. The coals are standing by. The dough is rising.
It’s Christmas in Fool’s Gold, California, home to many of Mallery’s fun books, several of which I’ve reviewed here.
Rina is in love with the vet, a single father named Cameron. He was deeply hurt when his wife walked out on him and their infant daughter. He’s raised Kaitlyn on his own and plans to keep it that way. He will never trust another woman.
He doesn’t count on Rina and her love for him and Kaitlyn’s love for Rina. Their worlds are turned upside down by love.
This is a short, quick read. I think it took me three evenings of pre-bed reading to finish it. It’s kind of the perfect Christmas novella:
Sweet, but not cloying.
Festive, but not garish.
Fun, but not flippant.
Only Us came out in 2011. Last year, I reviewed Christmas on 4th Street, and this year’s Fool’s Gold novella, Yours for Christmas, is available as an e-book or is a bonus in the mass market edition of Christmas on 4th Street. I haven’t gotten to it yet, but soon.
There is something wrong when Christmas movies start airing before Thanksgiving.
This is the first year I’ve started watching them before the beginning of Advent.
I’ve only seen two so far, but they were both pretty good.
The Nine Lives of Christmas was very sweet and charming with an adorable heroine and a Superhero hero. Really. The part was played by Brandon Routh, who starred in Superman Returns in 2006. After I stopped thinking of him as Clark Kent, I enjoyed it.
Routh’s character is a single fireman who flips houses in his spare time and is not looking for anything permanent.
Kimberly Sustad plays Merilee White, a veterinary student and part-time employee at the local pet emporium.
They have a cat, which gives the movie its name.
If I had to categorize this one, I’d say it was Friends to Happily Ever After.
Also on the Hallmark channel is Let It Snow. Candace Cameron Bure works for her father’s resort company. She flies from Arizona to Maine to evaluate their latest acquisition: a winter resort and ski
She arrives uptight and business-like and ends up loving Christmas and falling in love with the son of the owners of the ski lodge. She gets sucked into their Christmas traditions and doesn’t want her father to raze the resort to rebuild something that caters to singles in their twenties and thirties.
This one was cute and enjoyable too. The weak spot was the hero. He just wasn’t a very good actor and his unease in the role showed.
Let It Snow would fall into the Enemies, to Friends, to Happy Ever After category. It’s 2013’s Candace Cameron Bure Christmas movie. There will be another on in just a few more days for 2014.
Both Nine Lives and Let It Snow are good for passing a couple of hours with a cup of something warm while it’s cold and rainy / snowy outside.
My rule to not watch a new show in its first season is a good one. I’ve been burned by the networks before. I watch. I like. I get hooked. They cancel. So I quit watching first seasons.
It wasn’t a perfect system, but it worked for us.
This year, I broke the rule.
I saw a few ads for A to Z. I remembered the male lead from Drop Dead Diva and liked him, so decided I’d try the premiere. It was good enough that I added it to my DVR’s To-Do list.
And of course, the network canceled it last week. After the filmed thirteen or so episodes, it’s over.
I’m sorry, A to Z, that I broke my rule. Your cancellation is likely my fault.
Was the show awesomely perfect? No. But neither was Frasier when it debuted. I remember being underwhelmed. But they found their footing and made it work.
A to Z is about Andrew and Zelda (A for Andrew, Z for Zelda, get it?) and their relationship from meeting to … we will never know. The opening narrator says Andrew and Zelda dated for eight months, five hours (I think), and eighteen minutes. And this television show is the chronicle of that relationship. She doesn’t say if they get married or break up at the end of that time. And now we’ll never know.
See? Rules are for a reason.
Do you have rules about new television shows? Do you give them one chance to grab you or will stick with them for a few weeks?
I’d heard about it but never visited one until this last weekend.
Hubby ate at one in the Bay Area a couple of months ago and came home raving. We heard there’s one in Visalia, definitely doable for a lunch or dinner, especially since we can combine it with a visit to Darling Older Daughter.
But I’m no longer a Dickey’s wannabe. I’ve been.
It was really good.
Hubby ordered the sampler plate of pulled pork, chicken, and brisket for us to share. The sides were mac & cheese and loaded mashed potatoes.
I was starving when we arrived. And I’m not being overly dramatic. Well, maybe a wee bit. But I was very, very hungry. Normally, if I were ordering, I’d have gotten something that counted as a salad or green veggie, but I was so hungry that I embraced the protein and carbs like long lost friends. Which they sort of were.
The mac and cheese was maybe the best I’ve ever had. At least in the top two or three. And I’m picky about mac and cheese. Dickey’s was creamy and had plenty of sauce clinging to the elbow macaroni. The loaded mashed potatoes were full of flavor and had a good ratio of toppings (scallions, bacon) to potato.
