What’s to say
About a day
Spent on
Oodles of onions
And a pot of beef stew?
Friday, December 4, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Pickin’ Chicken
Rachel put such a vat of frozen thigh quarters into my roaster overnight, that they still weren’t completely cooked when we got up in the morning. I cranked up the heat to git ‘er done, reminding myself that I wanted to turn it off to cool before taking Sarah to school. Well, they still weren’t falling-off-the-bone tender when it was time to head out, so I figured on setting them to simmer while I was gone.
Meanwhile, I had called Holly at the governor’s mansion kitchen to see if I could drop by for a short visit, and I had contacted the flooded Atlanta family to arrange a drop of clothing that Terry Sue’s family had donated at Briton’s wedding. I dropped Sarah off, and headed over to Wal-Mart to purchase a microwave oven to add to Terry Sue’s donation.
On the way over, I began having one of those panicky moments when you’re on the way out of town and can’t remember if you unplugged the iron. Of course people, with new irons no longer have that worry, but we used to worry about coming home to a pile of cinders instead of our cinder block homes. Did I remember to set the roaster to simmer? Back to Rachel’s in the pouring rain to check on the chicken...
By the time I got to the mansion, Holly was adding the finishing touches to the gingerbread house that will adorn the dining room during the Christmas mansion tours. How absolutely precious! Last year, Holly created a replica of the mansion in gingerbread , which was stunning. This year, she really outdid herself with a Hansel and Gretel motif. This house is decorated inside and out, complete with the witch, the oven, Gretel, and Hansel -- in a cage of pretzel sticks. Her finishing touch is a little licorice dog in a puddle of yellow snow out side the house. Too cute!
Thankfully, there was no further flooding in the area of my flooded family, so I was able to deliver the donations. The chicken was done when I returned from my appointed wet rounds. I spent the afternoon in Rachel’s dry, cozy kitchen alternating writing and pickin’ the chicken.
Meanwhile, I had called Holly at the governor’s mansion kitchen to see if I could drop by for a short visit, and I had contacted the flooded Atlanta family to arrange a drop of clothing that Terry Sue’s family had donated at Briton’s wedding. I dropped Sarah off, and headed over to Wal-Mart to purchase a microwave oven to add to Terry Sue’s donation.
On the way over, I began having one of those panicky moments when you’re on the way out of town and can’t remember if you unplugged the iron. Of course people, with new irons no longer have that worry, but we used to worry about coming home to a pile of cinders instead of our cinder block homes. Did I remember to set the roaster to simmer? Back to Rachel’s in the pouring rain to check on the chicken...
By the time I got to the mansion, Holly was adding the finishing touches to the gingerbread house that will adorn the dining room during the Christmas mansion tours. How absolutely precious! Last year, Holly created a replica of the mansion in gingerbread , which was stunning. This year, she really outdid herself with a Hansel and Gretel motif. This house is decorated inside and out, complete with the witch, the oven, Gretel, and Hansel -- in a cage of pretzel sticks. Her finishing touch is a little licorice dog in a puddle of yellow snow out side the house. Too cute!
Thankfully, there was no further flooding in the area of my flooded family, so I was able to deliver the donations. The chicken was done when I returned from my appointed wet rounds. I spent the afternoon in Rachel’s dry, cozy kitchen alternating writing and pickin’ the chicken.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Not Newsworthy
The newspaper that covered Mamie’s party agreed to publish a story I had written about Mamie for my blog and give me a byline. This was exciting to me -- until I received a copy of the paper. I had promised to send the story on to the Buzz as soon as I got home from Mamie’s party, but I went to lie down before Bluegrass, completely forgetting my promise. As my mind wandered in that twilight state just before sleep, it came into sharp focus on the fact that all newspapers work on deadlines, and time was wasting on the Mamie story.
