Friday, November 23, 2018
The Dishwasher is Still Running
Well, thank goodness that's over.
I feel that way about most holidays, even when I have a good time and everything goes according to plan -- as our Thanksgiving did yesterday. Dave cooked up a storm and we served our guests parsnip soup, lobster and scallops on puff pastry in a tarragon sauce, and a 12-pound traditional turkey with stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes and even cranberry sauce, which is not the easiest thing to find in England. Oh, and dessert: a pavlova and pecan pie, both courtesy of our friend Chris, and cupcakes from our friend Lisa.
And wine, needless to say. The "cats in space" wine was very good and we didn't even open the ladybird wine, because all our visitors brought their own bottles and we couldn't get through everything without going into liver failure.
We forgot to serve the bread, so now we have a big ol' somewhat stale baguette for sandwiches, and Dave also forgot to make a green vegetable. But oh well. A lot of people don't like green vegetables anyway, right?
Afterwards there was a freaking mountain of dishes to deal with. I'm on the third dishwasher load now. I think one more will have them all done.
So, yes, a success. I'm so glad the oven didn't die, like it did last Christmas.
We had a good talk at dinner about the mythology of Thanksgiving -- how the story of the colonists and Native Americans sitting down together for a cooperative, friendly feast wasn't quite accurate, at least in its broader context. It helped that we had two history teachers at our table.
This morning I was snoozing in bed at 6:45, after having gotten up once in the night to empty and reload the dishwasher, when I was awakened by slamming and grinding sounds. At first I thought workers were finally taking down the scaffold around the house, although it seemed awfully early. So I got up to investigate and saw the recycling truck making its way down the street. Crap! We forgot to put out the recycling!
So I raced out there in my bare feet carrying our waste food caddy and handed it off to the guys manning the truck. After cooking so much we had more peelings and other food refuse than ever, and I sure didn't want that to sit around for another week. The rest of it can wait.
(Photos: Rude kids street art in Bermondsey.)