Thanksgiving

To say I love Thanksgiving would be an understatement. To say I'm obsessive about Thanksgiving would also be a bit of an understatement. To say I'm a control freak about Thanksgiving would be...well, you get the idea.

The holiday has always played a central role in my life: I was born on Thanksgiving day. As a kid, I thought it was awesome that my birthday was always on/around the holiday, and it didn't hurt that I got to gorge myself on turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and birthday pumpkin pie (who needs cake?).

That's not to say that all of my Thanksgivings were great.

There was the year we had dinner with my mom's friend, who had disliked me since I was a child and made passive-aggressive remarks to and about me the whole night.

There was the time that my mom and I had dinner with some friends of hers and their college-age daughter. We would later find out that the couple was getting a divorce, which explained why (with the exception of a few pleasantries exchanged between the daughter and us) no one spoke during the entire meal. They also sent us away without leftovers.

There was the time, when I was about 8, that my parents were both working around the clock on different projects: my mom on her Master's dissertation, and my dad on a series of articles that would later win him a Pulitzer.

That year, Thanksgiving was just another day at the office. I spent the afternoon playing with my new birthday presents and the Billy Joel album I had received a day or two before. As the sun started to set, I began to wonder when we would eat and why no one was in the kitchen cooking.

When I inquired, it became obvious that my parents had either lost track of time or forgot it was Thanksgiving all together. By then, of course, it was too late to make a turkey (if we even had one), and all the restaurants were either closed or booked.

We had pancakes.

These experiences (especially the pancake dinner) are what drove me toward my current obsession. When I grew up and moved out on my own, I decided to reclaim the holiday. If I were in charge, I'd know it would be right. I could make sure I had all my favorite foods, done correctly. (Stuffing with sausage? No.) I could make sure everyone went home with leftovers. I would ensure there would be no pancakes.

So for the past 10 years or so, I have compiled recipes that I file in my Thanksgiving binder, which represents, by far, the height of my organizational skills. Around September I start planning recipes and decorations. By the beginning of November I start working on my schedule for Thanksgiving Week. I spend two or three days cooking a meal that lasts 40 minutes. And then, the day after Thanksgiving, I vow that I'm taking the next year off, although I never do.

Until now?

It looked like this year would end my streak. We were going to be living in the trailer by now, and it would be hard to cook a feast for a dozen people, even if they wanted to make the long drive out to the middle of nowhere.

We considered taking Homer to the beach, but he's too big. So then we decided to go to Solvang, just us and the kids. We'd make a small turkey breast and some sides.

But then Homer had his hitch issues, and we've been going back and forth about everything, and now it's probably too late to make reservations, plus I'm having minor panic attacks about Thanksgiving not being "right."

My dad offered to host at his house, but his oven is too small to make a proper turkey. He offered to take us to a restaurant, but that feels sacrilegious.

So, I made the only logical choice: I'll host and cook as usual.

I'll need to restock my kitchen supplies, of course. I have no pie plates, rolling pin, or casserole dishes. I'm not sure I have a roasting pan. But I will overcome. Nothing will come between me and a perfect Thanksgiving feast.

Food

We're taking it easy at the hotel today, since the next few days will likely be pretty hectic as we take possession of the fifth wheel and hopefully start to head back home. I figured I'd use this time to post about some of the food we've had on this leg of the journey.

The photo up top is a picture of chips and salsa from my beloved Manuel's. We did wind up going there our first night in Phoenix, and I'm sad to report that it wasn't a great experience.

See, Manuel's food is usually good--really good--but it's their chips and salsa that are unbelievable. The chips are warm, light, sweet...wonderful. Totally addictive. This time, though, the chips were blah: hard, bland, indistinct. I still ate a ton of them because I needed a way to get the still-excellent salsa into my mouth and drinking it directly from the bowl would have been uncouth.

Anna had fun smashing the chips, though, so I guess that's something.



The rest of the food was also mediocre. Steve's chimichanga was soggy, and my Pollo Especial (shredded chicken stuffed in a flour tortilla, then fried and topped with a cream cheese-chile sauce) was lacking in cream cheese-chile sauce.

Maybe it was an off night. Maybe it was that particular location. In any case, I'm not writing off Manuel's completely. It was too good for too long to let one bad experience ruin it for me. Plus I still have $60 left on my gift card.

Our next noteworthy meal was at a steakhouse in Kerrville, Texas. I think it was called the Cowboy Steakhouse. We have gone back to In-N-Out a few times since my virgin burger, but besides that haven't had any red meat. But we figured, when in Texas, do as the Texans do.

It was time for a steak.

Steve had his tastebuds set on a ribeye. I had no idea what I wanted. Even when I used to eat beef I really didn't eat steak. I explained my situation to the waitress and left it up to her. She said filet mignon would be best for my "sensitive palate." Ok, then.

I have to say...it was amazing. So. Good.

It was also the first time in three attempts that I found a restaurant that served fresh green beans that were still green and slightly crispy.

Best of all, our waitress was also the restaurant's baker, and she was having a chocolate-pie-tasting. She had prepared six different recipes and was trying to determine which pie to put on the menu.

