Bulbs, Birds & Badly Timed Corn

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Fall's supposed to be the season of slowing down-of fires, sweaters, and soup spoons. It's still too warm for a fire, I did break out a sweatshirt this week and soup is not on the menu for Thanksgiving dinner.

Step right up and see all the bad things. Cured meats, canned fruit, creamed cheeses and imitation sugar. All secret ingredients for this year's Thanksgiving meal. Not the spray can of whipped cream. The spray can of whipped cream is for a yearly ritual. Those who know, know.

I've been hosting Thanksgiving dinner for years. With much experience comes much stupidity. For instance. If you serve potato chips and dip along with 14 other appetizers your guests will be glistening with sweat before they even sit down for the real dinner.

They will look unwell. Family cannot regulate themselves when presented with snacks. If you put out 172 pounds of snacks before dinner they will eat all 172 pounds.

People have vomited in the middle of my Thanksgiving dinners and then come back to the table to finish dessert.

So I am telling you - do not serve more appetizers than you're willing to clean up.

That's the kind of experiential advice (based on a vomit to appetizers ratio) that ChatGPT is never going to give you.

Planting Spring

I planted tulips and daffodils in clay pots for spring-some for outside, some to force indoors. It's the kind of calm, pastoral task that feels romantic until you've spent an hour bent over a wheelbarrow of soil and can't feel your spine.

(If you've never done it, here's how to pot up bulbs, you still have time.)

Snacks in the Penthouse

Just before dark the other night, I spotted Snacks (the owl) sitting on a new branch, high up and facing me. He looked pleased, like he'd finally found the corner office. Seconds later he silently flew over my head off to find a rodent.

(If you missed it, this is a day in the life of Snacks including making friends and bringing home dinner. You'll never forget it.)

The Week's Harvest

A lot of the picking I did this week was for Thanksgiving dinner. The rutabaga and mashed potatoes that will hit the table were grown in the garden. The onions and celery in the stuffing as well. The house and table will be decorated with flowers I've been cutting. I got a green bin full of dahlias, zinnia and Bells of Ireland.

The biggest surprise harvest was the Glass Gem corn. I planted it too late, barely watered it, and was prepared to accept my failure gracefully. But somehow, it ripened. A few cobs are perfect for saving seed; the rest are just absurdly pretty and good for decorating.

Table Under Construction

Would you like to save this stuff?

We'll email you this post, so you can refer to it later.

What decorating you ask? The corn ended up on my Thanksgiving table because I couldn't not. This is how beautiful Glass Gem corn is. The corn so beautiful it broke the Internet. Each guest gets their own ear. This was just a first pass at the table setting. It will continue to evolve until people put their napkins in their laps. And even then I may adjust.

Note the green sticky notes on the serving bowls reminding me and whoever helps me put stuff out of what to put in them.

Handsome Philip

Philip, for his part, was handsome. That's it. That was his contribution to this week.

Pickled Feelings

I made one jar of pickled biquinho peppers. Just one. It was the peppers from 1 plant. These are the tiny little sweet/hot peppers. But I think I'm going to redo them because I wanted them to be like the ones you can buy at the olive bar at my local grocery store. They should be softer, not as raw crunchy. They're pickled in a 2 part water, 2 part vinegar, 1 part sugar solution and that tastes about right. They just need a little softening.

To fix them I'll reboil the pickles (instead of just blanching) in the brine for a couple of minutes before jarring them again.

Desperation Snack

If I have nothing else, I mix peanuts and chocolate chips in a bowl.

Meanwhile at Betty's House ...

Betty has a bowl the size of circus tent filled with individual sized bags of potato chips on her coffee table 100% of the time. A shrine to snack preparedness and salt.

And here I sit. Chipless.

That was this week:

The bulbs are buried.
The owl's upgraded.
The corn pulled a miracle.

And I'm off to host Thanksgiving dinner for 12 with nothing more than a turkey, custom grown decorations and a bit less than a peck of pickled peppers. Happy Thanksgiving my Canadians.