Dearest Giblets and Drumsticks,
It’s the time of year again when your family and friends gather at your home to attack a single turkey, much like a lion tearing into a gazelle. As your guests settle around the Thanksgiving table, make sure they’re awed by your tableau of autumnal harvest.
Thanksgiving is not just a meal, my little pilgrims; it’s performance art. Your table décor should whisper, “I’m too good for your green bean casserole.”
Items that are required are:
· One table runner in fall tones. (Preferably velvet or linen. If you’re thinking a polyester blend, just shoot yourself with a musket; Thanksgiving is over.)
· Three dozen tea lights.
· A centerpiece of seasonal flowers, pumpkins, gourds, Indian corn, and real turkey feathers, if you’ve killed the bird yourself. (A general rule of thumb is that if you can see the guests across the table, you’ve failed. Martha Stewart will judge, and so will I.
You must use your finest china and silver. Unless you’re living in Downton Abbey and it’s an everyday occurrence, bring out the best on holidays. Don’t even think about paper plates and “rustic” plastic cutlery. If you do, I regret to inform you: you’re not hosting Thanksgiving. You’re hosting a potluck in the parking lot of Walmart.
The correct ambiance must be achieved when putting together the guest list. It’s not an open mic night for every second cousin with a red MAGA hat and strong opinions about chestnuts in your stuffing. Interpersonal relationships are crucial and must be carefully managed. Remember, you’re creating an event—an evening of innuendo, anxiety, emotional breakdowns, and multiple eye rolls will be your crowning achievement.
It's important to invite people who know how to use a coaster without direction. Also, ask at least one friend who bakes sourdough bread from scratch and possibly churns their own butter. If you can recruit one hot single guy from the gym with ambiguous sexuality and ask him to answer to the name “Miles Standish,” you’ll create real tension and intrigue.
If someone you invited says, “Can I bring the kids?” Reply with a gentle but firm, “No. This is not Chuck E. Cheese. Ask again when they’ve applied for college and have a driver’s license.” If they insist that their newborn won’t be a problem, counter with, “Just slide the little bundle back up the birth canal and I’ll set a place for you.”
Your menu should delight palates and not require Tums. It needs to be a carb fest. Include bread stuffing, mashed potatoes, rice, corn, lima beans, yams, baked beans, and cranberry relish as sides for the turkey and pumpkin pie, apple pie, pecan pie, brownies, chocolate chip cookies, cream puffs, assorted pastries, ice cream, and a case of Coca-Cola for dessert. Never serve anything called “salad.’ That is not what this holiday is about. This is the time for everyone to feel bloated and change into joggers with elastic waistbands.
Soon enough, they’ll slim down as Christmas decorating cranks up into high gear. Many calories are burned climbing ladders to install holiday lighting or dragging the Balsam Hill tree from the attic.
Dinner table conversations can be fraught with apprehension. My grandmother always says, “Holiday conversations are like landmines dressed in gravy boats.” Be prepared for an aunt or uncle to bring up politics and for one of the grandparents to say something that was already offensive in 1975.
Here are several tips:
· Smile like the Cheshire Cat after chewing a few gummies
· Refill wine glasses aggressively
· Change the subject to something innocuous like, “Are the dinner rolls still warm?” or “What’s everyone’s favorite Sex and the City episode?” – that will separate the men from the boys.
Remember, silence is golden. Especially when Aunt Dorothy starts a sentence with “I’m not racist, but…”
As the guests finish their last morsel and your house smells like a culinary crime scene, it’s time for the grand exit. Hand out parting gifts as everyone stumbles to the door in a food-induced stupor. A Ziploc bag of corn, a wishbone, and an extra drumstick are suitable farewell offerings—anything to avoid a refrigerator of leftovers.
Light your first pine-scented candle of the holiday season, put on Barbra’s Christmas album, and whisper:
“Remember, darlings… Thanksgiving is only once a year, and aren’t we all THANKFUL for that?”
Finally, my little tartlets, the most important part of any holiday is to know:
Presentation is everything. Family is optional.
From the arbiter of all things tasteful and proper with impeccable style and zero patience,
Gaylord Goforth
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