Food, Food and more Food
Canadian Thanksgiving 2006 a.k.a. a 4-Day Pig-out:
Thanksgiving in Canada happens on the second Monday in October, and like most other Canadians, we always have our turkey or whatever on the Sunday, and then have the leftovers on the actual Day. But this year the eating started on Friday and continued right through to Monday.
It all started when one of the women I work with, the one who is in charge of our monthly office potluck lunches, picked last Friday, Oct.6 as the day to do it for this month, and suggested a harvesty/Thanksgivingy theme.
We had everything from chicken stew, sweet ‘n’ sour meatballs, foccaccia bread with savory spreads, quiche, salads, perogies, and finished off with chocolate amaretto cheesecake, apricot-pecan cookies and apple crisp, all helped along with 3 kinds of potato chips and a couple of bottles of wine.
By the time I got home, I figured I wouldn’t eat again until the next day. But dh wanted his dinner, so out came the pots and pans. Then our daughter called—she has a new boyfriend and could we switch Thanksgiving dinner from Sunday to Monday because it was his dad’s birthday and they were all going out. But don’t cook the lamb—the new boyfriend doesn’t like lamb. Can we have salmon instead? Oh sure, whatever you want, honey. But then dh got upset—we only have roast lamb on special occasions and he’d been so looking forward to it.
Me, I was still stuffed from the potluck lunch and the thought of having two big dinners two days running sounded like a whole lot too much to my mind. So, we agreed that I’d make roast leg of lamb on Saturday with all the trimmings—green beans, brussel sprouts, roast potatoes and gravy plus mint & apple sauce, plus a strawberry cream dessert. Sunday we’d eat leftover lamb, and then Monday I’d make a big salmon tail with all the trimmings which included a cauliflower and cheese casserole, potatoes and a pear, blue cheese & pecan salad followed by a 3-fruit crumble with rum and raisin ice cream.
Now, it’s Tuesday, I feel fat, bloated, and probably don’t need to eat again until next weekend, but dh needed his supper when I got in from work, and since he’d been slaving over a hot computer playing games all day, what could I say? I took off my coat and out came the pots and pans, again.
I wonder what would happen if women everywhere put their cooking spoons down and their feet up, and told their hungry families to get themselves the same thing my mom once told me—the old Depression Days standby, bread and pullit--meaning a slice of bread and whatever you can find in the cupboard to pull on to it.