We are thankful.
We give thanks for our abundant blessings, a fine family, a future imbued with hope and expectations. This Thanksgiving we were pleased to share our table and our blessings at our home this year. We could have seated more, but we enjoyed all of those that came to share with us this Thanksgiving. Nephew Brian (son of Mark's California sister) joined our table, as he is now a resident of Dallas these past six months as he works on his post-graduate medical program in orthodics and prosthetics at UT Southwestern. Also, this Thanksgiving we confirmed that the road not only goes from Dallas to Wichita Falls, but it also works pretty well going from Wichita Falls to Dallas. A bit of a role-reversal from the usual order with Sue's brother Bill and his wife Susan coming this way this year. Either way, we were delighted to see them.
Big shopping on Saturday ahead of Thanksgiving. We initially found a bimodal distribution of turkeys; 8 pounders or 22 pound birds - nothing in between. It appeared Goldilocks had shopped ahead of us. We were looking for something in the 12-14 lb range. Our initial fretting at not finding the properly proportioned bird (since size does matter), was eased somewhat when I noticed that between the two freezer bins; one with small and the other with large turkeys, there was an empty bin. Like a faith-fill pilgrim I stated, "That there bin is supposed to have our turkey - but it doesn't. But it will soon. The Good Lord willing. As I pull my Puritan Psalter and Walmart shopping list from beneath my big-buckle pilgrim hat, out came a clerk wheeling a cart filled 14 pound turkeys, just like the quail and manna provided to the children of Israel as they wandered in the Wilderness, lo those 40 years. At the sight of the newly arriving turkeys, I fell prostrate in thanksgiving for our good providential fortune. I dropped the shrink-wrapped carcass into the basket and made my way to the cranberry bog on aisle 2.
As the turkey slowly and gently thaws, other preparations were in process. My speciality of baked butter yeast rolls was not needed this year, as the Cooks would bring the rolls this time and include a fine corn + jalapeno casserole. One of my favorite philosophers dictates that "life is too short, eat dessert first." Even if my puritan roots mostly prevent me from following such epicurean advice; at least it makes sense to make dessert first. Alas, that task falls to my wife, exquisite baker of pies. Her pumpkins are pleasing [I'm talking about pies here], but her pecans are the best there ever was. It was said on the Friday after T-Day, "Maybe I should've made more pies?" It makes absolutely no sense for me to argue with a woman when she is thinking like that.
For a Thanksgiving feast scheduled for 2:00, things got cooking around 9:00. There were potatoes to mash, fresh ginger to grate into the sweet potatoes. A chunky citrus cranberry recipe was selected for the relish, sweet and dill pickles and black olives (suitable to place on one's fingertips before being consumed). I did very little of the prep, other than open a bottle of muscato and mix up the traditional "red stuff" (7-Up with cranberry juice). The turkey was infused with fresh sage from our herb garden, which also contributed some seasoning to the stuffing. While all of this was in the planning stage, Bill matter-of-factly decreed that the all-important Cook Family tomato aspic was the sole responsibility of the hostess. With the terms now clear, that too was made a day ahead.
About the point in the process where the stuffing was being prepared, the question came to me; "Do you want the giblets in your stuffing?" I thought it over, and decided no, that treat will go to into the dog's silver bowl outside. Strider, who is keenly aware of all kitchen activity, was especially please to hear the phrase "silver bowl", as he recognizes it as an indication of a special helping meant just for him. After placing said, giblets containing heart, liver and gizzard in said silver bowl. He took a look and then a sniff. And then a long stroll about the yard. What kind of self-respecting, carnivorous dog is unthankful for giblets? I asked him. Of all days to be unthankful! Now turkey skin is another matter entirely for him.
I was sent on one final trip to the store Thursday morning; to picked up some cinnamon sticks as a secret ingredient for something, another bag of cranberries, some cut flowers, some whipped cream for the pie AND I was also supposed to get a turkey baster. But I forgot. I reeally want a turkey baster. And now that I am thinking of it, if I were a habitually cussing sort of man (which I am not); I'd love to sling the usual barbs of dolts, dunderheads, dimwits and daylight drunks and haul off with a new cuss and call 'em all a scrofulous bunch o' damnable turkey basters! Yeah. Take that! And that goes for your momma too! Turkey basters all. [just a thought :-)]
Our guests all arrived in fine spirits. Bill went to work making gravy. Sue and Susan bustled about finishing and dishing up a all the courses which were to be placed on the table. It was of course my honor & privilege to carve the bird. But as I looked around me, I had to wonder, were there too many cooks in the kitchen? There was Bill Cook, Susan Cook, Sue Cook Suneson and Grant (in close proximity to the kitchen) who looks like a Cook. On second thought, it looked like about the right amount.
We give thanks for our abundant blessings, a fine family, a future imbued with hope and expectations. This Thanksgiving we were pleased to share our table and our blessings at our home this year. We could have seated more, but we enjoyed all of those that came to share with us this Thanksgiving. Nephew Brian (son of Mark's California sister) joined our table, as he is now a resident of Dallas these past six months as he works on his post-graduate medical program in orthodics and prosthetics at UT Southwestern. Also, this Thanksgiving we confirmed that the road not only goes from Dallas to Wichita Falls, but it also works pretty well going from Wichita Falls to Dallas. A bit of a role-reversal from the usual order with Sue's brother Bill and his wife Susan coming this way this year. Either way, we were delighted to see them.
