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All posts tagged thanksgiving

our thanksgiving

plates

More holidays should be like Thanksgiving (and I don’t just mean because of the food). In my family, this day means the four of us gathered around the table in the middle of a Thursday, eating comfort food, with Bailey somewhere nearby. We don’t exchange presents and we don’t spend hundreds of dollars. There aren’t any Thanksgiving songs to sing or Thanksgiving movies to put on. There’s the meal, and the random television shows after, but there’s little else. It is filled with everything that matters and none of what doesn’t. And this year, on a day when the hot water went out and the weather got much colder and two fire trucks rushed to our neighbor’s for some kind of emergency, we were blessed to look around and see not what we lack but what we have. You know, this little family I have been given are the three people I have fought most with in this life, the ones who know exactly what drives me crazy and who have seen me at my most selfish and ugly, and we disagree on many things, but, I know I don’t say this enough: I am so thankful for them.

Here’s a look, via photos, at our Thanksgiving:
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good enough for grazing

granola bars

This may seem a strange thing to say, the day before the nation’s biggest food holiday, especially one in which I’ll be doing the cooking, but here it is: I’m not really one for huge meals.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love Thanksgiving. It’s right up there with Easter as my favorite holiday. Every end of November, I love that we have a specific, routine reminder to stop and be grateful for all we’ve been given, and of course part of that is the table spread with turkey and stuffing and sweet potatoes and mashed potatoes and green been casserole and rolls and Jell-O molds and pies. But, if I were to offer one small complaint with this holiday, it is this: the indulgence of eating all those good things—and so much of them—at one, long, stuffing-yourself-until-your-pants-don’t-fit sitting. I’d much prefer to graze all day, and in fact, that’s what I do.

In my family, at Thanksgiving, we make more turkey than we need, so we can have sandwiches for a week after. We save all the sides and have entire meals, days later, of exactly the same thing. And a few years ago, when my then-boyfriend came to meet my family the day after The Big Thursday, we re-created the entire spread, as fully as if it had been the real deal.

One day of feasting becomes a week or more of quality grazing, and that’s exactly how I like it.

So anyway, this year, you could blame my lack of worry on last year’s relative success, as now I plan to pull everything together as the day unfolds, without a single to-do list or written strategy at my side. Or you could thank my parents, who paid for all the groceries and my mom who simply asked for a list and went and bought everything. You could say it’s because we’re staying in Illinois instead of transporting all kitchen tools and food up to the family cabin in Wisconsin like we did last year. But the truth is probably even simpler: I’m not worried about Thanksgiving because I’ve had my mind fixed on other things, things like trying new Brussels sprouts, making faux trail mixes of hazelnuts and chocolate, eating bowls of scalloped tomatoes for dinner, before snacks of clementines and then cookies with apple cider. You could see the pattern in my eating and rightly conclude: this girl’s got her mind on grazing, even at Thanksgiving, so when everyone’s talking turkey, she’s eating granola bars.
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Hedged Bets & New Traditions

making new traditions with cinnamon rolls

In my family, Thanksgiving mornings have always been quick, light bites first thing when you wake, as the scent of roasting turkey barely begins to float through the kitchen. In our pajamas, we eat cereal, cups of coffee, maybe a piece of toast. But, anticipating, we stop there. It’s no different than any other kind of delayed gratification, just like working this week means a paycheck next or not buying yourself new clothes—not even the creamy white coat with the 3/4 sleeves—means more money in your savings account or a little extra to spend on Christmas gifts.

That’s all well and good, most years. When the turkey is a sure thing, when the stock market is strong, by all means put off pleasure. Look ahead to the later reward.

But what about when the long-term benefit seems a little, well, unsure? This year, for example, the economy is in flux. Also, I’d be responsible for getting the Thanksgiving meal on the table. While very different situations, putting all my faith in the chances of the meal going well could be as foolish as putting all my money into one Big Company.