I jumped from the bed, booted up my computer, opened my email program, searched my blog entries for the title, attached the file, and hit “send.” Feeling greatly relieved that I had accomplished that task, I went back to bed. I had written the story in early October, and had failed to re-edit the story before emailing it. The day it was published, Betty emailed me a copy of the paper. There it was on the front page, next to the photo and story about Mamie’s birthday party provided by the journalists at the newspaper – my byline on Mamie’s biography.
According to my piece, Mamie’s deceased son Junior is still active in the Ruritans, and the Autumn Gold Festival which is held the second week-end of October hasn’t yet happened for this calendar year. I hope this oversight on my part doesn’t inflict pain on the family or grief on the Buzz. If I hadn’t asked for a byline nobody would know it was my mistake, but I had to get greedy. Another case of “The hurrier I go, the behinder I get.” So much for my fantasy career as a newspaper columnist.
I did stop by Mamie’s to apologize before I left for Atlanta. She hadn’t yet seen the Buzz that featured her, but she didn’t seem upset with my confession. In fact, we spent most of our time laughing together. She showed me a write-up that Charlie and had brought to her birthday party. He spoke of Mamie’s generosity when he first moved to the mountain. It seems that he was on his way to Florida to pick up his belongings, and needed to establish a post office box before leaving. He had no time to stop by with the rent, so Mamie fronted him the money out of her pocket until he could return -- this for a man she never met. Charlie said that, in part because of Mamie, he believes that Coker Creek may not be Heaven, but it has the same zip code.
Maybe the reason God has granted Mamie so many years on earth is that she’s really a medicine woman with her huge doses of trust, forgiveness and fun. And he wants her to pass on all of her healing goodness before He takes her home.
I jumped from the bed, booted up my computer, opened my email program, searched my blog entries for the title, attached the file, and hit “send.” Feeling greatly relieved that I had accomplished that task, I went back to bed. I had written the story in early October, and had failed to re-edit the story before emailing it. The day it was published, Betty emailed me a copy of the paper. There it was on the front page, next to the photo and story about Mamie’s birthday party provided by the journalists at the newspaper – my byline on Mamie’s biography.
According to my piece, Mamie’s deceased son Junior is still active in the Ruritans, and the Autumn Gold Festival which is held the second week-end of October hasn’t yet happened for this calendar year. I hope this oversight on my part doesn’t inflict pain on the family or grief on the Buzz. If I hadn’t asked for a byline nobody would know it was my mistake, but I had to get greedy. Another case of “The hurrier I go, the behinder I get.” So much for my fantasy career as a newspaper columnist.
I did stop by Mamie’s to apologize before I left for Atlanta. She hadn’t yet seen the Buzz that featured her, but she didn’t seem upset with my confession. In fact, we spent most of our time laughing together. She showed me a write-up that Charlie and had brought to her birthday party. He spoke of Mamie’s generosity when he first moved to the mountain. It seems that he was on his way to Florida to pick up his belongings, and needed to establish a post office box before leaving. He had no time to stop by with the rent, so Mamie fronted him the money out of her pocket until he could return -- this for a man she never met. Charlie said that, in part because of Mamie, he believes that Coker Creek may not be Heaven, but it has the same zip code.
Maybe the reason God has granted Mamie so many years on earth is that she’s really a medicine woman with her huge doses of trust, forgiveness and fun. And he wants her to pass on all of her healing goodness before He takes her home.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Richard’s Reprieve
Have you ever analyzed how much time you spend digging out of the day before? It took me a whole day to clean the kitchen, unpack our suitcases, wash last week’s laundry, and stow the catering equipment. And this was with Richard’s assistance.
I know I’m a spoiled brat, but Richard doesn’t believe it. When I woke up grumbling about how much chaos I had created getting ready for our various events of the past week, he said, “Don’t worry about it. I get to cleaning after breakfast.” “Don’t worry; I’ll take care of it,” is Richard’s response to most of my I Love Lucy ideas. Who knew that a man, especially one as careful and shy as Richard, could play so many parts in my Lucy/Ethel act?
