Thanksgiving Dinner


I decided to put two group shots in because the bottom one has everyone in but I look better in the top one. What?

Okay, lets rewind approximately 6 hours. I hopped off a train from Bath to Paddington and headed straight for Boy’s house to start the cooking process. He’d only get home from leaving work early an hour later, so that meant there was a good hour of trying to work out where the hell everything was in his STUPID KITCHEN (you can probably tell it took me a while to find every little thing).

But soon Boy was back and we got cooking! Some say we’re the King and Queen of Thanksgiving. Meaning me.

The Christmas tunes were flowing until I discovered Ming Bridges on Spotify. Well, that changed everything. Our voices are similar so I spent the next hour belting out ‘Sweet Misfortune’ and pretending I was her. Obviously Boy was just falling in love with me throughout.

I also reminisced about last Thanksgiving when I met his friends for the first time. He ignored me for the majority of the meal since he sat on the other side of the table. He’s a keeper.

Actually, probably the only reason I sticked around was because he did this to the turkey. He latticed that bad boy in bacon. I did give him this idea beforehand to be fair, but he did bring it to life. The only reason we’ve lasted a year was because I wanted another thanksgiving where I could devour this.

I tried to convince him to deep-fry it. Alex was telling me stories about when she went to stay with Frankie for Thanksgiving and Gavin made them deep-fried turkey (if you don’t know who these people are you better start reading through my archive posts, eh?). And of course, it was crazy good. I wanted crazy good.

The fact that we’d need a vat full of oil kind of vetoed the possibility. Maybe next year?

I was making Apple Pie. Boy and I fell in love with apple pie in Amsterdam and ever since it has been my life goal to recreate that joy. I sifted through hundreds (okay like 12) recipes until I’d found the winner, apart from Boy wanted to add sultanas. I told him if it was ruined then it’d be his fault and I’d have no shame in announcing that to everyone.

Whilst it was in the oven, Luke’s flatmate Guy had brought home decorations. My inner-Martha Stewart sprung out and I sprinkled Thanksgiving/Christmas spirit all over.

Pretty, hey?

We also made full use of the chalk-board in the kitchen.

I made a point of telling people that I’d brought two kegs of ale all the way from Bath and the dramatic traumas of carrying these all the way on the train.

It’s a shame I don’t like ale. I was sipping on champagne (Boy asked what I wanted to drink when he went to the supermarket and I didn’t really give him much more than a “uuuhhhhhhhh, anything”. He got it right).

Consequently, I was a little drunk by the time everyone came. Some bright spark decided to get out the cheese and crackers (and hummus?) though, so I went to town.

Everyone was chatting away whilst Boy and I maniacally tried to multi-talk being social and not burning the rest of the food.

Then, at last, it was all ready. I leaped over to bag a middle seat (you know you’d do the same). Boy sat next to me – I think he felt the guilt from my story of last Thanksgiving. Which was kind of my intention.

SO what did we make?

I demanded to have brussels sprouts, because when they’re done well, they’re insanely good. We roasted ours then fried it off with bacon, pine nuts, maple syrup, sultanas. They weren’t exactly how I wanted them, but then Boy added in a couple slabs of butter. Not the route I intended to take, but everything really is better with butter.

I also insisted we have Sweet Potato Mash with Marshmallow. Boy was very doubtful. He made his usual sweet potato mash, then I covered the top with marshmallow halves and stuck it in the oven for a few minutes.

He and everyone else agreed – it was bloody delicious.

Boy’s roasties (cute name for roasted potatoes) also made an appearance. 

And we had to have some veg, although I’m pretty sure Boy smothered these in butter too. These were the most attractive carrots I’ve ever seen. And skinny asparagus? Where have you been all my life? I’ll never go back to those fat old things ever again!

A few weeks ago I was on one of my vegan weeks, so sent Boy over the Nut Roast recipe from Honestly Healthy, just in case I was still vegan. I wasn’t (obviously), but it sounded so good that we made it anyway.

It was ridiculously good! Vegans, you need not worry, the answer to your Thanksgiving prayers are here! (He added an egg and some breadcrumbs in it, but lets not dwell on that).

Then, the turkey.

Look at that stuffing.

What a masterpiece.

(Apologies for the blurry picture –  I want to say it was the lighting but I was pretty drunk by now too).

My plate was piled high and I wondered if I had to wait until everyone’s plate was full until I started.

Surprise surprise, there wasn’t anything left on my plate. I also inhaled it (because I was drinking which means I was starving), which was a bloody stupid idea because I felt sick for the rest of the night.

I would’ve grabbed seconds, but I knew I had my apple pie. Oh, my beautiful apple pie.

My thick-crust, apple beauty. And sultana.

Its the best with whipped cream. I somehow ate two pieces, and everyone told me how it was the best pie ever. I’m still hoping they’re being honest and not just trying to be nice….

The thing is, Boy and I know what the ultimate apple pie should taste like. This was good, but it’s not perfect, so I won’t share the recipe with you just yet. I can’t give you anything but the best!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *