It was a scorching Sunday and there we were, the ten of us, imbibing the elixir of friendship over a fabulous meal of Thanksgiving fare. Don't worry, you don't have to flee, there is no soliloquy on the why's and where's of Thanksgiving, well, not this time anyway.
As before, yes this is our third Thanksgiving at Linda's, the token American in our midst, we were to bring something to the table. While Linda graciously provided the turkey, the stuffings fillings, the cranberry salad, the coffee, the venue, the warm hospitality, the other Linda brought vegetables, Edwina the place-cards, Jeanne the sweet potatoes, Marg the pumpkin pie and moi the hors d'oeuvres.
In addition, we were also to each bring a personal item for our "show and share" with a tweak, the tweak being the items will be each presented in turn and we are to guess who the item belongs to and what was the specialness before the owner give his/her version of the specialness. You may not think much of this because you are a cold-hearted cynic but when played in it's true spirit, it can raise a goose-bump, or two.
We most definitely can do this Thanksgiving thingie again. And again, and again, and . . .
As before, yes this is our third Thanksgiving at Linda's, the token American in our midst, we were to bring something to the table. While Linda graciously provided the turkey, the stuffings fillings, the cranberry salad, the coffee, the venue, the warm hospitality, the other Linda brought vegetables, Edwina the place-cards, Jeanne the sweet potatoes, Marg the pumpkin pie and moi the hors d'oeuvres.
In addition, we were also to each bring a personal item for our "show and share" with a tweak, the tweak being the items will be each presented in turn and we are to guess who the item belongs to and what was the specialness before the owner give his/her version of the specialness. You may not think much of this because you are a cold-hearted cynic but when played in it's true spirit, it can raise a goose-bump, or two.
We most definitely can do this Thanksgiving thingie again. And again, and again, and . . .
"No, my sweet petal, I cannot give you my secret recipe for the turkey." Linda bravely stood up to the unidentified outstretched arm.
The table ready to receive the Thanksgiving horde.
A platter fit for a king turkey.
Isn't this pretty?
My chair at the table, and also my kind of chair. The legs are so Philippe Starck.
Ready for coffee, tea, or me.
Witty place-cards, courtesy of Edwina.
How appropriate, Darrell is our preferred carver of the turkey.
And here's Edwina. I mean her place-card.
Hors d'oeuvres - prosciutto wrapped dates with pecorino heart, devilled eggs, and pancetta boat with goat cheese and grape slice.
The star of the table - Linda's secret-recipe-cooked-to-perfection turkey.
The same turkey, from a different angle.
The turkey looking majestically succulent.
Darrell's arms executing their turkey-carving duty with aplomb.
Another family secret recipe, Linda's never-fail cranberry salad.
The after(meal)math.
Show and share.
Pumpkin pie, mine is a larger-than-others slice.
"You like my pie? So do I!", says Marg, the Pie Maker Extraordinaire.
Espresso, the perfect companion for the pumpkin pie.
The magnificent staghorn in Linda's backyard.
And here she is, our hostess with the mostest, the incomparable Ms Linda.
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