I’ve decide to give him a reprieve from honey-dos while I’m at Rachel’s house, and a relatively orderly house to relax in. It will only be for less than four days, and I think he can use some “him” time without having to wash his own underwear. What a wife, huh?
When we lived in New Orleans, Rachel would called periodically to say that she thought I should come see her for a week in Atlanta because Richard needed a break from me. As Richard has admitted, I’m like hot sauce. And a little hot sauce goes a long way. It’s not like we don’t have to kick Christmas preparation into high gear immediately upon my return. We still have twenty-plus presents to assemble and wrap. And there’s lots of cooking to be done for the revolving door of friends and family we expect in the two weeks between Christmas and the end of the New Year’s Day week-end.
I’ll spend the remainder of the week baking artichoke brownies, rolling bourbon balls and pickin’ chicken – and laughing with Rachel and her two of my three grandgirls. Laughter sure puts the lustre on life, and it’s the only way to keep up the energy to live a life so full of passion.
Time to load up the sleigh with cookware that Rachel wants to borrow. Have food processor, will travel.
I know I’m a spoiled brat, but Richard doesn’t believe it. When I woke up grumbling about how much chaos I had created getting ready for our various events of the past week, he said, “Don’t worry about it. I get to cleaning after breakfast.” “Don’t worry; I’ll take care of it,” is Richard’s response to most of my I Love Lucy ideas. Who knew that a man, especially one as careful and shy as Richard, could play so many parts in my Lucy/Ethel act?
I’ve decide to give him a reprieve from honey-dos while I’m at Rachel’s house, and a relatively orderly house to relax in. It will only be for less than four days, and I think he can use some “him” time without having to wash his own underwear. What a wife, huh?
When we lived in New Orleans, Rachel would called periodically to say that she thought I should come see her for a week in Atlanta because Richard needed a break from me. As Richard has admitted, I’m like hot sauce. And a little hot sauce goes a long way. It’s not like we don’t have to kick Christmas preparation into high gear immediately upon my return. We still have twenty-plus presents to assemble and wrap. And there’s lots of cooking to be done for the revolving door of friends and family we expect in the two weeks between Christmas and the end of the New Year’s Day week-end.
I’ll spend the remainder of the week baking artichoke brownies, rolling bourbon balls and pickin’ chicken – and laughing with Rachel and her two of my three grandgirls. Laughter sure puts the lustre on life, and it’s the only way to keep up the energy to live a life so full of passion.
Time to load up the sleigh with cookware that Rachel wants to borrow. Have food processor, will travel.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Mamie Murphy Day
The party was even better than I hoped it would be. Leal and I went to the Ruritan hall at eleven to finish setting up. Within thirty minutes, there was a caravan of caring family members bringing offerings of food, drinks, ice and service ware. I could have provided nothing but decorations and the party would have been a smashing success. Somewhere between one hundred five and one hundred fifty people came to celebrate Mamie’s ninetieth birthday. The mayor and the media showed, which one can never count on because it has to be a slow news day to show up all the way in Coker Creek for an old lady’s birthday bash.
How Mamie was surprised is beyond my imagining. All of Coker Creek had been informed, and it was even announced at the church services. Maybe Mamie being hard-of-hearing has its good points. When Mamie’s daughter Jean opened the door for her, Mamie stood there like a deer caught in headlights. Several of us were afraid we’d given her a heart attack. And then she smiled, her twinkly little blue-eyed Irish smile.
I had come to the hall armed with Mamie’s Women’s Study Bible, and a couple of verses marked about women that I felt would be appropriate for Mamie. I showed the verses to Wanda, and was surprised when she questioned the translation that I was using. After checking to make sure she was comfortable with the translation, and being assured that one of Mamie’s granddaughters had given Mamie the Bible, she read through my marked verses, obviously not quite satisfied with them. I suggested that the proverb about the good wife who rises before dawn might also be good, but Wanda pointed out that the verse felt too funereal.