Always one to hedge my bets, this year I made a Thanksgiving back-up plan. Even if I burnt the turkey or the stuffing lacked flavor, at least I’d know no one went hungry. Contrary to tradition, I’d make a breakfast tasty enough to distract my family without overstuffing them, buying me extra cooking time.

Enter pumpkin cinnamon rolls. These tender pillows can be made before you go to bed and left covered in the draft-free, unheated oven overnight. In the morning, remove the towel to find fluffy, fat circles of dough, rich with ribbons of cinnamon, ready to be baked.

pumpkin cinnamon rolls

Fresh from the oven, these rolls emerge plump and golden, decorated with dark cinnamon stripes and bubbling over with browned butter. Let them cool a bit, then top with caramel frosting, a homemade blend of butter, sugars, milk and vanilla that softens on the warm, pumpkin-colored dough and dissolves into its crust. The entire kitchen will be aglow with warm cinnamon and yeast, drawing sleeping family members with curiousity. And be prepared: these go quickly. I found myself, waiting on onions for the stuffing to cook, reaching for another bite of breakfast with a free hand, pulling at one end of the cinnamon roll and breaking it off into a curved, sugary piece, crystallized at the top with icing.

iced pumpkin cinnamon rolls

By the time the turkey was half-cooked, three rolls were left. By the time the turkey was done, one.

Oh, and also, that whole rule about not eating in order to have room for the meal? Total rubbish. By the time the meal was hot, dished up and plated, we were more than ready. Truly, this whole experience is enough to make me throw caution to the wind and insist on instant gratification in all of life or, at least, possibly, with a new pair of jeans.

Pumpkin Cinnamon Rolls
Adapted from Isabelle Boucher

Ingredients:
1 package dry yeast (about 2 1/4 teaspoons)
1/4 cup warm water
2 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 cups canned pumpkin
1/2 cup milk
1/4 cup butter, melted
1 Tablespoon sugar
1 1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon each ground nutmeg and cardamom
3 Tablespoons butter, softened
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon vanilla
1 Tablespoon cinnamon

Icing Ingredients:
1/4 cup butter
1/2 cup brown sugar, packed
2 Tablespoons milk
1/4 teaspoons vanilla extract
Dash of salt
1/2 to 3/4 cup sifted confectioners’ sugar

Directions:
NIGHT BEFORE: Dissolve yeast in 1/4-cup of warm water in a small bowl; let stand for 5 minutes. Mixture should be foamy if your yeast is still good (and if it isn’t, toss it out and start over with fresh; if it helps at all, I did stir mine just a bit to get the foam to come).

In a large bowl, mix together 2 cups flour, pumpkin, milk, melted butter, sugar, salt and spices; stir in yeast mixture and continue stirring until evenly mixed. Turn dough out onto a floured surface. Begin kneading; as you go, add the remaining 3/4 cup of flour, a bit at a time, until the dough is soft and elastic (it should feel a bit tacky, but shouldn’t stick to your hands).

Place the dough in a large bowl that has been lightly oiled, turning to coat top. Cover and let rise in a warm draft-free place for 45 minutes or until doubled in size.

Meanwhile, prepare the cinnamon filling by stirring together the softened butter, brown sugar, vanilla extract and cinnamon in a small bowl until smooth. Set aside.

Punch dough down; cover and let rest for 5 minutes. Roll the dough into a 12 x 10 rectangle on a floured surface. Spread the cinnamon mixture in a thin layer over the dough.

Roll up the rectangle tightly, starting with a long edge, pressing firmly to get rid of any air pockets; pinch seam and ends to seal. Cut roll into 12 (1-inch) slices. Place slices in a lightly buttered 13 x 9 rectangle pan. Cover with a towel and place in an unheated oven overnight.

IN THE MORNING: Remove pan from oven and remove towel. Preheat oven to 375°. Bake rolls for 20 minutes or until golden brown. Let cool for 15 minutes before drizzling with caramel icing.