by CAL, Curmudgeon at Large

My job at the pre-Thanksgiving here is peeling potatoes.  Not that I am bad at it, but my suggestion to get the Costco instant version was deemed as me-trying-to-get-out-of-work.  This suggestion was offered only because I had heard that a local caterer used Costco’s potatoes.  But the professionals laughed and rolled their eyes at me so I peeled and peeled.

After about 30 minutes, the potato pile filled our biggest bushel basket-sized bowl, yet the professionals said it was only two pounds’ worth.  I volunteered to go to the store to get more, and since we had just got another Minnesota snow dump, this was awfully nice of me.  They saw through this offer; luckily, we had eight pounds worth, the “backup” scale said.  Trapped.  Men know this feeling.  Shoot, I didn’t even know we had a back-up scale.

When I use kitchen utensils or power tools, I always get hurt.  Let’s just say some of the potatoes have a reddish tint now if you get the drift.

Pre-Thanksgiving is kinda like putting decorations on the Christmas tree.  There is not one man in America who likes either one.  Only one man has figured out the decorating problem, a very smart man I know.  He and his wife always threw a big “Christmas” party right after Thanksgiving.  What it was really, was a “Come Decorate My Christmas Tree, Suckers” party.  We actually decorated their tree for them.  Smart guy, right?  Next year, I might insist on a Pre Thanksgiving party.  ”Now let’s all play Peel the Potatoes…”    I kill me.

We have two turkeys.  One has been genetically altered to have only the breast.  White meat.  Somehow the granola, tree-hugger , but inconsistent types in my fam don’t even think of these poor birds, legless and wingless, sitting in some turkey coop gorging themselves on corn pellets laced with the turkey version of Mark McGuire “muscle enhancements.”  We can justifiably buy these genetically-enhanced, only-breast turkeys because we still pay $3 more per dozen for the brown version “organic” eggs.  From the “free range”  chickens. You all know that  farmers are laughing at us.

If you are a man, when you are asked what you want for dinner, especially a Thanksgiving Dinner, you really only think of two things:

1.  How many pans will this take to make? ( Did I mention I am on clean-up duty?)

2.  How bad will the house smell after?

Me, I really only want turkey, a big pile of mashed potatoes with brown gravy,  and corn.  Seriously.  If you want to knock yourself out, creamed corn.  Every year I tell the professionals this, but they always remind me that last year I liked the Honey Glazed Roasted Root Vegetables seasoned with basil-rosemary-and-tyme brought by someone’s Aunt.   Oh, I recall..the professionals asked the Aunt what went it into it, recipe-sharing.  Me, I want to know how many pans.  I am going to stop being nice to food-bringers.

We are having so many different things (dishes) this Thanksgiving, we are bringing out the special plates with sideboards.  I am fine with that, I hate it when my mashed potatoes spill off my plate.  It makes such a mess on our once-a-year tablecloth that no one can spill anything on.  Guests can, of course.  They’re special.