Mamie seems to be comfortable with her preacher preaching from different denominational pulpits because, as she says, “It’s all the same Bible.” But, being raised Roman Catholic, I guess I’ve been exposed to more of the verses about women – as Roman Catholics seriously revere Mary as the mother of Jesus. Wanda and I finally agreed that Wanda could choose whatever verses she found fitting.
Wanda who is not only Mamie’s niece-in-law, but also Coker Creek’s songbird of the south led us in singing “Happy Birthday” as Mamie entered the room with Junior’s son Travis and his daughter Brook. She then read from Mamie’s Bible, introduced the mayor, and asked Mamie’s preacher to lead us in prayer. I wanted a female family member to lead the prayer, but since the preacher was there, Wanda wanted to offer him a place on the program. I sat and basked in the glow of Mamie’s mammoth family celebrating my adopted Mountain Mama.
Halfway through the afternoon, Richard reminded me that I have twenty-four event-free hours before I begin helping Rachel cook for her family’s annual Christmas open house. I offered to do the cooking at our house in the holler, but Rachel insisted on my coming to her kitchen in Atlanta. This is probably, in large part, because Rachel’s husband, Larry, will be on a business trip next week. She has cautioned me that I’m not to bring down any food from our fridge or freezer. I’m afraid that, without the proper ballast, the van may have trouble holding the road on the way down the mountain. We’ll see how that goes.
How Mamie was surprised is beyond my imagining. All of Coker Creek had been informed, and it was even announced at the church services. Maybe Mamie being hard-of-hearing has its good points. When Mamie’s daughter Jean opened the door for her, Mamie stood there like a deer caught in headlights. Several of us were afraid we’d given her a heart attack. And then she smiled, her twinkly little blue-eyed Irish smile.
I had come to the hall armed with Mamie’s Women’s Study Bible, and a couple of verses marked about women that I felt would be appropriate for Mamie. I showed the verses to Wanda, and was surprised when she questioned the translation that I was using. After checking to make sure she was comfortable with the translation, and being assured that one of Mamie’s granddaughters had given Mamie the Bible, she read through my marked verses, obviously not quite satisfied with them. I suggested that the proverb about the good wife who rises before dawn might also be good, but Wanda pointed out that the verse felt too funereal.
Mamie seems to be comfortable with her preacher preaching from different denominational pulpits because, as she says, “It’s all the same Bible.” But, being raised Roman Catholic, I guess I’ve been exposed to more of the verses about women – as Roman Catholics seriously revere Mary as the mother of Jesus. Wanda and I finally agreed that Wanda could choose whatever verses she found fitting.
Wanda who is not only Mamie’s niece-in-law, but also Coker Creek’s songbird of the south led us in singing “Happy Birthday” as Mamie entered the room with Junior’s son Travis and his daughter Brook. She then read from Mamie’s Bible, introduced the mayor, and asked Mamie’s preacher to lead us in prayer. I wanted a female family member to lead the prayer, but since the preacher was there, Wanda wanted to offer him a place on the program. I sat and basked in the glow of Mamie’s mammoth family celebrating my adopted Mountain Mama.
Halfway through the afternoon, Richard reminded me that I have twenty-four event-free hours before I begin helping Rachel cook for her family’s annual Christmas open house. I offered to do the cooking at our house in the holler, but Rachel insisted on my coming to her kitchen in Atlanta. This is probably, in large part, because Rachel’s husband, Larry, will be on a business trip next week. She has cautioned me that I’m not to bring down any food from our fridge or freezer. I’m afraid that, without the proper ballast, the van may have trouble holding the road on the way down the mountain. We’ll see how that goes.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
“Day After” Doldrums
Deviled eggs -- I forgot about Michelle’s deviled eggs at the Big Fat Family Feast. I think I was in denial because I probably consumed a dozen of them. And Rachel’s simply superb stuffed mushrooms -- I know I ate at least four. It usually takes three days for me to process the events (and the foods) of a week of visiting relatives, but I don’t have time to take to my bed right now.
