It's Okay, I've Worked in Fast Food

Let's rewind to Practice Thanksgiving last Saturday night.   It was a great night.   I'm still thinking about it.   I'm particularly still thinking about it because a turkey has a lot of fat in it.    I know, it's terrible, right?    Wait, what?  You mean you don't know what I'm talking about?  

I know my sister-in-law does.    She and I have talked about how much fat and grease is involved in cooking a bird.   The bigger the bird, the more the fat and grease.   When you make a turkey, there is the pot you cook it in, the place you carve it when it's cooked, the platter you serve it on, the pan you make the gravy in, the plates you eat it on and everything else in your kitchen or at your tables that interacts in some way with that turkey.   It all gets greasy.

Today, four days later, my husband still hasn't gotten all the grease out of the baster top.   I'm getting tired of looking at it in the sink.    If he didn't love making a turkey so much I would request we just go and buy one in the future.   My husband does make a damn good turkey though.   He's been working on his gravy too and this time, he got it just right.

When it comes time to fill up my plate, I almost always get very little turkey.   I'm more about the side dishes.   We have a friend who's vegetarian and he never, ever complains or even says anything.   He put the few things on his plate that worked for him and had a full meal.  

When the meal was over the cleanup started, amidst the continuing adult chatter.   My vegetarian friend wanted to help, but he didn't really know what to do so he asked me if there was something he could do.   I saw the big pan of gravy and asked if he could put the remainder in a container and put it in the refrigerator.  

I looked away to wash another wine glass but when I turned back, I saw him doing a very good job of getting the gravy into the container while trying hard not to smell it.    I said, "Nitin, I forgot you were vegetarian.  I'm so sorry, would you like another job?  I can do that."   He said, "I just got a whiff.   It's okay, I've worked in fast food."

I couldn't help it.  I laughed.   That gravy, no matter how good it was to me, was unsavory to him.    He finished the job though and put the container in the refrigerator.   Then he helped me dry dishes while we talked.

Turkeys are a lot of work and a lot of grease and to some of us, a delicious part of Thanksgiving dinner.   But not everyone sees turkeys the same way.

The Big Boy Update:  My son was home sick today.  He was lethargic all day, although he had no fever.    We were planning on going grocery shopping.   My daughter said we should get some bwanas.    My son said to her in a correcting tone, "no, they're not called bwanas, they're called blanas."  I told them we would be sure to get some "bananas".

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter had an edamame bean the other day and she was playing with it.   She decided she wanted to see if it would fit up her nostril.   When I saw her doing this I told her beans didn't belong in her nose, they went in her mouth.    I also told her to ask me about when the doctor found a pea in my nose when I was three.