Thanksgiving

I’m in charge of the turkey—what does this mean?—It means do not kill the family with unsafe poultry.

I’ve had too many experiences with unthawed turkey on cooking day. So I told my daughter I wanted at least a week for the bird to thaw in the downstairs mini-beer-fridge. Now 4 days to go and it is still crunchy-semi-frozen. I know we can put it in the sink for an hour or two for the final final, but it is unbelievable how frozen these frozen turkeys can get.

Meanwhile, I’ll work on the pie and together we’ll do the cranberry relish. It’s been a while since we’ve cooked together and, with the new baby, it was decided that we wouldn’t travel, but stay home. I’ve drawn up graphs and charts and step-by-step to-dos. Yet, this hasn’t stopped me from worrying.

Sheesh, I can ride my bike across the country solo and summit mountains, but cooking a meal has me petrified.

We’re still days away and I can’t help imagining serving a botulated turkey.