PreThanksgiving -- the mental state

I don't know what it is, but there is something so soothing about cooking. Not necessarily in the preparation, when you are cutting and slicing and watching the clock. But the aftermath. When the smells of a good meal are wafting through the house, when folks have settled down to their after-dinner activities and you have the kitchen to yourself.

G surprised me and asked for a turkey. I didn't think he'd care. I had planned for us to hit a matinee, just the two of us. But he asked for the turkey and I obliged. I still have no sense of proportion and bought a 16-pounder. It's what I'm used to cooking. But it's laughable, considering my appetite. I went ahead and made the sides: stuffing, mashed potatoes (always a must). I did buy cranberries but skipped them when I considered that G probably wouldn't touch them.

Turkey was decent. My mom would have loved it. Dark brown, just like they show in the Williams Sonoma catalogs; nice, crispy skin. Stuffing was a little soggy -- I overdid the chicken broth. But the mashed potatoes were perfect -- nice and fluffy. And wouldn't you know it, G balked at the turkey. He said he thought it would be yucky. But he liked it in the end.

But now I'm staring at the clean-up required (the boyfriend called and interrupted my homemaker bliss) ;) and now I'm just thinking, couldn't I throw the pots and turkey roaster into the self cleaning oven and just call it a day? The self cleaning oven has also overtaken the good food smells, so now, the prevalent scent in my place is charred oven. Did I say cooking is fun? Did I?