Tonight’s dinner – white and dark turkey, whole cranberry sauce, and Gournay cheese with garlic and herbs on toasted sourdough, accompanied by a glass of cider – was almost as good as last night’s. A tad bit less effort, too.
I’ll try warmed turkey, stuffing, and gravy in the next sandwich
The gravy definitely improved the problematic mash (see below)
Good results yesterday: Five wins, one tie, one loss.
Best turkey I’ve roasted, tying with two I’ve done in recent weeks
Best gravy I’ve made
Best cornbread, bacon, and sage stuffing – we winged it, combining recipes of Julia Child and Martha Stewart, modifying to suit us
The slow-roasted sweet potatoes worked nicely – we added maple syrup, cinnamon, salt, and pepper only; no need for butter
Best banana cream pie, made more subtle and luxurious by decreasing the sweetness slightly and adding a half-teaspoon more than the usual two teaspoons of banana extract (the real stuff)
Neutral: The peas with mint and finely shredded wilted lettuce were good, but I missed my usual butternut squash with nutmeg and white pepper and will restore it at Christmas.
Loss: I cannot recommend slow-roasted potatoes for making mashed; there was a graininess that refused to be riced away and the taste was not right. To be honest, if there had been a store open yesterday where I could get a half-dozen potatoes, I would have tossed the lot and started again. Back to the usual boiling or steaming next time for silky smooth and pure potato-flavoured mash.
A fine-toothed comb is passed through that “five months stranded in a sailboat” story from the other day in a delightfully expert fashion here.
When I initially read the story in the news, it was the fantastical shark details that wafted up to my crinkling nose not unlike a stagnant rock pool, but nothing about the story they told made sense, really. The not-so-finely crafted fish tale struck me as the ramblings of two small children who’ve broken a lamp and quickly invent a fairly complete but nonsensical alternate universe in which impish goblins did it, not them. In this case, one presumes with the hope of selling the Fantastic Unbelievable Story of the Broken Lamp and the Goblins for six or seven figures.
“And then, and then, and then, a force eleventy-‘leven storm hit for three days and it didn’t even show up on the satellite because the goblins hid it and stuff!”