The Day Before The Night Before Thanksgiving, And We’re All A Little Bit Nuts

For our family, no holiday is as draped in tradition as Thanksgiving.

Most obvious, there’s the food – eagerly anticipated and unfailingly abundant.  Then, there are the activities:  truly, there’s an unsettling sense that the earth might violently split open and gulp us down whole if we didn’t shuck oysters at Dad's on Wednesday, or whine about driving through the Festival of Lights after the Thursday feast, or slip out way before dawn to shop with Super Sis on Black Friday. 

There’s the music, too.  From this moment through December 25, only holiday music (and variations thereof, including, but not limited to, anything that’s ever been heard on a Peanuts television show) will blare in my car.  And should Darling Daughter and Snarky Son complain, (as they will even before their seatbelts are buckled), I’ll also sing.  Loudly.  Enthusiastically.  Off-key.  With no respect for actual lyrics.

We are also proud defenders of the “I forgot my toothbrush” tradition – which usually isn’t even acknowledged until a good 48 hours after we hit I-77.  There’s a variation of this at Thanksgiving dinner as well.  Just after we’ve said the blessing and everyone has been served, Mom will announce, “I forgot the rolls/salad/cranberry sauce.”  And we'll all be thinking the same thing: “For the love of Pete.  I don’t want any rolls/salad/cranberry sauce.  But lookey there, I can make extra space if I just shove this marshmallowed sweet potato casserole on top of that molded lime gelatin salad.”

All of this, of course, follows the decades-old tradition of pulling the turkey from the fridge and remarking, with great surprise, “Hmmph.  This turkey is still frozen!”  Come on.  I don’t care what it says on the label --  no self-respecting turkey can thaw after two nights in a refrigerator.  Sadly for our family, we can only remember that fact once a year -- Thanksgiving Day -- and no sooner.

Throughout the weekend, our family will also remain entrenched in the fine tradition of picking up other people’s full drinks and claiming them as our own.  Until, of course, that drink is sucked down below the ice line (or, if a beer, below the coozie line), at which time it’s necessary to subtly abandon that drink and claim someone else’s.  I actually tried to “remedy” this tradition one year, by handpainting our names on a set of glasses.  Didn’t work.  The glasses were pretty, though.

The best Thanksgiving tradition of all, though, is the stories.

I'm not certain, but in the TV shows I’ve seen, other families don’t engage in the full-on, get-down-and-dirty tattletaling we revel in.

There’s nothing like those “remember the time?” dinner stories that leave your face streaked with tears, your hands clutching your freshly fattened sides, and your eyes darting wildly about to make sure the kids didn’t catch the details and innuendoes.  Most of the stories are about us growing up, but there are gracious plenty about the adults we knew back in the 70s, too.  The way we see it is, “Hey, if you don’t want us to talk about you, then you ought to drag yourself to Thanksgiving.”

Nah.  That’s a lie.  Everyone is fair game whether they're here or not.  But if you were here, at least you could defend yourself.  Or distract everyone with a story about someone else.  (And no, I’d rather not hear yet another re-telling of the night the bridge was stuck and the parents couldn't get home after work and we teenagers were left to our own devices.  I was young, OK?  And stupid.)

I guess we’re all kind of nuts.  But it’s not just the time of year.  It’s just us.  And oddly enough, we all look forward to it.  Just like these Sugar and Spiced Pecans.

Here’s to family.  And traditions -- even those that are a little bit nuts.

Sugar and Spiced Pecans

2 egg whites

1 tablespoon water

1 teaspoon salt

2 cups sugar

4 teaspoons cinnamon

2 teaspoons nutmeg

1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon ground cayenne

2 pounds pecan halves

Beat egg whites, water and salt until frothy, but not stiff.  Stir in sugar and spices.  Add pecans and mix until all nuts are coated.

Spread on cookie sheets sprayed with nonstick spray. Bake in a 225 degree oven for one hour or until dry, stirring every 15 minutes.  Separate nuts and let cool.  Store in resealable freezer bags.  Can be made 3-4 days in advance.

It's Never Too Early To Prepare -- Gingered Orange Cranberry Sauce

Twenty-four years ago, in the weeks before I was married, I had nightmares.

It's typical, I know, for brides-to-be to envision being abandoned at the alter, or being betrayed by a bridemaid, or being propped up at the altar in something other than -- or rather, less than -- their wedding gown.  (Funny how none of us foresee our eventual divorce.  Hmm.)

My scary dream, on the other hand, was that my mom arrived to the church late.  Silly, right?  But I justify the worry as significant because there was even a song about it.  Remember?  "Get Me To The Church On Time"?

Anyone who knows me knows I like to be prepared.  I plan ahead.  I make lists.  I arrive on time  And in fairness, so does my mom.  Well, everything except that "on time" bit.  (I love you, Mommy!)  Nearly 30 years after their divorce, Dad still torments Mom about her, um, "flexibility" when it comes to schedules.  But really, we don't want to go down that path now ...

You should see the black-speckled composition book Mom gave me a few years after the wedding, crammed with Scotch-taped scraps of paper and Post-It notes itemizing all my wedding details -- catering, flowers, and clothing selections.  Budgets.  Guest lists.  Looking back, I'm surprised it didn't contain a honeymoon packing list.  Perhaps both of us had the good sense to ix-nay that one.

