There’s a huge Tupperware bowl on my kitchen counter. Not comically massive but one round, large and deep enough to soak ones feet in should they be so inclined. It's filled with fresh fruit.
Three turkey trots scheduled tomorrow and the first suggested (when asked) that I bring a fruit salad. Not entirely off the cuff given my host (and myself) are fans and regular crunchers of all things raw. That and I have the touch with salade de fruits, fresh and never canned ingredients in interesting combos, seasoned with a sprinkle of cassia cinnamon and dusting of brown sugar (never white...gosh, I hope I have brown sugar). Trip to the organic market left me a bit uninspired, however. Wanted to go with fruits known to help with digestion and remedy belly bloat (melons, pineapple, papayas), but I couldn’t find my ju ju, the vibe. Instead I loaded everything that smelled sweet into the cart, thinking whatever didn’t make it chopped rustic in a serving bowl I’d devour in my daily diet.
In no particular order I’m working with:
one smallish and rather hard pineapple
two samsuta tangerines
one asian pear
one package of blackberries
The final product will be inventive and awe-inspiring or a head scratcher.
After afternoon dinner down south I'm heading north for dessert (word on the street is both cranberry cake and pumpkin cheesecake) with the holiday hostess with the mostest. Her home will be fully decorated for Christmas, including trees on several floors, themed like those you find at Macy’s. There will be wine and loads of good company.
Final stop (fingers crossed) a drop-in on my adoptive Mormon clan, an interesting and eclectic mix who always extend a holiday invitation (no matter what they read in the blog). Plus I come home absolutely sober.
Last year I cooked a small meal for one, turkey breast, maybe boiled red potatoes and fresh green beans. I don’t recall being overly sad, but missing the company. The tradition. I may have taken myself to a movie but I don’t think so. Grateful to find myself this Thanksgiving healthy and happy and well looked after. Makes the missing less so.
Actually, it redefines what family really is.
...good God, let's eat.