Today I attempted to cook my first solo Thanksgiving meal (I've been away from home for only two years, and my first two Thanksgivings as a pseudo-adult were conquered with family assistance), and I am happy to report that it was all delicious, all vegan, and mostly prepared sans drama. There was a pie casualty last night--Jason unwittingly turned off the timer and I couldn't tell if it needed more cooking, or was too cooked. I had botched the recipe to begin with, so having to start from scratch (which I did, ditching the pre-made crust and pie-in-a-can I had previously used) was a blessing in disguise.
Our menu of vegan fare, pictured at right, was: a colorful baby greens salad with three kinds of bell pepper, grape tomatoes, cashews, almonds, baby portabello mushrooms, carrots, and sundried tomatoes; Bisquick biscuits; a lasagna with tofu "ricotta" and whole wheat noodles; and "turkey" roasts filled with cranberries and stuffing from Garden Protein (they're new and delicious--Jason said they tasted just as good as the real thing--and can be ordered by health food stores through Sysco if they don't have them in stock already).
My aforementioned second pie was lovely to look at, although the crust was too salty for me (I blame the recipe). Jason loved the crust pumpkins I put on as the finishing touch. He likes the little things, my husband. We topped it off with Soy Delicious dairy-free vanilla ice cream and some sparkling mulled apple cider I bought at Mt. Vernon (George Washington's home) this summer.
Joining us for our meal were my grandma's yarn Indians, whom I inherited (along with much of the cookware I used to prepare and serve the food) when she passed away about a year ago. I've been thinking about her a lot these past few days. I was horrified to discover a $1 price sticker on one of them--it appears they had once been destined for (or part of) a garage sale. I'm relieved that they were rescued (or that nobody wanted to buy them)--I treasure them, just as I do everything I have from her home.
I heard Jason futzing in the kitchen just now--he's hungry again, but instead of having more pie or lasagna, he's eating a leftover slice of pizza from Wednesday (when my work brought in pizza for lunch to thank everyone who drove through flood waters to get there). A Thanksgiving feast at his disposal, and he picks old pizza--classic man.
Tomorrow we are going to a Christmas Market with (and I quote from the advertisement) "300 artisans--Featuring quality fine arts & crafts, Christmas collectibles, handcrafted edibles, & thousands of home decorating ideas for the holidays." It won't have the nostalgic value of the Christmas craft sale my university always has at the Union, but I can't resist the possibility of finding some unique treasures (and laughing at people who try to sell silly things like yarn Indians--they're only special if they're inherited from someone as undeniably cool as my grandma).