Wednesday, November 14, 2007


Can I just say that I LOVE Thanksgiving? I start dreaming about it in the summer. Then all the pie-making and turkey roasting accoutrements are put on display at the grocery store, then Thanksgiving-themed Food Network shows come on, and by the time November rolls around it takes all of my willpower to keep myself from "testing" recipes for stuffing and pie and sides and desserts- and by "testing" I mean "making and consuming all by myself". I cannot wait. There is only one week to go. I hadn't really thought about it, but I think Thanksgiving could be tied for my favorite holiday. What's not to love about a day full of cooking and eating and eating again because hello, it's Thanksgiving?

This Thanksgiving is especially exciting because, well, the last have been kind of disappointing. Three years ago we went back to see le hubby's family and we ate at a restaurant. WITH NO PUMPKIN PIE. Two years ago most of my family went up to my mom's for turkey, but we weren't able to go, so we went to my sister-in-law's family's thing. The food was good and they were very nice. So why would I complain about that? Well, because I was pregnant and all I wanted in the world on Thanksgiving were my mom's insanely good rolls. Hey, don't judge me. I am not ungrateful or ungracious. I did not complain ever... to them. Well, at least, not until now. But the fetus demands what it demands, and it was demanding mom's rolls. They were pregnancy cravings, people. Big, aching, mouth-watering pregnancy cravings. I HAD NO CONTROL. So, yes, the lovely gracious people who invited us to their lovely absolutely-nothing-wrong-with-it-except-not-having-mom's-rolls Thanksgiving dinner disappointed me. Sorry. I am evil. No, wait, I was PREGNANT, in case you forgot. Try it sometime. But, I digress. Last year Thanksgiving was being held across town. After I spent the day preparing my portion of the meal, my eight-month-old came down with a very high fever. Now, I love her, but again, the rolls. The year before I was having very vivid dreams about baked goods thanks to said child's incubation, and now she would be keeping me from them. For the love.

So, I am excited about this year. I'm not sure whose home I am going to, but my mom's rolls will be there. As will pie. And stuffing. Halle-frickin-lujah.

Thursday, November 1, 2007

Ladies Who Lunch

Every other Tuesday some of the women (Girls? Ladies? I never which category I fit in to. I mean, I guess at 26 I'm a woman, but still.) in our ward get together for "lunch group"- kinda like playgroup, but with food, and you don't have to have kids to come. I actually thought about doing something like this back in Vegas, but never really got up the motivation to do so, and couldn't imagine 20 kids tearing around our little townhouse. I'd crack. Anyway, when the weather was nice we would go to a neighborhood park, and now different women take turns hosting it. The only rule for lunch group is you have to bring something to share. No specific something, there's no sign up for main dishes and appetizers and such, but somewhow it seems to work out very well every time.

Bonus? Turns out one woman in our ward is writing a cookbook (and tests her delicious recipes on the group), one is part of some cooking group- and we again get to reap the rewards-, and a third is opening a bakery and needs people for tastings. This is me, in freaking heaven. It's like I landed in the midst of some sort of amazing food trifecta. The only thing that could make it better is if someone said that her aunt is Ina Garten and she will be joining us next time. I think I'd have to die immediately after said next time, not only from the heart attack brought on by her creamy buttery food goodness, but because I surely would not have another meal that decadent in the rest of my life. It'd be kind of sad for my family and friends, but if I could visit them from the grave, I would say, "The only thing you should be sad about is that you didn't get any of that food. Seriously. I died HAPPY."