Devonne Brown

I don’t care for turkey, besides, it’s heavy and hard to handle. This year, because I’m not paying two hundred dollars for beef, I’m making pork tenderloin Wellington and smoked turkey leg Wellington experiments. If they go well, I’ll do them again for Christmas. I have one boy home for Thanksgiving, so he’ll be my guinea pig. Anything wrapped in pastry makes it better. He’s especially excited about the pastry wrapped turkey leg. I’m kind of excited about it too. 

Since I learned to make rough puff pastry from the Great British Baking show during the pandemic, I’ve been making it during the holidays ever since. I made it frequently at first, and would continue to do so now, except that it’s quite high calorie and delicious. I love to eat it and I do gain weight easily, too easily. 

The boy also wants an apple pie with fresh apples in a puff pastry crust in my big fluted pie pan. He gets to peel them with my apple peeling contraption. The thing peels, cores, and slices apples into beautiful slivers perfect for baking. It’s been the boys’ job to peel apples since they were three years old, and I haven’t peeled the forbidden fruit since. It’s been a fine investment. 

We’ll have the other incidentals as well, green beans of course, we’re from Appalachia, where green beans are a necessity as well as a luxury. Did you know they can be doctored up from a can to taste exceptionally fancy? I’ve got half-runners in the freezer waiting for Christmas when both boys will be home. Half-runners are the preferred green bean of the Appalachian universe. 

I’m glad I’ve got a boy here for Thanksgiving this year, however humble it will be. Last year I spent my week off on the couch. Instead of cooking I bought olives, pickles, cheese and crackers, and assorted deli meats. I also bought a very nice bottle of Woodford Reserve. Sipping whisky and charcuterie wasn’t the worst way to spend the holiday alone, but this year will be better. I won’t have to fight with just Norris, that damned cat, for the remote, and the boy doesn’t like the parade either. He’ll be asleep anyway. I’ll wake him up in time to peel the apples.