My birthday is coming up this month. This past weekend, one of my sisters and two of her sons came to visit me. It was a last minute decision road trip and I was excited to hear they were coming.
A few details pertinent to the story. I live 350 miles away from the rest of my family. That includes my mom, sisters, their families and kids and my brother. They all live in the same general area, no more than 30 minutes apart from each other. I decided 12 years ago that I belonged in a different area, and proceeded to replant myself in coastal North Carolina. If you have read any of my past entries, you know I have recently suffered from heart problems. That being said, on with the story.
So, Friday I got on one of the social websites I use, and my sister chatted me and said, "find me prices on a motel room for the weekend, I am coming down". Oh, okay! I go tell my boyfriend and he looks around the living room and says "we have some cleaning to do". Yes we did. I had let the house get a little messy this past week. So we straighten up the house, and waited for their arrival.
My sister wanted to take me out to dinner for my birthday that is coming up in two weeks, and she told me to decide where I wanted to go. After thinking on it, I could think of nothing better than going to dinner in my own back yard. So we got all the provisions from the store, and proceeded to cookout.
My boyfriend got the fire started in the firepit and my sister and I grilled. The fire was going beautifully and the weather was great. Food was wonderful and I had the best time I have had in a very long time!! My nephews enjoyed helping with the fire. (It's okay, they are 21 and 17 years old.) We sat outside for over three hours, enjoying the breeze, the fire, the company, the food. And oh yeah, the home made sangria.
It is moments like this where the atmosphere is perfect, if only for a split second, that my defenses go down and I begin to think. I do miss my family, I wish I could see them more often. I need to make the effort to see them more often. Don't get me wrong, its not that we don't communicate. I talk to one of my family members at least daily and most of them once a week. Ahh, the beauty of internet chatting and unlimited long distance phone service.
Life is short. Remember that sometimes the little things are the most important. Love, live and laugh every day. Pet a child and kiss an animal. Ohh, maybe that should be the other way around. Ha! Ha!
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Friday, October 31, 2008
The Other Side of A Turkey
With Thanksgiving right around the corner, it brings back memories of my childhood and all the amazing country cooking my Mom did. Holidays were no exception. Growing up I was always mesmerized at the skill and efficiency my Mom put food on our dinner table. I thought she must be a magician or something. I was allowed to sit on a stool, out of the way, and watch very quietly. Sometimes she would allow me to help stir something or cut potatoes. I was eager to help with anything, waiting for the day it was my turn to create that magical buffet. And arrive it did.
At the age of 12, I asked permission to cook the family’s Thanksgiving Dinner. It was an undertaking of giant proportions for my first attempt at the magical buffet. With the help of my Mom, we laid everything neatly on the kitchen counter in an orderly fashion. A habit I still use to this day in my professional career as a Chef. Going over the menu again to be sure everything was there, I was ready. Then I promptly banned her from her own kitchen, of course until I needed her. Even in my unbridled excitement, my hands steadily wielded knife and spoon. Timing every dish to arrive on the table like synchronized dancers arriving on stage. At least it mostly went that way.
In our Southern tradition, there were mounds of fresh vegetables transformed into delicious side dishes. Fresh potatoes mashed to soft mounds, green beans canned from the summer bounty with a ham hock peaking out form the middle and giant sweet potatoes swimming in brown sugar and spices with golden brown mini marshmallows perched on top. Plump golden corn, sliced carrots, and sweet green peas, all smothered in sweet cream butter. There was fresh baked bread, rolls and cornbread. The aroma of cinnamon and spices from the pies still baking in the oven filled the air. It was like a food Heaven.
Then there was the turkey. The center of attention of whole table! I was so proud when I brought it in and sat it in front of my Dad for his approval. Browned to perfection with our family’s special stuffing peaking form the inside. It just made your mouth water just smelling it. My Dad picked up his knife and gently pushed the carving fork into the breast of the bird, but something was wrong. The fork would only go in a couple of inches. With everything going so right, of course I thought immediately I had cooked the bird too long and it was tough and dried out. While my Dad inspected the cause of the unyielding bird, the whole family just held their breath until he voiced his verdict. Finally, he just rolled the whole thing over and began successfully carving, to the delight of everyone and the shock of myself. As it turned out, I had cooked the bird upside down! That was one of the juiciest turkeys we had ever had. The fluids from the dark side had tenderized and moistened the breasts as it lay in the oven cooking away. That was when I learned there was nothing wrong with the other side of a turkey.
At the age of 12, I asked permission to cook the family’s Thanksgiving Dinner. It was an undertaking of giant proportions for my first attempt at the magical buffet. With the help of my Mom, we laid everything neatly on the kitchen counter in an orderly fashion. A habit I still use to this day in my professional career as a Chef. Going over the menu again to be sure everything was there, I was ready. Then I promptly banned her from her own kitchen, of course until I needed her. Even in my unbridled excitement, my hands steadily wielded knife and spoon. Timing every dish to arrive on the table like synchronized dancers arriving on stage. At least it mostly went that way.
In our Southern tradition, there were mounds of fresh vegetables transformed into delicious side dishes. Fresh potatoes mashed to soft mounds, green beans canned from the summer bounty with a ham hock peaking out form the middle and giant sweet potatoes swimming in brown sugar and spices with golden brown mini marshmallows perched on top. Plump golden corn, sliced carrots, and sweet green peas, all smothered in sweet cream butter. There was fresh baked bread, rolls and cornbread. The aroma of cinnamon and spices from the pies still baking in the oven filled the air. It was like a food Heaven.
Then there was the turkey. The center of attention of whole table! I was so proud when I brought it in and sat it in front of my Dad for his approval. Browned to perfection with our family’s special stuffing peaking form the inside. It just made your mouth water just smelling it. My Dad picked up his knife and gently pushed the carving fork into the breast of the bird, but something was wrong. The fork would only go in a couple of inches. With everything going so right, of course I thought immediately I had cooked the bird too long and it was tough and dried out. While my Dad inspected the cause of the unyielding bird, the whole family just held their breath until he voiced his verdict. Finally, he just rolled the whole thing over and began successfully carving, to the delight of everyone and the shock of myself. As it turned out, I had cooked the bird upside down! That was one of the juiciest turkeys we had ever had. The fluids from the dark side had tenderized and moistened the breasts as it lay in the oven cooking away. That was when I learned there was nothing wrong with the other side of a turkey.
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