Il Giorno Di Grazie

This year for Thanksgiving, Shannon took pity on her single city girl friend and invited me to Long Island for the big feast. Her parents were in town for the weekend, and I was thrilled to meet them and to have a surrogate family to spend time with on Thursday. I only wish she would have let me make a pie. Next year.

The only thing I didn't think about until the day of was the tremendous crowds at Penn Station- people who'd just watched the parade, men, women and children from all five boroughs going home to L.I. for the holiday, etc etc. I wish I'd taken a photo of the crowd, but I was too flustered trying to get my ticket and a cup of coffee on my way to the train.

Luckily, I ended up with a pretty good seat on the train with my joe and Discman - what else does a travelin' girl need?


Just a ticket and a bright green coat, I guess.


The day, like every other Thanksgiving I've spent in New York, was rather dreary, but the barrenness makes for some romantic scenery against converging train tracks outside the window.


The LIRR was running extra trains for the occasion, and I think I got stuck on one from the 1950s. The seats were sealed up with masking tape.


When I got to Shannon and Mike's house, all gender roles were in their proper places: the men were watching football and Shannon and her mom were cooking up a storm. Mimi (Shannon's mom) was showing her how to make twice-baked sweet potatoes. Let me say that again. TWICE-BAKED SWEET POTATOES. Oh my God. I learned too.


You put like a pound of butter, some brown sugar and something else in the saucepan and mix it up real good, then you mix it with the innards of the sweet potato. I don't think they're supposed to be called "innards."


We all agreed, "Today is not the day for dieting." I am of the firm belief that no day is, but that's just me.


While we cooked, Shannon's dad and Mike went outside to toss around a baseball for awhile. Definite Y-chromosomes here.




Mimi showed Shannon how to baste.


I looked with lust upon the pies.


We had a little bit of time between food preparations, so we had some soppressata and cheese and played Phase-10. It was divine.

Shannie had a heckuva time slicing that meat, but she showed it who's boss.


I took my turn at basting.


I don't know why, but I really like basting. I think it's because I know I'm good at it.


Shannon and I were both going to peel potatoes for mashing, and decided to have a peel-off. (I wonder if strippers ever have contests and call them peel-offs. haha.) Before we got started, we posed for the photo just like Tyra Banks has taught us on "America's Next Top Model." I think Shannon nailed this one; she's more angled toward the camera. Sigh, I must pack my belongings and go home.


Then we got down to brass tacks. Bet you've never seen me assist in cooking before, huh?


I swear to God, Shannon was more adorably domestic than I've ever seen her. I mean, she is pretty domestic anyway I suppose. She lives in a real house. And she has cookbooks. And her home decorating skills rival even my mother's (and that's saying a lot). But this day she really pushed the limit of June Cleaver-age. I asked if I could capture her perfect domesticity, and naturally she spent ten minutes in the bathroom fixing her makeup for the shot.

Perfect. Adorable.


AND she hand-mashes potatoes. Evidently, she used to have a mixer, but now she only has the handle and not the mixing attachments. We have a theory that Kerri stole them as a souvenir of their co-habitation.


I marveled at how well they timed every little thing to ensure that all the food came out at the same time. Look at this amazing (and amazingly basted) turkey. Gorgeous.


Shannon had some stylin' table settings.




Dude, I want a chandelier.




For two bloggers, no event is complete without copious amounts of photography.


Especially of each other.


We finished putting the last bits of food onto the table, including these perfect (seriously! This is getting ridiculous) dinner rolls.


Where is my butter?


Now it was time for the men to take over. Shannon's papa demonstrated the proper way to slice a bird this big. He is very experienced in this practice.


He taught Mike, so as to pass down the tradition.


Look at this food. Dear reader, I must tell you, I have never had such an amazing Thanksgiving dinner before. No offense to my own family, but I usually have a few bites of everything and then six slices of pie. I'm all about the sweets - Mom's apple pie and Grandma's banana cream pie are what I look forward to all year. But this meal was unlike any Thanksgiving feast I've ever had. I didn't even really have dessert. And that is saying a lot.


It must have been the twice-baked sweet potatoes that did it.


Speaking of dessert, after we spent quite awhile at the dinner table (listening to a CD I made specially for the occasion), we took a break to do some dishes, then began the dessert portion of the evening. Mikey Mike (as Shannon's niece and nephew call him) took it upon himself to hand-whip some cream for topping. Seriously - homemade whipped cream.


It was very cool of him to do that, at least until he smeared Shannon in the face with the goods.


Awww. That deserves some retaliation, no?




He totally had it coming. Don't worry, I didn't escape unscathed either. I got my share of sweet face.


After attempting to stuff a few bites of dessert into my mouth, I was done for. We played a few rounds of Left Right Center, which was some good wholesome fun.

Then it was time to head home. The train was packed, even at 9pm. Plenty of tryptophan-addled thanks givers to be slyly spied upon.


I am grateful for much in my life - great friends, wonderful family, steady job with a good company, awesome home, a new president to look forward to. One part of my life I'm especially grateful for this year is my girl Shannon - astounding friend, literary supporter, art patron, complaint receptor, fellow dancer/reveler/music enthusiast. Shannon, thank you for having me over for Thanksgiving and thank you for being my best betch. Ya gawgeous.


love,
*jenna*