Big shopping on Saturday ahead of Thanksgiving. We initially found a bimodal distribution of turkeys; 8 pounders or 22 pound birds - nothing in between. It appeared Goldilocks had shopped ahead of us. We were looking for something in the 12-14 lb range. Our initial fretting at not finding the properly proportioned bird (since size does matter), was eased somewhat when I noticed that between the two freezer bins; one with small and the other with large turkeys, there was an empty bin. Like a faith-fill pilgrim I stated, "That there bin is supposed to have our turkey - but it doesn't. But it will soon. The Good Lord willing. As I pull my Puritan Psalter and Walmart shopping list from beneath my big-buckle pilgrim hat, out came a clerk wheeling a cart filled 14 pound turkeys, just like the quail and manna provided to the children of Israel as they wandered in the Wilderness, lo those 40 years. At the sight of the newly arriving turkeys, I fell prostrate in thanksgiving for our good providential fortune. I dropped the shrink-wrapped carcass into the basket and made my way to the cranberry bog on aisle 2.
As the turkey slowly and gently thaws, other preparations were in process. My speciality of baked butter yeast rolls was not needed this year, as the Cooks would bring the rolls this time and include a fine corn + jalapeno casserole. One of my favorite philosophers dictates that "life is too short, eat dessert first." Even if my puritan roots mostly prevent me from following such epicurean advice; at least it makes sense to make dessert first. Alas, that task falls to my wife, exquisite baker of pies. Her pumpkins are pleasing [I'm talking about pies here], but her pecans are the best there ever was. It was said on the Friday after T-Day, "Maybe I should've made more pies?" It makes absolutely no sense for me to argue with a woman when she is thinking like that.
For a Thanksgiving feast scheduled for 2:00, things got cooking around 9:00. There were potatoes to mash, fresh ginger to grate into the sweet potatoes. A chunky citrus cranberry recipe was selected for the relish, sweet and dill pickles and black olives (suitable to place on one's fingertips before being consumed). I did very little of the prep, other than open a bottle of muscato and mix up the traditional "red stuff" (7-Up with cranberry juice). The turkey was infused with fresh sage from our herb garden, which also contributed some seasoning to the stuffing. While all of this was in the planning stage, Bill matter-of-factly decreed that the all-important Cook Family tomato aspic was the sole responsibility of the hostess. With the terms now clear, that too was made a day ahead.
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| Strider asks to be let back into the Kitchen. A most unthanful dog. |
I was sent on one final trip to the store Thursday morning; to picked up some cinnamon sticks as a secret ingredient for something, another bag of cranberries, some cut flowers, some whipped cream for the pie AND I was also supposed to get a turkey baster. But I forgot. I reeally want a turkey baster. And now that I am thinking of it, if I were a habitually cussing sort of man (which I am not); I'd love to sling the usual barbs of dolts, dunderheads, dimwits and daylight drunks and haul off with a new cuss and call 'em all a scrofulous bunch o' damnable turkey basters! Yeah. Take that! And that goes for your momma too! Turkey basters all. [just a thought :-)]
Our guests all arrived in fine spirits. Bill went to work making gravy. Sue and Susan bustled about finishing and dishing up a all the courses which were to be placed on the table. It was of course my honor & privilege to carve the bird. But as I looked around me, I had to wonder, were there too many cooks in the kitchen? There was Bill Cook, Susan Cook, Sue Cook Suneson and Grant (in close proximity to the kitchen) who looks like a Cook. On second thought, it looked like about the right amount.
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| Too many Cooks in the Kitchen? (L to R) Sue Cook Suneson, Bill Cook, Brian Arotca, Susan Cook. I figure it it just about the right amount of Cooks. |
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| Susan & Bill Cook Brian (nephew), Grant (son) Sue (wife & cook) Grant passes the Famous Tomato Aspic like he is playing "Hot Potato" |
We gave thanks and tucked in something fierce. Of the six gathered, I counted but three that tasted the aspic. Come on man. It's Thanksgiving, have you no fear of God and no respect for tradition. Eat up my hearties! And enjoy, giving robust thanks. [You know there are starving kids in Armenia that would love to have some tomato aspic]
I count myself nearly impervious to the affects of caffeine and stronger medicinal toddies. But this year, I confess I was unusually tripped up by tryptophan, the natural mellowing agent of turkey. After the meal (I know not whether it is the older me or this particular turkey), but land of Nod was all that was on my mind. I vowed to build a big house with plenty of rooms so that all of my guests could come eat a Thanksgiving meal and then retire to a nice November nap. While I faded into such dreams, the industrious nephew Brian sprang into action and clean up all the dishes he could lay his bioengineering hands upon. He was a marvel. Another thing to be thankful for.
After a bit more pie, Sue brought out some recently acquired archival family photos, in line with her in depth genealogy work and interest. She and Brother Bill pored over the images and tried to connect faces, stories and times that these scraps of surviving family history.
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| Archival Cook Family photo album Connecting family ties following the feast |
After our dear guest departed. We were left to dream of turkey soup, turkey sandwiches turkey casserole, turkey enchiladas, turkey waffles...
Again, we are thankful for all that we have and all that have us in there hearts.
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