giving thanks

{lots of be thankful for}

 We decided to host Thanksgiving dinner at our place this summer when we were in PEI. Eager to get my grandparents over to the mainland we made them promise they would eat turkey at our place this year. They obliged us and so we prepared to host dinner for eight at our table for four.

Jeff was eager to brine our turkey and so we soaked our 14lb bird in salted and sugared water for over 12 hours. I was less enthused. The thought of poultry festering in a plastic vessel overnight wasn't doing it for me this year. I've brined a turkey before with my friend Jayme in Calgary. At the time we didn't have a cooler so we filled the crisper in her fridge with salt water! Now, that is commitment to turkey!

Jeff took Violet to church and then to the pool so I could prep and cook sans interruption. When I pulled the turkey out of the cooler it had an oddly human feel. The skin had become more transparent than usual and I could see the poor bird's muscles (that is what we eat right? muscles? sick.) I rinsed him off in the sink in much the same way I used to rinse Violet off at the cottage. It felt really weird. Wrong and weird, but I love turkey dinner so I persevered.

As I bathed our dinner the most disgusting thing happened: I got a feather splinter. Yes, a feather splinter. I love that we got our turkey at the market, but if it means seeing remnants of feathers I'm not sure I can stomach that much closeness with nature. If I get avian flu you will all know why.

The dinner went off without a hitch. I manged to fit all the food on each plate and all the people at the table (except for Violet who was relegated to her pink desk in the corner, which she loved). I thought the turkey was a teeny bit salty, but no one else agreed (it is possible they are just scared of me). Nanny made two pies (one for Jeff and one for everyone else -- for real), a perfect ending to a great meal.

I really have to work on taking pictures while I cook. I pride myself of being a good multitasker, but I can never seem to capture every step of the process. I took a few pictures of the bread I baked, one or two shots when everyone sat down to eat, but once my turkey coma began to set in I was out of commission as a photographer!

Nonetheless, here are a few pictures from our weekend, including a magical father-daughter-granddaughter hike at Hemlock Ravine. We have a history of such hikes which started when Vi was still in a baby bijorn. This year she walked almost the whole hour. She complained, but she did it!

xo

{Ellen's bread works everytime}

{even as rolls}