Not a Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving Feast

Thank you Liz Russell Fugate for sharing your Tabletop Tuesday photos. 

Stories come in all shapes sizes and locations. The other day a friend shared a family funny story that put me in stitches. I thought we were the only family who had aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, in-laws and more who arrived on their own time clock. Otherwise, known as the family who arrives late, sometimes after the meal when they were the ones responsible for the appetizers. Yes, we learned that bacon wrapped jalapeno Poppers" tasted as good after dinner as before. 

Kari's story holds the "Really" trophy. It seems as though many of us have family members who are not cooks, in any way shape or form. In her case, the niece, who was happily married with three children who looked well fed and a husband who, too, enjoyed his meals. With the Thanksgiving meal out of the oven, the turnkey cut, and the food being spread on the table, the niece arrived who was to bring the sweet potato casserole. 

Thank you Liz Russell Fugate for sharing your lovely Tabletop Tuesday photos. 

A knock on the door, Kari saw the niece and family behind her  bursting through the front door and hallway, saying over and over, "I'm here. I'm here." All the while swinging a plastic bag of four large sweet potatoes fresh from the potato bin at the grocery store--not cooked, not peeled, not ready to eat in anyway, shape, or form. 

Needless, to say Kari's family did not eat sweet potato casserole that Thanksgiving. 

Ben's story. He laughed before he could even tell it, leaving those of us listening to laugh with him without knowing why. "I was ten years old the year I saw my ninety-eight pound mother take down my one- hundred and twenty-three pound black lab. 

She had baked two turkeys for her large family. One shoved to the back of the kitchen counter and the other near the ledge, too near the ledge. Mother turned her back and in that instant my lab grabbed the turkey and ran. Mother at the top of her voice screaming, "Drop! I said, Drop." The lab wasn't listening. She ran after him, tackled him in the living room in front of her family and wrestled him to the floor putting his head in a choke hold. I heard her growl, "I'm not eating this turkey but you are not either. Now drop."

The dog knew he'd been beat and to this day every living member of our family loves to retell that story. 

These stories came about as I told a friend last week that the parts for oven had not arrived, thus, the repair man could not fix our broken oven. It's not broken completely but it has a mind of its own when it comes to heating up. It might say that the temperature is at 350, when in reality it is sitting at 200. Most recently, it heated itself to 490 and as the food began to turn black and crisp I pulled it out of the oven. 

We are planning to smoke out meats on Wednesday, weather provided, and avoid the panic breakdown of one uncooked turnkey on Thanksgiving. 

Which reminds me of another story.

Bob invited us over for a Sunday meal after Thanksgiving to relax and reflect. We always enjoyed Bob's meals as they were quite tasty. Our job was simple...bring the wine. 

Thank you Liz Russell Fugate for sharing your Tabletop Tuesday photos. 

We arrived thirty minutes early for a drink or two, like our parents before us did. However, as we approached the kitchen there was a riot of words spewing from Bob's mouth. We stopped short of the kitchen and looked at his wife who was ready to break into hysterical laughter. 

"Can we fix someone a drink," I asked innocently. 

"Please do," smiled his wife. Stepping around Bob as he danced a devils jig, we filled four wine glasses and hoped he would settle down. 

The food was all arranged and nothing looked amiss. After a few quiet sips of wine Bob announced that we were having a vegetarian meal. We nodded our approval, looked to the table and his wife for directions when she burst out with the story. 

"Bobby forgot to turn the smoker on this morning. When he checked it before you arrived the pork lay there raw and bloody on the grill." 

Silence surrounded the table until one by one our eyes drifted to Bob, and suddenly we all gushed with laughter and snorts. 

The marinated pork tenderloin probably would have been delicious, IF ONLY. Throughout the meal, we could hear Bob muttering to himself. "I can't believe I did that." "Glad it wasn't Thanksgiving." "I can't believe I did that." 

If only he could understand how good his disaster made that rest of humanity feel about hysterical kitchen disasters. 

Confessions are good they say, and Ann's disaster proved that she had more patience for life than I had thought. 

Her large kitchen, dining, and den area could easily seat thirty people for Thanksgiving. With her husband in cooperate business, they often entertained large groups of salesmen and other representatives. Ann loved to cook.

Thank you Liz Russell Fugate for sharing your Tabletop Tuesday photos. 

About an hour before the guests and family were to arrive Ann turned on the garbage disposal to clean up, when suddenly it erupted like a pea green volcano gurgling potato skins and more.  My one word name for women like Ann would be "pluperfect." By my definition that means someone who walks with perfect posture, speaks with grammatically  correct English, sets the table perfectly, and knows exactly when to speak. 

At that moment, she recalls, yelling at her husband to get into the kitchen NOW. When Ed saw the sink, distress rose in his voice, "I can't fix that, not with company coming."

"Do something. Now." The perfect face and demure melted into tears. 

He went to the bathroom for the plunger, but first used the toilet and discovered that he needed the plunger in the bathroom and worse yet, how could he tell his wife that the plumbing was erupting all over the house. He wisely stepped in the bedroom, found the telephone book and called a local plumber. It took several calls before one could be located and willing to come out immediately on Thanksgiving day. 

As only a "pluperfect" woman could do, Ann greeted the plumber with all smiles as he walked in the front door with the guests. 

That Thanksgiving Ed prepared a special drink for the guests as they waited for the meal to be served. Ann and her daughters worked in the kitchen arranging the foods and last-minute items. The plumber went straight to work.

The Thanksgiving meal began a an hour late with warm turkey and dressing but no one gave notice. Desserts were served and the guests retired to various spaces in the house. 

Before evening the plumber finished and Ann, in her gracious manner, asked the plumber to stay and have a Thanksgiving meal at her table.