I (h)am no more

A few years ago, I had a Thanksgiving rebellion.

This year, said I, I am not going to cook a big old turkey. We shall have ham.

So we did.

Picking a gigantic turkey carcass clean on Thanksgiving evening is not my idea of fun, you see. Especially after being on my feet all day, cooking masses of culinary delights that are only slightly dented by my family of small eaters, leaving copious amounts of leftovers that seem to expand in an opposing ratio to the space available in my refrigerator. So, obviously, finding space to fit the enormous, unpicked carcass is a losing proposition. 

Phew.

Angst, anyone?

So yes, we had ham for Thanksgiving.

But only once.

No more, cried my poor, deprived (for some reason I want to write depraved) family.

And we did not ever have ham again for this holiday, unless it was to supplement the turkey for a large gathering.

Another confession:

I usually cook much too large a quantity of food.

This year, I was determined to match the amount of food to the number of people attending, which was only six adults and an equal number (although it felt like more) of picky children. 

Jon walked in and said, Wow, you decided to scale back this year.

Isn't it sweet when our children acknowledge our efforts to please them?

This year, Chris smoked the turkey on his Traeger grill and sliced it in my kitchen, making both his mother-and father-in-law happy. 

Pretty smart move, don't you think?

It was, quite simply, divine.

He said, I only got a 16lb turkey this year, instead of a 20lb one. 

(He remembers my complaints from last year, you see.)

Stuffing confession: 

Half of it came from my freezer, leftovers from last year. 

I mixed in a box of Stove Top, some sauteed onion and celery, and it was savoury and delectable.

We have been true and faithful to the concept of pumpkin pie for several decades, but after realizing that it is only eaten after everything else is just a sweet memory, Bethany and I decided to forego the tradition this year. So, desserts, from top left and clockwise, were: custard tart (our family tradition), chocolate cream pie, persimmon pudding (I forgot the butter, but it didn't seem to hurt it), and pumpkin bread pudding. I have linked some of the recipes, if you're interested to try any of them. 

Jenny made her famous Jello. 

This is the favourite of every child. 

There are never leftovers of Jenny's Jello.

The adults are pretty fond of it too!

The bread pudding. 

I cheated on the recipe and used raisin bread. 

My creme anglaise was a bit of a cheat too, but it was all good.

The chocolate cream pie, in my opinion, which is not humble at all because I am almost always right, the best I have ever made. The crust was tender, the pudding rich without being overpoweringly sweet, and I sprinkled Heath toffee bits on the whipped cream, which was the piece de resistance. The chocolate chips were a bit over the top, but I've forgiven myself. The recipe link was just for the pudding, which is the most important part.

After dinner, things got a bit wild, as usual. Jeff and Bethany were sick and Chris was sleepy, so Jenny took the kids out in the rec room and organized the kids in a game of Hide and Seek. After a while, I went out and taught them some Thanksgiving songs. They ran around the room, singing and playing instruments.

This is my new favourite song. The kids liked it too.

Now, try and get that out of your head.

Bwahahaha!

We performed it for the adults, along with a "thankful song" I made up.

They were suitably impressed.

Not!

Next, a puppet show of dubious distinction. 

Little Jeff kept annoying everyone and Josh had a tantrum. 

Natalie was bored.

Thomy, wearing his turkey hat that he made at school.

Before everyone went home, the kids and I sang some Christmas songs. 

Which, if you love me at all, you will watch.

Notice Josh's fancy footwork.

And Thomy displays some pretty awesome vocal talent in this one.

Thanks to Jenny, the phantom videographer. I had no idea that she was taking these until I found them on my camera.

And thank you to you, for reading this epistle all the way to the end. 

Which assumes that you didn't get bored and check out five minutes ago. 

In which case, I will never know, so don't tell me.