Still about the Thanksgiving Feast

We had our feast at Heather and Andy's house. I shopped the day before. Robyn, my granddaughter and I stirred, chopped, broke bread and baked for several hours. Robyn moved easily about the kitchen, discovering her own skill.. She is thirteen years old.

We made scalloped potatoes. One dish with chives, one with cheese. Robyn had a mandolin and was eager to use it. I have been trying for months to make myself spend eighty dollars for such a gadget. Robyn found hers at a yard sale for five dollars . She sliced potatoes until her hand ached. Yukon Golds do not need to be peeled.

We created layers together. I placed each slice separately and precisely, Robyn picked up a handful and plonked them down, just like her mother would have done.

We made stuffing with brown bread, crumbed white bread for the sauce. It took four different places to find freshly baked bread. The loaf had heft and heavenly aroma. I cut off crusts and promptly buttered and ate the end slice.

Garden fresh chives and sage were chopped. Robyn did the footwork. She made pumpkin pies as well.

I found a new roasting pan for the turkey, stainless steel with a domed lid. The rack inside was its special attribute. It held the twenty-pound bird exactly. Strong, round handles at each end lifted it easily clear when it was done to golden perfection.

I marinated the beef with herbs on the eve and roasted it in my own oven on the day. The turkey was done at Heather's house.

Marnie shouted down the shaft from Barrie. "I am not doing punch any more". She baked pies, one pumpkin and one lattice apple - from scratch. Her mother told us how she came looking for unsalted butter no less.She also made an enormous basin of strawberry salad with strawberry dressing. It was eaten with gusto to the very last leaf.

Theresa was happy. She brought fizzy pop for the young ones. They were happy. They kept coming and hoisting bottles to pour drinks, because parents were too busy socializing to pay attention.

Patrick, my artist grandson, took the bus from Ottawa to come to the feast. Lizzie and Cameron were there as well.

Keenan, at whose house the feast was held, complained bitterly that I had adulterated the stuffing. I added a handful of dried cranberries to the sausage, sage and onion. Every crumb was eaten. But Keenan is a man of clarion conviction.He is all of twenty years old. Things have to be exactly how he anticipates them. I have no idea how he got to be that way.

The ham was baked the night before. It came with a packaged glaze. We dressed it with cherry centred pineapple rings and studded it with cloves. It was s-o-o good.

Heather didn't have time to bake her delectable little bites of buns but Rhonda stopped off at Molisano's bakery and bought fresh crusty dinner rolls. Heather came in time to serve the feast.

Marg and Doug, Andy's parents were there. Margaret has had a serious brush with the Big C. It was especially sweet to have them with us.

It was a true Fall day. Andy made a fire in the backyard. When grandchildren came in for drinks and hugs, hair and sweaters smelled of wood smoke.

The day came and went and was enjoyed by all. Nobody even noticed it wasn't at Grannie's house.

Harrumph!