Ah, half a week has passed since Thanksgiving and we're probably still digesting our dinner. Thanksgiving is our favorite holiday. There are no gifts, or obligations, or expectations. It is simply a time to spend within the warm fold of family, whose members are willing to travel astonishing distances and weather systems (to an Englishman) to be together for just a few days. Even so, asking family to travel to New Zealand for Thanksgiving would have been asking a little too much and, at 35-weeks and change pregnant, Emeline and Kemp 2.0 weren't going anywhere farther than from the kitchen to the bathroom and back again.
And so we had to rely on ourselves. We are officially a family now, even though one of us is in utero and doesn't get to vote on what we have for dinner.
So we took the day off work, and we cooked for hours, preparing roasted potatoes and asparagus, gravy, and sage and onion stuffing with sausagemeat. Emeline made wonderful fresh cranberry sauce, and I oversaw slowly roasted pork shoulder, rubbed with a sage, olive oil and citrus zest concoction of my own making. For hours, our kitchen steadily grew steamier, and warmer, and better smelling. Emeline made a maple syrup pudding, which was ultra-delicious and should be made weekly from now on: imagine egg nog in a crust, unfortunately without the rum (this time anyway) and you'll have an idea of the sweet eggy taste of it. Even the weather complied and, despite it being early summer here, wet blustery winds shook all the TV aerials, and great dark thunderheads marched across the valley, coming in from the sea, hiding the hill behind our house, and drenching the city in cold wintry rain.
It was no substitute for time spent with family, and loud voices in the kitchen, but the three of us enjoyed our warm food-filled day together very very much. This is how traditions are begun. (ck)
And so we had to rely on ourselves. We are officially a family now, even though one of us is in utero and doesn't get to vote on what we have for dinner.
So we took the day off work, and we cooked for hours, preparing roasted potatoes and asparagus, gravy, and sage and onion stuffing with sausagemeat. Emeline made wonderful fresh cranberry sauce, and I oversaw slowly roasted pork shoulder, rubbed with a sage, olive oil and citrus zest concoction of my own making. For hours, our kitchen steadily grew steamier, and warmer, and better smelling. Emeline made a maple syrup pudding, which was ultra-delicious and should be made weekly from now on: imagine egg nog in a crust, unfortunately without the rum (this time anyway) and you'll have an idea of the sweet eggy taste of it. Even the weather complied and, despite it being early summer here, wet blustery winds shook all the TV aerials, and great dark thunderheads marched across the valley, coming in from the sea, hiding the hill behind our house, and drenching the city in cold wintry rain.
It was no substitute for time spent with family, and loud voices in the kitchen, but the three of us enjoyed our warm food-filled day together very very much. This is how traditions are begun. (ck)
Below: Chris making his lemon, orange, thyme, and sage marinade for the roast pork; roast pork being dressed by Chris; cranberry sauce on the boil; nutmeg and maple cream pie in the making; a pre-prandial Chris with our Thanksgiving lot (hasselback potatoes, sage and sausage stuffing, gravy, asparagus also shown).
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