We had our big meal on Boxing Day this year. We actually had turkey twice, spending Christmas Day dinner with friends. We are sharing our kids now that they’re married and this year was our turn for the day after. One day is as good as the next as long as we get to smell turkey cooking at least once! So Boxing Day were peeling, chopping and slicing and cooking the free range, grain fed bird.
Ever since we renovated our house I’ve been complaining about needing a second oven and once again the rant was taken off the shelf and dusted off over the lack of oven space. Cooking a large turkey in an even larger roasting pan takes up the entire oven. Having to cook sweet potatoes and dressing and manage a dessert is an impossible game of switcheroo. Timing this and then that to all be cooked and ready to serve at once is the work of a high wire act, precision timing is key.
This year I goofed. I under cooked the apples in the pie and over cooked the turkey. None of it is life altering but this is the one meal a year I like to exercise my culinary prowess on, outdoing Martha at her own game. But then I think, the queen of perfection has lots of ovens and help, more chances for rolling it all out on the table without a flaw. And I really can’t compete; she probably has back-up turkeys ready to take over if the need arises for plan B.
I’ve looked around my tiny kitchen and wonder where I would install a second oven. There isn’t much room there, we barely have space for the oven we have which means going upstairs and the laundry room isn’t an option. Getting to it would mean a bit of mountain climbing, over mounds of clothing waiting for a wash, definitely a recipe for disaster, and you know how socks go missing, finding one in the turkey cavity wouldn’t be a hit. Maybe when this current stove goes I’ll buy one that serves double duty with two ovens. Of course any problem you throw money at usually goes away but these stoves are unbelievably expensive, I might be swearing every Christmas for a very long time.
In the meantime I’ll put a meal out with a few problems, but no one will know but me and if I keep my trap shut they never will. They worst thing you can do, as people shovel grub into their gob, is to say something negative about it. Like faulty eyesight, most don’t have perfect taste buds so it’s all good in the end. My taste buds are over defined, and maybe why I fuss so. Most folks are only too happy to eat a meal they didn’t have to prepare so they don’t complain. Sometimes my sense of taste gets me into trouble when out at restaurants and the group I’m with rave how great a particular dish is when I can detect the rumblings of age or a hint that something is going afoul and they look at me like I have two heads. I would have made a great food critique and what a job that would be! Yum, tasting food for a living….I’d throw away my hook for a fork and go to town!
So despite a few glitches the meal was great. I always complain a bit because the perfectionist in me likes things just so. I’m always pretty hard on myself and a bit frantic that day. Charlene popped in for a visit in the afternoon and grabbed a peeler to help out. Much appreciated! She’s becoming a tradition. Anyway, she earned her tin of homemade short bread cookies.
One of my holiday favourites is the sweet and sour pearl onions that might have a lot of prep time getting them out of their skins and cooking but the taste is worth it every time. We always have a recipe hubby’s mom makes, cauliflower with an onion mustard sauce, broiled with cheddar cheese on top. Hubby made his famous parsnip/carrot honey veggie dish and we had the traditional potato trio of sweet potatoes with maple syrup, plain mashed and of course the crowning glory of the meal, the dressing. I love my tasty, homemade cranberry sauce with orange peel, cinnamon and currents. My least favourite part of the meal is the turkey which I baste it to a golden brown. I can give or take turkey; it would never be on my list for a last meal, but it is tradition and the crowd favourite. I wouldn’t mind switching it up with a ham or prime rib. Tired after a day on my feet, I made a comment that next year I might make a big lasagna or something equivalent like spaghetti and sauce. It was met with a lot of resistance.
A traditional Christmas meal is a lot of work, all day as a matter of fact, to have it shoveled in so quickly, bellies stuffed with stuffing and then suffer through communal groans while opening belts and wanting a nap, not to mention the dishes that run from one end of the counter to the next, is it worth it? After the company left, we cleared up and put everything away as the clock struck midnight, as tired as chickens in a fox coop. Ah well, we’ll see how I feel next year, like labour pains the memory fades and I’ll probably do it all over again.
Ever since we renovated our house I’ve been complaining about needing a second oven and once again the rant was taken off the shelf and dusted off over the lack of oven space. Cooking a large turkey in an even larger roasting pan takes up the entire oven. Having to cook sweet potatoes and dressing and manage a dessert is an impossible game of switcheroo. Timing this and then that to all be cooked and ready to serve at once is the work of a high wire act, precision timing is key.
This year I goofed. I under cooked the apples in the pie and over cooked the turkey. None of it is life altering but this is the one meal a year I like to exercise my culinary prowess on, outdoing Martha at her own game. But then I think, the queen of perfection has lots of ovens and help, more chances for rolling it all out on the table without a flaw. And I really can’t compete; she probably has back-up turkeys ready to take over if the need arises for plan B.
I’ve looked around my tiny kitchen and wonder where I would install a second oven. There isn’t much room there, we barely have space for the oven we have which means going upstairs and the laundry room isn’t an option. Getting to it would mean a bit of mountain climbing, over mounds of clothing waiting for a wash, definitely a recipe for disaster, and you know how socks go missing, finding one in the turkey cavity wouldn’t be a hit. Maybe when this current stove goes I’ll buy one that serves double duty with two ovens. Of course any problem you throw money at usually goes away but these stoves are unbelievably expensive, I might be swearing every Christmas for a very long time.
In the meantime I’ll put a meal out with a few problems, but no one will know but me and if I keep my trap shut they never will. They worst thing you can do, as people shovel grub into their gob, is to say something negative about it. Like faulty eyesight, most don’t have perfect taste buds so it’s all good in the end. My taste buds are over defined, and maybe why I fuss so. Most folks are only too happy to eat a meal they didn’t have to prepare so they don’t complain. Sometimes my sense of taste gets me into trouble when out at restaurants and the group I’m with rave how great a particular dish is when I can detect the rumblings of age or a hint that something is going afoul and they look at me like I have two heads. I would have made a great food critique and what a job that would be! Yum, tasting food for a living….I’d throw away my hook for a fork and go to town!
So despite a few glitches the meal was great. I always complain a bit because the perfectionist in me likes things just so. I’m always pretty hard on myself and a bit frantic that day. Charlene popped in for a visit in the afternoon and grabbed a peeler to help out. Much appreciated! She’s becoming a tradition. Anyway, she earned her tin of homemade short bread cookies.
One of my holiday favourites is the sweet and sour pearl onions that might have a lot of prep time getting them out of their skins and cooking but the taste is worth it every time. We always have a recipe hubby’s mom makes, cauliflower with an onion mustard sauce, broiled with cheddar cheese on top. Hubby made his famous parsnip/carrot honey veggie dish and we had the traditional potato trio of sweet potatoes with maple syrup, plain mashed and of course the crowning glory of the meal, the dressing. I love my tasty, homemade cranberry sauce with orange peel, cinnamon and currents. My least favourite part of the meal is the turkey which I baste it to a golden brown. I can give or take turkey; it would never be on my list for a last meal, but it is tradition and the crowd favourite. I wouldn’t mind switching it up with a ham or prime rib. Tired after a day on my feet, I made a comment that next year I might make a big lasagna or something equivalent like spaghetti and sauce. It was met with a lot of resistance.
A traditional Christmas meal is a lot of work, all day as a matter of fact, to have it shoveled in so quickly, bellies stuffed with stuffing and then suffer through communal groans while opening belts and wanting a nap, not to mention the dishes that run from one end of the counter to the next, is it worth it? After the company left, we cleared up and put everything away as the clock struck midnight, as tired as chickens in a fox coop. Ah well, we’ll see how I feel next year, like labour pains the memory fades and I’ll probably do it all over again.
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