I expected to attend Mamie’s birthday party, but I didn’t expect to cater it. Mamie’s older son Junior would surely have thrown a birthday bash for his mama’s ninetieth. Then he died. His wife, Greta, his kids, Travis and Brook, and his grandkids are still reeling from the loss of Junior, as is most of Coker Creek. If there’s one thing I know how to do it’s “wing it.” So I elected myself to organize the “do” – from six hundred miles away – with people I hardly know. What was I thinking?
I have to help Richard cook for Charlie and Deborah’s Bluegrass night, and I have to decorate the Ruritan hall for Mamie’s ninetieth birthday party. Where’s Elaine when I need to arrange flowers and greenery. Where’s Terry Sue when I need to make ribbons and garland? At least I have Richard in residence to help me cook and carry.
We have no idea who plans to attend or what they plan to bring. Everybody is just coming off of Thanksgiving travel, cooking and feasting. Who really needs another event, or more food -- especially with Christmas less than a month away? But Mamie is my mountain mama, so I want to celebrate that she’s still alive and kickin’. A party will be had – Coker Creek Cajun style.
Judy and Deborah have promised to bring beverages. Mamie’s niece-in-law Wanda has committed to sing. Mamie’s great-grand daughter Brook has sent out invitations and organized the extended family’s participation. Junior’s son Travis is arranging to get Mamie there. Mamie’s friend Mary Jane has alerted the Ruritan members and arranged to have the mayor declare it “Mamie Murphy Day.” Leal from Coker Creek Village has informed the area churches and helped me plan the menu. Jack’s friend, Mark, from the Monroe County Buzz has promised to cover the event. And what an event it will, hopefully, be.
Charlie and Deborah are having their Bluegrass gathering the night before Mamie’s “do”, so there’s dinner and dessert to prepare for that event. While I set up the tables and chairs for Mamie’s party at the Ruritan hall, Richard peeled and cooked butternut squash; seasoned, browned and sliced pork tenderloin; and made a batch of spiced cranberry sauce. During my short visit home between the Ruritan hall and Charlie and Deborah’s house, all I had to do was arrange the butternut squash base with a crown of pork slices, surrounded by jewels of cranberry and a center of ginger-cran-pear chutney to create a dish fit for a queen. This was a trial batch of the same meal I planned to honor Mamie, our Queen for a Day.
With some squares of carrot cake and our chafing dish, we made it to Bluegrass, but I didn’t even make it to dinner before I had Richard deliver me to my bed. I still have a full “Mamie Murphy Day” symphony to survive.
I expected to attend Mamie’s birthday party, but I didn’t expect to cater it. Mamie’s older son Junior would surely have thrown a birthday bash for his mama’s ninetieth. Then he died. His wife, Greta, his kids, Travis and Brook, and his grandkids are still reeling from the loss of Junior, as is most of Coker Creek. If there’s one thing I know how to do it’s “wing it.” So I elected myself to organize the “do” – from six hundred miles away – with people I hardly know. What was I thinking?
I have to help Richard cook for Charlie and Deborah’s Bluegrass night, and I have to decorate the Ruritan hall for Mamie’s ninetieth birthday party. Where’s Elaine when I need to arrange flowers and greenery. Where’s Terry Sue when I need to make ribbons and garland? At least I have Richard in residence to help me cook and carry.
We have no idea who plans to attend or what they plan to bring. Everybody is just coming off of Thanksgiving travel, cooking and feasting. Who really needs another event, or more food -- especially with Christmas less than a month away? But Mamie is my mountain mama, so I want to celebrate that she’s still alive and kickin’. A party will be had – Coker Creek Cajun style.