The brisket was tender and flavorful, falling apart to the fork. The pulled pork had just the right amount of seasoning, a tricky thing to execute well. The chicken was the least exciting, but it still was tender and tasty. Since I’m currently on a tomato fast, I had to skip all the sauces, so I can’t say how spicy/sweet/tangy they were.
There’s a soft serve machine with cones to finish off the meal. The vanilla cone was the perfect finish to the highly seasoned meal. Cool and creamy and a bit sweet.
I’m ready to go back anytime. Or at least make a foray to Visalia. There are lots of other sides to taste test.
I’m fast-drafting a new story for National Novel Writing Month. The advised method of doing this is spending a few weeks or even October researching your story, writing your character sketches, deciding on setting, theme, etc. So on November 1, you’re ready to write. Anything else that comes up, write Research this later and keep on writing.
I generally just dive in. Which means I spend the first two weeks with word counts so low, my Estimated Date of Completion is Christmas. Maybe even January. Because I don’t yet know my characters or story. Setting is a bit easier this time around, because this is book two of my Hart’s Leap series.
Since it’s still the first two weeks, I’m spending more time researching than I am writing. I’m learning about ballroom dancing, the military, genius kids, children with intelligence labeled “Very Superior,” and Down Syndrome. I don’t even know enough yet to be able to make up something and tag it Research later.
But I think I finally have the basics that I need and the story is starting to come together. Starting tomorrow, I’m working on this one only and the words should start flowing. Which I’m going to need since I still have well over half the book to write and only half the month to get it done.
Regular readers here know the love I have for Susan May Warren and her books. I had missed Nightingale though so when it was recently on sale on Kindle, I scooped it up and finished it last night.
The good: It’s by Susan May Warren, so of course it’s well-written and engaging. The story is well-researched and absolutely perfect in its time-setting.
But … for some reason I didn’t connect with the characters and story as I usually do in Warren’s books. I’m sure it was just me, maybe I’m in a weird place mentally this week. Or month. Because I always love all of Warren’s books.
Esther is a nurse in Wisconsin, waiting for her fiancé and the father of her young daughter to come home from World War II.
Peter is a German medic who writes to Esther to send her the letter entrusted to him by a dying soldier.
They begin a correspondence and develop a relationship.
Esther knows she doesn’t love Linus, her fiancé, and he doesn’t love her. But how can she love a German?
Warren’s theme in Nightingale is can one mistake in the past define our future? Are there such things as grace and mercy and a fresh start?
I don’t want to give away too much of the plot so I’ll stop there. I probably won’t review this one on Amazon since I got my hand slapped there recently by one of Susie’s friends who questioned why I said in the review that I loved the book but only gave it 4 stars (I reserve 5 stars for the truly exceptional).
Nightingale is good, excellent even, just not 5 star to me. I do recommend it!
I admit it. I used the television as a babysitter when our girls were growing up.
Small Wonder was a lifesaver while I was fixing dinner. Vici and her family kept the kids occupied while I boiled pasta and stirred sauces.
As grandparents though, we rarely turn on the television when the grands are here. In nice weather, we play outside, or they’re in the water. In winter, they know where the toys are stored and can spend hours with the big doll house or books or Legos.
When our satellite TV provider had a free preview weekend, I recorded several movies I thought the little ones would enjoy. Brave and Pochahontas. Mamma Mia and Dolphin Tale.
I expected the three-year-old would be enamored with the animated films, but the one she requests over and over again is Dolphin Tale.
It’s about a boy in Florida who helps rescue a beached dolphin whose tail is severely injured in a crab trap. Sawyer begins visiting the dolphin at the marine rescue hospital and they bond. He and the daughter of the staff vet become friends. It’s apparently based on a “true story.”
The true part is that the dolphin, named Winter, was rescued and did have her tail amputated and did learn to swim again with a prosthetic tail. She has inspired many other people, amputees and disabled, to face their own challenges and persevere.
I always watch these kinds of movies with a jaded eye. I expect a strong environmental message. If the message is blatant and a hard sell, I discount both the message and the film.
Dolphin Tale‘s message is quite subtle and more about Winter’s effect on the people she inspires.
I’ve watched it several times now, both in full and parts. It’s a bit predictable, sure, but over all, we enjoy it. Good thing, since I doubt the three-year-old will tire of it any time soon. (We do watch it only after playing outside. Or while playing with the doll house inside.)
The grand-daughter is enamored of a small cast resin bird I have for decoration on a shelf. She’s named the bird Rufus, after a pelican in Dolphin Tale and carries it everywhere when she’s here. We haven’t yet seen Dolphin Tale 2 but I expect it will be on the DVR when it’s aired.
In the mean time, we’ll make do with Rufus and the original, still on the DVR and which I don’t dare erase.