Quarantinesgiving was my 1st Thanksgiving

By November 2020, COVID-19 had made one spring, one summer, and one fall interesting. And we were about to find out what it had in store for us for The Holidays™. My parents, siblings and I had mutually agreed that the priority was keeping my parents safe. That would mean limited and cautious visits with the grandkids, especially. At the time, older people were the most at risk, and the youngest ones were most likely to be silent carriers. Cases were surging, no vaccines yet. No pressure! Just don’t mess up and kill grandma! [Nervous laughter]

Like Halloween before it, I was determined to have some sort of Thanksgiving. God knows why, it’s not like a top ten holiday for me. Quarantining with littles meant going without much of what we had been accustomed to — freedom, spontaneity, outings, time with friends and family, etc. For me, it also meant going without any help after delivering my second, and emergency-esque surgery. We’d been slogging our way through it, and dammit we were due for some celebration!

I was woefully under-qualified to host any version of a Thanksgiving, and I don’t remember all the thinking that landed with me hosting this pressure-filled gathering, but 2020 was nothing if not different, right? “Just think of it as a dinner party. You've thrown all of one of those in your adult life, surely you can pull off Thanksgiving-lite,” she said to herself, like a happy idiot.

Being outdoors was the first parameter. So much would depend on the weather. Some layers, extra blankets on-hand, a fire pit ready to go — with a little luck, we just might pull this off.

Then came the meal part of the planning. F#cking hell. I’m the child of a talented cook, but I did not inherit those genes. This was going to require some research… not a problem for a nerd from a family of nerds. And knowing when you’re out of your depth is a wisdom that age and experience blessed me with. Ah humility, you quiet, priceless asset!

I kinda like to take it easy these days. I don’t willingly sign up for high pressure situations. And to me, Thanksgiving is about as high pressure as holidays get. Between the traditions, the food, what people have come to expect… there’s a lot of pressure to get it “right.” But COVID created the kind of situation that would have been the *only* way to get someone like me to take on Thanksgiving. Since everyone’s expectations had been thrown out the window, I could get a pass on not delivering the holiday they'd come to expect.

In my career, I make a habit of regularly clarifying with clients and partners: What is the goal? (I’ve found this is also a handy way to center yourself when feeling overwhelmed by everyday stuff, too.) So when it came to tackling Turkey Day, I brought everything back to zero and started from scratch. Put aside everything you can about what you think is required of you in this moment. Focus. What's most important?

Stuffing? Nope.

Gravy? Sorry.

Pie?? Multiple! Again, focus on what matters, people.

Okay, there has to be a bird. And I'm going to have to cook it. I'll figure out that later.

What else? Places to eat. Things to eat with. We'll have to be outside. How to make it as comfy as possible out there? Set up the fire pit. Have blankets. Mom has a serving thingie that keeps things warm — I'll borrow that. Okay, back to the food. What else? Some vegetable. Green beans. We’re Americans, stuck on starches, so… potatoes? Bread? Both? Mom makes legendary sweet potato rolls. I'm not trying to touch that. I'll ask her to bring. (I love potluckiness — it’s homey/intimate. More authentic or something.)

The bird

I accidentally bought two. I won’t get into it. (Side eye: Whole Foods.) Having a backup is probably a happy accident, especially for a newbie. Better to have too many turkeys than too few, eh?

I'd never cooked an entire turkey, or any other bird, or entire anything, ever. Maybe an entire potato? A spaghetti squash? But I was officially out of my depth. I'm a once and future vegetarian, and current reluctant eater of fish and poultry. Pregnancy required me to open up my diet, but I never got comfortable with raw... things. [Shudder] I knew I couldn't reach up a turkey, let alone yank out anything. (I was later assured that my procured turkey would be civilized: all its inside bits would be bagged up and easy to remove. Wonderful. I’ll be wearing gloves up to my elbows until the thing is in the oven, and would still require someone else to remove the, er, bag.)

I got a lot of advice before even buying a bird. Thank goodness there's no shortage of advice on the internet! First things first, how big of a turkey do I need? Then, what all will I have to do to it? How will I cook it? How long will that take? What time will we want to eat, because apparently there’s this magical window of “resting” the hot bird wants, and then it’s on! Feed time! But I gotta time it all just right.

Anecdotally I understood that moisture is a big deal. A dry turkey is a sad turkey. So I read about how to (hopefully) avoid that. I settled on dry brining and stuffing the lil chonk with apple and lemon slices among the herbs etc. This should add moisture and make it smell lovely while taking up the oven all day, methought.

Fun fact: sliding lemon slices under the skin was a good move for moisture AND had the added bonus of making it look like the turkey had tits — everyone’s favorite! What holiday or family get-together is complete without them? So, be aware, or you’re welcome. Either way.

If you’re the Go Big or Go Home type, here’s some inspiration that’ll keep grandma and grandpa talking for many Thanksgivings to come <3

Source: https://www.sunnyskyz.com/blog/1820/Lighten-The-Mood-This-Thanksgiving-With-Lemons

The big day

Mother Nature gifted us a mostly sunny, 50s-something day. We were a go for dinner! Mismatched tables and chairs were set up in the backyard. A wintery tablecloth here, a springy floral one there. Inside, potatoes and green beans went about as well as one would imagine. They're simple, reliable things I'd made a million times, therefore unlikely to explode the day somehow. To my great surprise, the turkey turned out lovely.

There was a lot of rushing. A lot of running around, setting up this and that. I had a toddler and a nursing infant at the time — little, mobile agents of chaos. But somehow we made it work. And what made it work was our collective willingness to let sh!t go. To be content with the day we created within the limitations forced upon us.

Thanksgiving in and of itself isn't my favorite. Politically it’s … ugh. It makes me want to give speeches in the style of the teacher in Dazed and Confused: "Don't forget while you're shoving mashed potatoes and gravy down your gullet that the colonizers turned to cannibalism and would have starved had it not been for…" Anyhoo… The point. What makes Thanksgiving good is the gathering — seeing our loved ones, and spending focused time together. Everything is closed, right? So we’re stuck together! Yay, bonding!

My siblings Thanksgiving-ed with their individual families, and the family text thread was hopping with photos back and forth of each celebration. It amused me that it was kind of like looking at personality test results. Each sibling’s Quarantinesgiving reflected their individual style. From the choice in dishes, to preparation style, and how each gauged whether their dinner was successful.

For my part, I was too busy running around to take many photos. But there’s this one, from after the dust settled.

Turkey legs up, ladies!