Judy and Deborah have promised to bring beverages. Mamie’s niece-in-law Wanda has committed to sing. Mamie’s great-grand daughter Brook has sent out invitations and organized the extended family’s participation. Junior’s son Travis is arranging to get Mamie there. Mamie’s friend Mary Jane has alerted the Ruritan members and arranged to have the mayor declare it “Mamie Murphy Day.” Leal from Coker Creek Village has informed the area churches and helped me plan the menu. Jack’s friend, Mark, from the Monroe County Buzz has promised to cover the event. And what an event it will, hopefully, be.
Charlie and Deborah are having their Bluegrass gathering the night before Mamie’s “do”, so there’s dinner and dessert to prepare for that event. While I set up the tables and chairs for Mamie’s party at the Ruritan hall, Richard peeled and cooked butternut squash; seasoned, browned and sliced pork tenderloin; and made a batch of spiced cranberry sauce. During my short visit home between the Ruritan hall and Charlie and Deborah’s house, all I had to do was arrange the butternut squash base with a crown of pork slices, surrounded by jewels of cranberry and a center of ginger-cran-pear chutney to create a dish fit for a queen. This was a trial batch of the same meal I planned to honor Mamie, our Queen for a Day.
With some squares of carrot cake and our chafing dish, we made it to Bluegrass, but I didn’t even make it to dinner before I had Richard deliver me to my bed. I still have a full “Mamie Murphy Day” symphony to survive.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
One Big Fat Family Feast
Individual members of our family are generally not fat, but boy is the size of our family ever fat and getting fatter -- as are our family feasts. It all started with Scott and Buffy offering their home for Thanksgiving because Elaine and Bub are still recuperating from Briton and Jeanne's wedding less than two weeks ago. Elaine has been working non-stop since arriving back in the New Orleans area. Rachel's family drove dpwn from Atlanta and stayed the week with Elaine and Bub.
We drove down with foods from our produce-packed freezer and pantry. These included pickled beets and okra, ginger-cran-pear chutney, spiced pecans, butternut squash, potatoes for oyster dressing, corn, bell peppers, canned tomatoes, pumpkin, smothered okra, and what I thought was a bag of turnip greens, and a bag of cooked giblet mix for making giblet dressing. I also brought some of my loose pepper jelly to pour over cream cheese and serve with crackers.
I had little cooking to do, so I spent much of the week visiting with kids and grandkids, my niece Nikki and her daughter Corinne, and my Godchild Gary. Miya and I made bows for lots of loot on Santa's sleigh. That bag of greens -- turns out it was actually basil, so it didn't make it to the buffet table, but I did make Bub's favorite oyster dressing and some turkey gravythe day of...
Buffy's mother and dad drove in with their RV refrigerator packed. Their offerings included Ann's southern-style potato salad -- the kind I love with as much egg as potato, a huge pan of cornbread dressing, and everything but their kitchen sink for making Dewey's should-be-famous chicken gumbo and rice -- and another bag of poatoes for mashing. Buffy kept Richard busy painting her newly remodeled hallway and helping her clean and set up tables and chairs. Scott spent several days running back and forth to various stores for party supplies -- and staying out of Buffy's way..
Bub glazed and cooked a ham, while Rachel produced pumpkin bread, the best stuffed mushrooms I ever put in my mouth, the requested-by-Sarah saffron rice, and mac and cheese.
Scott's best friend and neighbor Sam smoked a turkey and a ham while Scott got geared up to fry a turkey and roast another for his sister who is a traditionalist. Bub decided that he wanted a full fried turkey to take home to his baby boy who was working. At this point, we were up to two hams and four twenty-plus pound birds; but Bub insisted that Scott get another that could be fried last minute -- just in case.
Sam's sister-in-law baked bread, but we also had store-bought becauseRebecca is partial to Parker House rolls. Briton arrived with deer chimichamgas that he not only cooked -- he shot the deer. I've never had deer that I enjoyed before, but these were some of the best chimichangas that ever passed my lips.
