Buying Thanksgiving Leftovers

Our Thanksgiving was already pretty untraditional: it was 100% store-bought (stay away from Zabar's brandied chestnut stuffing--tastes like gizzard pate with a liquored kick). And our guests were a pair of lesbians from the Maine woods. (Realizing this sounds like the beginning of Deliverance 2010--not a holiday meal.)

It was our first Thanksgiving with baby (coincidentally, our little turkey's first birthday, but I'll get to that later). And I had invited the new parent-friends over for Thanksgiving leftovers the next day. Then, the day before Thanksgiving it hit me: We may not have enough FOR leftovers. I panicked. I made my husband promise not to gorge. He scoffed. At the big meal, I politely suggested to my mother-in-law that, just maybe, she didn't need a third helping of mashed potatoes. She correctly ignored me. Not only was I counting MY calories--but everyone else's.

I couldn't wait for Black Friday to come. Not so I could go hunting for for half-priced electronics, but stale pumpkin pie. And so, the next morning, with more than half a 13 lb. turkey sitting in the fridge, and a pissed-off husband and slightly annoyed mothers-in-law at home, I trekked to Whole Foods to buy leftovers. Not surprisingly, the place was desolate.

I blame my heritage: being a Jew, we are preternaturally concerned with food and forever anxious there won't be enough. But logic also intervened. Since, we only had six guests coming over (two under a year-old), I limited my purchases to a better stuffing and three anxiety-reducing slices of white meat. Unfortunately, they had an herb crust--our bird did not--so I wiped them clean with paper towels and scattered the new slices amongst the authentic leftovers and hoped no one noticed. When all was said done and eaten, we still had almost a half bird left after the new parent-friends came and went, and, being a Jew--preternaturally obsessed with food going bad and paranoid about giving anyone a food-bourne disease, I threw that half a bird out.

Oy.