Happy Slapsgiving!

Although Thanksgiving is not celebrated here in Taiwan, I'm still clinging to my North American persona and rejoicing in this day dedicated to being thankful and stuffing your fucking face. I'm getting dinner tonight with Emily, Victor, and Richard at On Tap, where they're serving Thanksgiving dinner. Granted, I'd rather be cooking it myself, but my family doesn't celebrate this particular holiday plus none of my friends are in possession of an oven, so this will have to do.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING, EVERYONE!

A year ago, I hosted my first Thanksgiving. It was a fantastic experience. I had spent about a week planning the event with Tyler and Frank, and had researched all my recipes (thank you, www.simplyrecipes.com) and made up a decently extensive shopping list. The event was posted on Facebook as soon as we ironed out most of the details, and the race was off!

By the way, apologies beforehand for the incomplete photos. I was busy cooking for about 5 hours so didn't really have time to photograph everything before it was consumed...

I arrived at Frank's (where the dinner was being held) at around 3pm, and the poor man - hungover as all hell from the previous night of working at Flanigan's - had to endure my stressed out bitchiness the entire time we shopped at Carrefour. When we finally got back to his flat it was around 4:30, the guests were asked to arrive around 6, I got to cooking immediately. First order of business was to marinate the three chickens - couldn't find turkey - in lemon juice for an hour, flipping at the half-hour point.

There was then hours of dicing and cutting and peeling and boiling and mashing. I made my own garlic mashed potatoes with a(n) (un)healthy dose of butter and cream. A good tip that my friend gave me - that I should have thought of - was to boil the garlic along with the potatoes so that 1.) the potatoes absorb the garlic flavor while it's cooking and 2.) the garlic would be easier to mash along with, instead of dicing and painstakingly mixing it in later as I did. 

I also baked bruschetta, sans mozzarella, on some pan-fried baguette slices, as an appetizer. While this was happening, I boiled some eggs to set aside and chill for deviled eggs. I had bought a bunch of vine tomatoes for monetary reasons - Romas are such a splurge in France - and found myself with an over abundance of tomatoes, so I just diced the leftover tomatoes with some shallots and threw it into a bowl with bagged salad leaves and lemon juice, balsamic vinaigrette, and olive oil for a quick salad.

For the bruschetta, I parboiled the tomatoes to remove the skin, drained the juices, diced them, mixed with garlic, basil, and olive oil and threw in the fridge to let the flavors blend while I cleaned the Brussels sprouts and mushrooms. Mushrooms were easy: brush off the dirt (don't wash mushrooms, they soak up the water and get all weird), and snap off the stems. I cut them in quarters and set them aside. The sprouts, however, were more of a hassle. By the way, at this point, some of my friends had arrived early and started to help with the cooking. 

I had employed the help of 3 girls to help me peel off the first few outer layers of sprouts, which was an absolute fucking shitshow, but once we got through that, things were decently manageable. Boiled in hot water, drained, split in half, then sauteed with garlic, butter, and chopped almonds.

Somewhere around this time, the chickens were done marinating, so I took them out of their bags, drained them of lemon juice, and pat the skin dry. Oh, I forgot to mention that before I started marinating them, I had stripped the chickens of their giblets and innards and chopped off the butt and neck. I threw them in a pan, and sauteed them with some minced shallots and chicken stock to make some extra juices for stuffing. Yes, normally this is a step taken to make gravy, but since the chickens were already marinated in lemon juice and to be baked with a glaze of honey, I decided to forgo this step. 

This was delicious. I let this simmer for a little while and ended up picking out all the livers and such to munch on as treats before I strained the mixture to add to my stuffing. Oh, but back to the chicken. I drained the chicken of lemon juice, pat the skin dry, salt and peppered the poulet inside and out, then rubbed down the inside with some herbs. The oven had been pre-heated at 450 degrees fahrenheit, so I threw my lovely little birds into the hot box, breast side down. Leave them there for 45 minutes, and - this is the best part - at the 45 minute mark, glaze with microwaved honey (makes it more liquid and easier to brush), and flip so that the breast side is up, and bake for another half an hour at 350 degrees fahrenheit.

At this point, everything started blurring together because a.) I had been cooking for so long b.) the guests started pouring in c.) the kitchen started to get really crowded d.) someone kept pouring me wine. But during this time period, I served up a lazy serve-yourself bruschetta (toasted bread drizzled with olive oil and the tomato basil mixture on the side with a spoon), sauteed the mushrooms, made stuffing, finished the deviled eggs, and plated some canned corn. Alice also arrived somewhere around this time, carrying with her a BEAUTIFULLY baked pecan pie for dessert. It was marvelous.

So me, being in a drunken, cooking shitstorm, fatigued haze, insisted that all my guests - about 11 of them - sit down and begin eating while I finished the chicken; at one point, however, they all demanded that I put aside my cooking for 5 minutes to grab a bite to eat, so I hastily said a few words of thanks, yelled a "bon appetit!", stuffed myself with a deviled egg and a bruschetta, then sprinted back into the kitchen to finish baking my chicken. 

And here is the finished product:

Is that gorgeous or what? Everything was falling apart at the joint, as you can see, the meat was so beautifully tender from having been broken down by the acidic juices, and the skin had the perfect texture between firm and melting - and everything was just melded together in a gorgeous harmony of sweet honey and zesty lemon.

This was absolutely fucking delicious. Here you can also see the sauteed mushrooms in the background with some stuffing and mashed on the plate on the right. 

The best part? I wasn't even hungry anymore after all that cooking. I had promised Oscar that I would bring him a plate of food when I was done since he was working and couldn't make it upstairs, so I threw a plate together for him and carried it downstairs wrapped in tin foil. 

As you can see, we had long run out of bruschetta at that point, but I managed to grab Oskie a piece of most everything. The sprouts turned out a bit too raw - okay, much too raw - and had a very interesting mustard-like kick to it, and the stuffing was a bit heavy on the olives - my olive choppers were too busy flirting to notice they had chopped too much - but apart from that, my diners had no complaints.

That was my first dinner party, and ever since then, I've been hooked. I know tonight's dinner is nowhere going to be as stressful or hectic or genuine or fun, but I'm not going to have to slave over a stove for long hours so I really can't complain. Instead, I should be thankful, since that IS the general sentiment of this holiday.

So here goes. 

I am thankful for my family, for all they have put up with me in the past few years, for supporting me and pointing out what I can improve upon (as frustrating as it is) and for their general good health. I am thankful for my friends, and how they have seen me through my best and my worst, and haven't gotten sick enough of me to leave me altogether. I am thankful for all the people that I've met in the past year who have influenced my life, for better or for worse, and I am thankful for all the bonds I've created across the globe. I am thankful for my freedom and for lady luck, who has definitely been watching over me, and for my subconscious, which has managed to keep me alive through all my debauchery. 

This bliss is something that everyone should have in their lives, and I am so thankful that I have it in mine.

Have a great one, darlings.