Last night, as Capt. SO and I sat in our sun room, albeit with no sun shining in, it was a time of day when the urge to accomplish, accomplish was thankfully overshadowed by the urge to unwind. It always feels heavenly when the urge to unwind trumps the urge to do "just one more thing". Cranky Kitty likes it when we sit our weary bodies down in the sun room because it usually means she can find a lap to settle in to.......if she so chooses. With mugs of hot apple cider in hand we took a rare moment to relax and enjoy each other's company and talk. After we made a rule that there were about six topics for conversation that were off-limits, since they tend to be stress-producing subjects, Capt. SO looked at me and said, "What do you have planned for Thanksgiving Day dinner?"
To be truthful, I had not given it much, if any, thought other than to be reminded as I grocery shopped on Thursday, that the three days leading up to Thanksgiving Day tend to be brutal at the store where I shop for food. The Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday just prior to Thanksgiving Day are awful days to grocery shop.....unless you arrive at the store around 8 a.m., which is what I finally got smart and started doing several years ago. The hordes do not start arriving until between 9 and 9:30 a.m. and then, legions of the bad grocery-cart drivers show up, clogging the aisles while driving the wrong way. I would almost rather endure root canal than suffer through a shopping experience with moronic and rude grocery-cart operators.
However, not wanting Capt. SO to believe that I did not have a firm handle on the menu for Thanksgiving Day's main culinary event, I replied, "Eel." Looking a little flabbergasted, he replied, "I'm sorry, did I hear you correctly? Eel????" Feeling every bit the smarty-pants that I am, I retorted back, "Yes! I am planning a seafood meal. I thought we would start out with broiled eel, as an appetizer, accompanied, perhaps, by roe, which I am sure you know is fish eggs. Then we'll move to baked snapper and broiled sea scallops for our entree, followed, perhaps, by Oysters' Rockefeller ice cream. Doesn't that sound like a tasty meal?"
The incredulous look on his face was totally priceless. He started to protest that he could think of several of our guests who would not enjoy such fare, when I could no longer hold the deadpan look I had plastered on my face. As I started to grin, he started to laugh and we laughed so hard we nearly cried. Cranky Kitty did not appreciated the mirth and merriment and jumped off to go find quieter digs.
If you are a regular guest to our Thanksgiving table, fear not. You will not be dining on eel or oyster ice cream. Now those sea scallops may be another matter. My mouth is watering at the very typing of the words.
Time will tell!
Ancora imparo
