Thankfully and collectively speaking

This Thanksgiving was spent both alone and at a community gathering --- Mom was in Baker City and both vehicles were not in shape to safely convey me to my sister's gathering near Eugene. The afternoon was instead spent in the company of a cross-section of local humanity invited to share a potluck repast, from homeless David with his faithful dog tied up out front, who helped scrape the plates after dinner, to congenial table companions including my old boss, who helped out afterward with the dishes. All were brought together through the tireless generosity and ingenuity of a supermarket checker and her friends, some recruited from the checkout line. She has done a community dinner several years now, inviting all who wish to participate. The lower level at the American Legion Hall was packed and everyone had plenty to share, followed by a surfeit of Bingo. A tweaker and her boyfriend pecked at the delicious repast at the back of the hall. A notorious child molester was there with her former victim-turned-husband and his sundry family members, she wearing overalls and hair recently chopped and dyed a violent fuschia. Two sheriff's deputies were loading up plates to go, with the engine running and their radio sharing 911 dispatches in the parking lot. The spread included at least three platters of turkey, five kinds of dressing, four variations on cranberry sauce, vegetables, salads and enough pumpkin pie for all.
Although dinner was advertised as beginning at 2:30 p.m., everyone was digging in at 2:25 when I arrived in the pouring rain, bearing my contributions in cardboard boxes covered with kitchen towels. I brought a green tomato mincemeat upside-down cake with roast pears and apples, still warm from the oven; oven-roasted spicy cauliflower with a dash of harissa and Spanish smoked paprika; olives; and a wild rice/brown basmati and wild mushroom pilaf.
We ate some of the leftovers again today for Sunday dinner, with oven-roasted parsnips and a half an Alaskan king salmon that had loitered in the freezer, baked in a mixture of my sister's mustard/honey glaze plus ginger, soy sauce, garlic and wine.

Pilaf on the Wild Side

This aromatic pilaf was made with basmati brown rice and wild rice, several kinds of mushrooms, sunchokes/Jerusalem artichokes from my garden, shallots, chicken broth, and toasted pecans.
It can be made using fresh domestic and/or wild mushrooms, such as fresh crimini, button or portabellas, fresh or dried shiitakes, porcini, chanterelles, morels, or black trumpets in any combination. If using dried mushrooms, reconstitute by adding a little warm water, cover and microwave on medium heat 30 seconds. Let stand a minute, then uncover and chop, destemming shiitakes and saving the liquid. Kitchen scissors work great for this chore.

2 T. butter or olive oil, or combination of the two
1 tsp. dark sesame oil
3 chopped shallots
3 medium or 2 large Jerusalem artichokes/sunchokes, roughly chopped
1 cup basmati brown rice
1/2 cup wild rice
2-1/2 cups low salt chicken broth
1/2 cup mushroom soaking liquid, strained, or equal amount chicken broth, apple cider, or water
1/4 cup dry white wine (or add the same amount of other liquids)
2 T. soy sauce
2 good grinds black pepper
2 cloves garlic, put through press
1/2 cup chopped pecans, toasted lightly

Heat the butter/olive oil and sesame oil in an enamel dutch oven or heavy large saucepan, add mushrooms, chopped shallots, Jerusalem artichokes and garlic and stir for 1-2 minutes at high heat but do not totally brown. Add the wild and brown rice and continue to stir about 3 minutes, or until the rice is turning translucent. Add chicken broth, wine, mushroom soaking liquid and soy sauce, reduce heat and simmer covered on low about 45 minutes. Check rice for doneness, adding more liquid, if needed. Add toasted pecans and freshly ground pepper. Stir and cook another minute or two.

To toast nuts, spread in a single layer on a baking pan or cookie sheet. Toast in a 350° oven, stirring occasionally, 10 to 15 minutes. You could also toast them in an ungreased heavy skillet over medium heat, stirring until golden brown and aromatic, but watch them carefully and remove immediately from the pan.

Nearing Thanksgiving....

It's almost Thanksgiving again, and another anniversary is nearing.
Pan back to 1982, Brooklyn. It's dark and cold as I walk home from the Park Slope subway stop. I have invited three people to share Thanksgiving dinner, but I have not yet bought a turkey or any of the trimmings due to work and time pressures. As I walk toward President Street, every mom and pop bodega is closed. My heart sinks with each echoing step. My roommate is in Pennsylvania with her parents. Rather than face my favorite holiday alone, I have invited a couple who were each my friends before they met and married, plus a new boyfriend I've known less than two weeks. I met him at the insistence of my girlfriend, who said he was “spiritual.” He is shiny bald when he finally takes off his hat. I like him well enough, but he is moving a little too fast for me.
In despair over the turkey situation, I recall there is a 24-hour, seven-days-a-week Safeway, a 12-block walk into uncharted territory. At 10:30 p.m., I am willing to risk it. I reason as I scurry along that I will take a cab back, as I’ll have too much to carry. I can't afford a cab both directions and buy groceries, too. As I arrive, the manager is pulling down the metal gates and won't let me duck under to grab a few things. "This is the only night we close," he tells me. Now that I wish I had a cab, none are around.
I brace myself for the cold walk back, and see predatory shadows near the store. Launching myself toward home, my senses are on high alert. I manage to negotiate the first couple of blocks safely, but there are four or five of them, and they are dangerous young wolves, circling as they close in. I duck into a house turned apartment building with an unlocked front door, crouching below the window in the foyer. They search nearby yards and doorways. Unable to get past the inside door, trapped, I ring doorbells at random. Finally, a man in a bathrobe comes downstairs and I explain the situation. He agrees to call me a cab, and I wait, crouching and shivering until it comes. Home never felt better.
The next morning, a neighborhood grocery offers two chickens and other provisions. I set to work making sweet potato and apple pies, yeast rolls, cranberry sauce with orange and ginger, real whipped cream and cornbread stuffing from scratch. As the oldest of seven children with grandmothers from Kansas and Missouri, I can cook.
The potatoes are mashed when he arrives nearly an hour late. He plops himself in front of the TV and turns on a football game as I work. At 3 p.m., it is clear my friends are not showing, and we begin to eat when the phone rings. Miriam is calling from a subway station. They have had an on-platform shouting match; he is going to his mother's. I ask her to join us, but she is too upset.
We save the pie for later. He settles in front of his football game while I wash dishes. No offer of help from him; he doesn’t even carry his dishes to the sink. After a decidedly unspiritual remark about the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders, something snaps. Still in my apron, I hand him his hat and point him down the stairs. He protests, "What about the pie?" He calls for a week, but I will not speak to him.
Every year at Thanksgiving, I acknowledge yet another notch on an ever-tightening chastity belt. I seem to have lost the knack.