Hmmph.  Not hard to see where I acquired the "need to be ready" gene, right?  Which is why this time of year makes my skin want to crawl right off my body and into a solitary confinement cell.  I know full well what the coming weeks hold.  Lists wouldn't begin to meet my current cravings.  I'm beyond lists now.  I want to check things off those lists.  I don't want to plan.  I want to do.

I want to shop.  I want to procure.  I want to stash.

I want to wrap.  I want to write.  I want to address.

I want to slice.  I want to dice.  I want to cook.

Problem with cooking, though, is that there are still days to go before Thanksgiving.  And even more in the way of me and Christmas.  I've already stashed some Sausage Bread in the freezer, with six loaves of Pumpkin Bread companions.  The Cheese Wafer dough is in the fridge.  Gingered Cranberry Orange Sauce is next.

I love homemade cranberry sauce.  It's super simple to make and keeps for at least a week (maybe two).  This version is particularly flavorful.  Where the canned stuff may seem a little, ahem, peculiar to picky eaters, this version is fresh and tart and flavorful -- and nightmare-free.

Gingered Orange Cranberry Sauce
1 cup water
1 cup sugar
1 seedless navel orange, cut in fine dice
2 teaspoons fresh grated ginger
2 whole cloves
2 whole allspice
2 peppercorns
1 12-ounce bag fresh cranberries

In medium saucepan, bring water, sugar, ginger and orange to a boil.  Reduce to simmer.  Put spices in a teaball or small cheesecloth bag and immerse in mixture. Stir in cranberries.  Simmer 15-20 minutes until thickened.  Remove spices, allow to cool to room temperature, and then, refrigerate.

'Tis The Season For Panic -- And For Baking

Right now, our front sidewalk appears to have been booby-trapped by Wile E. Coyote (Supergenius), except that instead of being lined with marbles fresh from The Acme Company, our sidewalk -- weed-whacked-edge-to-weed-whacked-edge – is encrusted with acorns.  Thousands and thousands of acorns.  Which, actually, with their needle-tipped ends, are more hazardous than marbles.  Even steelies.

This sidewalk is hardly a paved path.  It’s an ankle sprain waiting for crutches and the EMS to arrive.  Followed immediately thereafter by a personal injury lawyer.

Our neighborhood squirrels are frenzied – near panic – trying to harvest and store the bountiful harvest before it’s crushed beneath villainous car tires and Mike the Mailman’s heels.  Or worse, collected as evidence in the aforementioned lawsuit.

I’m with the squirrels.  The holiday season is upon us, and I’ve got my own frenzy -- making lists and stashing them in my purse, my room, the desk drawer, on the computer, the iPhone, and the backs of Harris Teeter receipts.  I’ve also begun stashing gifts, and in the process, have even found a few “lost” gifts from Christmases past.  (As if someone in the household could still fit in size “00” jeans.  Sigh.)

I’ve also, joyfully, begun holiday cooking.  Next week will be filled with pies – pecan, pumpkin, the dreaded mincemeat, the Best Cheesecake Ever – and the surprisingly irresistible Gingered Orange Cranberry Sauce.  This week, though, is devoted to things that can be prepared in advance, the impossible-to-eat-just-one Cheddar-Blue Cheese Wafers, cranberry-spiked Pumpkin Bread, Super Savory Crispix Mix, and the inadequately named and homely-sounding Sausage Bread.

Sausage Bread requires only three ingredients and is a holiday necessity Chez Wiles.  Not only is it the mandatory breakfast for both Thanksgiving and Christmas mornings, it makes a terrific tailgating treat, a welcomed hostess gift and is easily prepared in advance and frozen for travel.

Not quite, perhaps, as “genius” as Wile E. Coyote, but pretty darn close.  And to this point, no lawsuits either.

Sausage Bread

1 pkg (three loaves) frozen white bread dough (I use Bridgford)

2 lbs. good quality bulk sausage (I use either Fresh Market’s or Neese’s)

1 lb. grated Cheddar-Montery Jack blend

1 onion, diced, sautéed (optional)

1 bell pepper (any color) diced, sautéed (optional)

flour

mustard

Thaw dough and allow to come to room temperature.

Brown sausage in large skillet, breaking into small bits.  Stir in onion and bell pepper, if using.  Drain well in a colander.

Working with one loaf at a time, on a well-floured pastry board, roll and stretch dough out into a rectangle, measuring (very roughly) 9” x 14”.  (Note:  If dough is too chilled, it will not stretch sufficiently.)  Scatter 1/3 of sausage over dough.  Sprinkle with 1/3 (1 1/3 cups) cheese. 

Starting along long edge, gently roll up dough, tucking in sausage and cheese as you go.  This is a sloppy and imperfect process.  The dough will is very forgiving and will stretch, which is a good thing.  Just try not to tear it.

Once you’ve rolled up the entire loaf, jelly-roll style, use your finger to dampen the entire long edge with water, which will help “glue” the dough to itself.

At this point, I either cut the loaf in half, lengthwise, to form two smaller loaves, tugging the dough at either end and using water to “glue” it closed, OR, I form the entire long loaf into a circle, tucking one end into the other.  (The round loaf makes a lovely presentation as a gift.)

Repeat with remaining loaves, moving each to a well greased baking sheet.  Then, allow loaves to rise, until overall size increases by about 50%.  Depending on the temperature in your home, this may take 2-3 hours.

Once risen, bake in a 350 oven for 30-45 minutes, until well browned and crusty.  Remove from oven and cool on racks.  Serve warm with mustard, or allow to cool completely and freeze until needed.