The house is in order once again. That has to be the quickest holiday recovery this house has ever had. Sharon, the lady who helps me with the major cleaning once every two weeks, arrived bright and early this morning, while I was still upstairs getting dressed.
"Do you have a hangover?" she asked. "Recovering from all that food?"
Recovering from all the work was more like it, I told her. I scarcely enjoyed my efforts, although everything turned out well, (this, in spite of the fact that my husband stepped on my insta-read thermometer, breaking it, and turning the turkey roasting into a guessing game.)
But something about this Thanksgiving has changed me. As I was preparing the feast on Wednesday and Thursday, I felt an inner shift taking place. Ever since I learned to bake as a young girl, I have mainly cooked so that I would have good things to eat. Now I sense it's more about creating a pleasurable experience for others.
My appetite, for certain things, for meat and heavy cooking of any sort, seems to be on hiatus. Today in the meat department of the supermarket, I felt great waves of revulsion pass over me and I longed for the tastes of clementine tangerines, spicy lentils, and almond kringle. I could have easily embraced vegetarianism, which appeals to me now and then. Maybe it was a post-Thanksgiving backlash, although it felt more like a post-my-entire-life-up-until-now backlash.
(Backlash is the word of the moment. A friend of my husband's sent me Thomas Frank's What's the Matter with Kansas and I've been digesting that with more gusto than any food lately, clementine tangerines excepted.)
For your viewing pleasure: The Brining Bird (Maybe this sight will pull at your vegetarian heartstrings. It looks as if there's a small child stuffed in that bucket.)
11:29:29 PM 
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