Thanksgiving 2010

The challenge: Expected guests stymied by sub-zero weather in Eastern Oregon. Thanksgiving, just me and the Mama, which means producing the full Thanksgiving meal deal sans sugar or too much fat. I was awakened at 6:05 by Mama, who was over-compensating over the prospect of a holiday long enjoyed in her family. She was immediately on the phone to Louisiana and other parts north and east.

Our Thanksgiving 2010 Menu:

Roast Turkey Breast with Herb/Garlic Rub
Mashed Yukon Gold Potatoes
Low-Fat Gravy (made with chicken broth)
Homemade Cornbread-Herb Dressing
Sourdough Whole Wheat & Spelt Rolls
Cranberry Sauce with Fresh and Dried Cranberries and Orange Zest
Jerusalem Artichokes/Parsnips with Fat-Free 1/2&1/2 and Low-Fat Herb Cheese
Red Cabbage & Apple in the Scandinavian Style
Baked Yams with Splenda Brown Sugar, Orange Juice & Grated Orange Peel
Home-Canned No-Sugar Bread & Butter Pickles
Dessert:
Home-Canned Green Tomato Mincemeat Baked Between Layers of Phyllo Dough
No-Sugar, Low-fat Pumpkin Pie with Whole Wheat Pastry Flour - Spelt Crust
Sparkling Cranberry-Apple Cider

Shortly after 6 a.m., I put on some coffee and immediately set to work on the cranberry sauce and the red cabbage, using a head which had been grown by my former bosses at their Bear Creek farm. This small head had languished in the crisper drawer in a paper bag, but it needed only the removal of a couple of layers, as is the great advantage with cabbage. It was cut in thin ribbons and cooked with two chopped apples, onion, erythritol and a little rice wine vinegar, balsamic vinegar and red wine plus a few spices, including cloves and allspice.
The frozen cranberries joined a few dried ones, plus erythritol, grated orange peel and orange juice.
The cornbread dressing went together easily with three leftover corn muffins and a whole wheat heel from the freezer, plus three stalks of celery, half a chopped onion, chicken broth, Eggbeaters and lots of dried parsley, marjoram, thyme, sage, garlic, etc. It was not baked with the turkey breast, which was rubbed with herbs, garlic and onion powder, but had its own casserole dish.
I made a Jerusalem artichoke/parsnip casserole, cooking them briefly in water, then adding them to a glass casserole dish with some fat-free half and half and chunks of a low-fat herb cheese, thrown into the oven at the last minute as the turkey neared perfection.
The phyllo dough was layered into a square glass baking dish, brushed with a little low-fat butter every few layers and sprinkled with a little erythritol, brandy, cinnamon, fresh orange juice and orange zest.
It was twice-baked, as we were not hungry for dessert for more than five hours. The second baking crisped it up (uncovered) and I thought it was great. Mom likes more traditional desserts, and put some light Coolwhip on it. Oh well.
The pumpkin pie crust was an adaptation of a recipe found on the side of the Bob's Red Mill spelt flour package. I added a little whole wheat pastry flour and some light (1/2 and 1/2) butter to the dough, which was patted into the glass pie dish. It did not extend up the side, but for a low-fat crust it was quite satisfying and tender.
The pumpkin filling got the usual canned pumpkin treatment with evaporated milk, spices --- cinnamon, cloves, ginger, nutmeg --- and Eggbeaters, plus some dark molasses, erythritol and a little agave syrup (there would have been more but the silly bottle would not open).
The whole meal was ready by about quarter to 1 p.m.
I was tired, had broken a nail, and my feet hurt. I had taken some skin off my index finger trying to get into the icy back of the van to get out the new cardtable, but I was otherwise unscathed.
It was all pretty tasty. Next time I will add more sweetener --- maybe Safeway's Splenda maple syrup --- to the pumpkin pie filling. I won't bake the rolls as early and I will definitely not try to cool them on two spread-apart cooling racks set over Mom's plastic placemats. I owe her a new set, as one has a hole from the hot roll pan.
We had dessert this evening, just before "Jeopardy."
The last time I saw Mom, she was trying to find matching pieces of a new 1,000-piece wild bird puzzle spread out on the new card table.
I'm sequestered in my bedroom on the computer, waiting for the freezing rain to hit.
As Scarlett said,"Tomorrow is another day." There's always the leftovers, some of which are in a cooler out on the porch, which is why freezing rain isn't always a bad thing.