Just when we didn't think we could fit another dish in the house, Sam's wife Michelle rolls in from three blocks away pushing her kitchen island laden with pies: pecan, pumkin, and chocolate -- and an extra-large casserole of candied yams.
Scott's cradle mate Kathleen stopped by, as did another of my nieces, Melanie, with her two-year-old and eight-month-old baby boys. Elaine road in with her daughter Gloria and Gloria's boyfriend. Michelle's brother and his family were visiting from Arkansas. Even Buffy's ninety-two-year-old great uncle made an appearance on the arm of his daughter, with his granddaughter carrying his great granddaughter.
Rachel summed up the family feast, spreading her arms to include the whole event, with, "I just love being back in this part of the country for a holiday." After we finished feasting, each guest left with enough food to feed their families for a week. We all agreed that it was obscene the amount of food we had, but we can't wait to do it again.
We drove down with foods from our produce-packed freezer and pantry. These included pickled beets and okra, ginger-cran-pear chutney, spiced pecans, butternut squash, potatoes for oyster dressing, corn, bell peppers, canned tomatoes, pumpkin, smothered okra, and what I thought was a bag of turnip greens, and a bag of cooked giblet mix for making giblet dressing. I also brought some of my loose pepper jelly to pour over cream cheese and serve with crackers.
I had little cooking to do, so I spent much of the week visiting with kids and grandkids, my niece Nikki and her daughter Corinne, and my Godchild Gary. Miya and I made bows for lots of loot on Santa's sleigh. That bag of greens -- turns out it was actually basil, so it didn't make it to the buffet table, but I did make Bub's favorite oyster dressing and some turkey gravythe day of...
Buffy's mother and dad drove in with their RV refrigerator packed. Their offerings included Ann's southern-style potato salad -- the kind I love with as much egg as potato, a huge pan of cornbread dressing, and everything but their kitchen sink for making Dewey's should-be-famous chicken gumbo and rice -- and another bag of poatoes for mashing. Buffy kept Richard busy painting her newly remodeled hallway and helping her clean and set up tables and chairs. Scott spent several days running back and forth to various stores for party supplies -- and staying out of Buffy's way..
Bub glazed and cooked a ham, while Rachel produced pumpkin bread, the best stuffed mushrooms I ever put in my mouth, the requested-by-Sarah saffron rice, and mac and cheese.
Scott's best friend and neighbor Sam smoked a turkey and a ham while Scott got geared up to fry a turkey and roast another for his sister who is a traditionalist. Bub decided that he wanted a full fried turkey to take home to his baby boy who was working. At this point, we were up to two hams and four twenty-plus pound birds; but Bub insisted that Scott get another that could be fried last minute -- just in case.
Sam's sister-in-law baked bread, but we also had store-bought becauseRebecca is partial to Parker House rolls. Briton arrived with deer chimichamgas that he not only cooked -- he shot the deer. I've never had deer that I enjoyed before, but these were some of the best chimichangas that ever passed my lips.
Just when we didn't think we could fit another dish in the house, Sam's wife Michelle rolls in from three blocks away pushing her kitchen island laden with pies: pecan, pumkin, and chocolate -- and an extra-large casserole of candied yams.
Scott's cradle mate Kathleen stopped by, as did another of my nieces, Melanie, with her two-year-old and eight-month-old baby boys. Elaine road in with her daughter Gloria and Gloria's boyfriend. Michelle's brother and his family were visiting from Arkansas. Even Buffy's ninety-two-year-old great uncle made an appearance on the arm of his daughter, with his granddaughter carrying his great granddaughter.
Rachel summed up the family feast, spreading her arms to include the whole event, with, "I just love being back in this part of the country for a holiday." After we finished feasting, each guest left with enough food to feed their families for a week. We all agreed that it was obscene the amount of food we had, but we can't wait to do it again.
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