Each holiday my sister-in-law and I trade hosting the family for a fete.  There are five sisters-in-law and a mother-in-law, but there are two of us who seem to alternate  hosting the events - if she’s Christmas, then I’m Thanksgiving. The family seems to despise the get-togethers and begrudgingly accepts the invitation because it is, after all, a cooked meal, and what else ya gonna do on a holiday?

The sister-in-law of whom I speak has similar taste and personality to me and we both enjoy setting a nice table and going to great lengths to make sure the event is picture perfect. The family doesn’t notice how the special pickle fork from Aunt Foth has been polished or which set of Granny’s china is used on the table. They eat, wash the dishes and mark-off the survival of another family affair.

However, my sister-in-law and I both appreciate one another’s attention to detail and fuss over each other’s food, décor and choice of music.  If the truth were told, we are each other’s only audience. The rest of the family would be fine to order a pizza or stay at home and read a book.

This year is my turn to host Thanksgiving, and if you’ve been following Value wIT, you know how chaotic life has been of late. I would never be weak enough to ask for help, assign side dishes or desserts, or God forbid, renege on hosting. If you have a specialty and insist on bringing something, then fine, but it’s my menu and my show.  Just come and have a nice time.

Here’s my dirty little secret:  I’ve ordered some food from the Soup Peddler. As I have mentioned before, David Ansel is one fine chef, and there is zero doubt that the food will be anything less than wonderful.  The food is being delivered on Wednesday, and the plan was to surreptitiously transfer it into my pots and pans and warm it before spooning it on to my heirloom china. 

The family will eat the spread without a word except my sister-in-law will rave,

“Oh, Bitsy, this butternut squash soup is divine.  Ah, I can’t get over how delicious this corn pone pudding is. Did you say this is your grandmother’s recipe?  Seriously, the oyster artichoke casserole is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

Upon hearing these compliments on SoupPeddler’s tasty vittles, I will be gay with the buzz of champagne and humbly smile and say,

“Thank you. I’m so glad you’re enjoying it.”

PROBLEMO!

My mother will be at the table. She will know there was no stirring and simmering. AND, person that she is, she will say,

“Bitsy always has the best caterers.  Such original food. Her grandmother would roll over in her grave if she knew we weren’t have stuffing.”

I might venture a kick under the table toward her skinny, bony leg. Nevertheless, she will continue on with

“Bitsy is just so busy these days. I don’t how she gets it all done. There is just no way she had time to cook this dinner.  She had to order out.”

My mother stating this fact will be a direct missile aimed at my holiday-themed apron. Moreover, it will be a letdown for my sister-in-law. The magic of the holiday will be exploded.  It’s like telling a child that there is no Santa. Why ruin it?

The poor SIL will be wearing a new perfect outfit. She will have saved enough calories to eat hearty portions of all the goodies. She will be trying her hardest to think we are a normal, healthy family. Once my mother spills the beans that I have not used my manicured hands to cook the perfect coconut crème pie, my SIL’s day will be ruined -all so that my mother can exercise her passive-aggressive talents.

I do have a plan to combat this potential disaster.  The delivery is scheduled at a time my mother won’t see it.  Upon delivery I will quickly put the food into my containers.  On Thanksgiving morning I will transfer the food into my pots and act like I cooked it while my mother was asleep.  My husband is cooking sweet potatoes and will create a disaster in the kitchen so it will look like I cooked.  I’m calling the turkey “deconstructed” and saying that I was experimenting with cooking it the day before to avoid carving and trashing the kitchen.  At the end of lunch, assuming that my mother hasn’t spilled the beans, I might say something to the effect of “Hmmm. Not sure I would cook the turkey in advance next time. Not having the turkey carcass to deal with is great, but I sure love the smell of a big turkey cookin’!”

How do you think this will turn out?

Comments

[Tina]

I got my butternut squash soup and my oyster artichoke casserole yesterday afternoon. MMmmm.
If your mom talks about your not cooking maybe you could bring up the boil on her butt that she just got lanced.
T

[Shelly]

I think you should hide in the closet until they all go home! With the champagne! You deserve it!

[cal gal]

OK, this is so insightful and right on! Hilarious! I say from a safe distance...