Goodness. I made such a feast.
For Fern and me. Bob had other plans. I'm not pouting. But I will remind him as often as I feel it is appropriate to do so that he was not with me on the glorious holiday that celebrates food. And my cooking. He loves my cooking.
I will describe in great detail the golden hue on the butter topped flaky buns and how they smelled like yeasty heaven come down when the oven released their delicious aroma. And how the stuffing I made tasted of fresh sage, celery and hickory nuts with the tiniest slivers of roasted garlic. And my pumpkin pie with the home crafted cloud of whipped cream melted in my mouth. The brown sugar glazed pecans adding just the texture needed to complete the bite.
Yes.
I will tell him.
He spent Thanksgiving in a restaurant. Have you ever?
But, on a positive note I did get Fern to read this article and agree that she doesn't want to be a cat in the Lord's kingdom. I think she is warming to Fifi, finally.
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