I subscribe to the theory that all pies should be fruit-based, but I also subscribe to the theory that one should never pass up a free dessert.

Steve and I have extremely different tastes in dessert (for example, he believes that no pies should be fruit-based), yet amazingly we both chose Pie #2 as our favorite.

Another gem we discovered was a Mexican place in Livingston, Texas. The name escapes me, but I did take a business card for when we're back that way.

The first thing that made me love the place was the warm queso they served with the chips and salsa. Maybe that's typical here, but it was a first for me. In it, Elias met a cheese product he didn't like (because it actually had flavor), but Anna liked it so much she resorted to dipping her whole hand into the bowl. Ah, to be young again.

Our food was great, too. Steve had chicken tacos al carbon--simple yet delicious with a fresh, tasty guacamole. I had something called the No-Name Enchiladas: fajita chicken stuffed inside mild chile peppers, then wrapped in corn tortillas and covered with enchilada sauce.

We've had a few duds, too. There was the place with the Sponge-Bob-clad employees and dry, bland chicken. There was a Thai place that came highly rated on Yelp, yet wasn't very good at all.

To be honest, we've mostly been eating at chain places (and a lot more fast food than I'd like) because that's what tends to be the most readily available. We're trying to eat at small local places as much as we can, though, and so far the results have been surprisingly good.

Chips, Salsa, Water!

For many years, some friends and I would make an annual pilgrimage to Phoenix each spring (and sometimes in the fall and summer, too). The trips were officially about baseball, but unofficially they were about Manuel's, the best Mexican restaurant ever.

Manuel's was always our first stop when we got in, and our last stop before heading out. We ate there nearly every day of our vacation, and sometimes twice a day.

Their chips and salsa are ridiculously good. (The water is just regular water, but the refill people wore shirts that said "Chips, Salsa, Water" on them, hence the title of this post.)

When we started planning our trip to Texas/Ohio, I knew we had to go through Phoenix. I haven't been there in about four years, and that's too long to go without Manuel's. (Plus I need to stop in and buy a car seat from a friend there, and also see her brand new baby. Hi, Shrimp!)

So I was thrilled yesterday when I saw that Manuel's is selling gift cards for half-off through their website. I immediately ordered a $100 card for $50. 

There's no way we'll use that all on our upcoming trip. We'll be in Phoenix for a max of 24 hours, and it's not an expensive place (plus kids eat for $1.99 through August!). But I'm supposed to be back in Phoenix for a conference in March, so I can use it then, too. And if there's still some left over? Well, I guess we'll just have to go back.

My mouth is watering...

That's what a hamburger's all about

During the summer between my freshman and sophomore years of high school I stopped eating red meat.

It was for no other reason than "just because," really. My dad had moved to California a couple years prior and at some point had given up red meat because everyone in California doesn't eat something, and I think he wanted to test his will power. So that summer I decided I would, too.

I learned that being a "poultritarian" is rather nice. It allows for nearly all the smugness of being a vegetarian, but with a lot more menu options. Plus, no worries about Mad Cow disease!

In the first few months I had some cravings--and even some relapses--but I quickly realized I could live without red meat. Soon the cravings became rare (ha!), and the ones I did have usually involved unexpected and rather disgusting things like Arby's roast beef sandwiches or Taco Bell. But I never gave in, and never really missed it.

Today, though, after not having eaten red meat for 17 years, I had a hamburger.

Why? Well, it wasn't to satisfy a craving as much as a curiosity.

You see, I had never had an In-N-Out Burger. To most Southern Californians--even some vegetarians I know--that would be considered blasphemy. In-N-Out has a cult following among...well, just about everyone. When people leave the west, In-N-Out is their first stop as soon as they're back within range. It's that kind of place.

When we started preparing for this journey of ours, I began to wonder what I was missing out on. How could I leave California without ever having tasted one of the state's unofficial-official foods?

Plus I realized that eating red meat again would make sense if we're going to experience the culinary treasures of different regions. What if I want a buffalo burger in Wyoming? I mean, I can't imagine that I would want a buffalo burger in Wyoming, but shouldn't I leave the option open?

I also know from past road trips that not all parts of the country are hospitable to non-beef-eaters. Once at a diner in Shamrock, Texas, I ordered the only "safe" option on the menu: cheese enchiladas. They came smothered in meat sauce.

So, it made sense to start eating beef again, and if I was going to do it, it would start at In-N-Out. Steve and I had talked about going for several weeks and finally decided to today. (Steve hadn't eaten red meat since we started seriously dating, so this was a big step for him, too.)

Before we got there I perused In-N-Out's "secret menu" online. I didn't want to look like a novice, after all. I ordered a cheeseburger with grilled onions and pickles (plus the standard toppings of lettuce, tomato, and "sauce"), and an order of fries, cooked "light-well" (more fried than normal, but not completely incinerated).

I half-expected that I'd realize how tasty beef is and devour the whole thing in one bite. I half-expected I'd throw up. Neither happened.

The burger was good. Very good, actually, especially for fast-food. Not "oh-my god-I-can't-believe-I've-gone-17-years-without-eating-this" good, but "I-see-the-appeal-and-will-likely-partake-again-someday" good.

One chapter in my life closes, and a new, higher-cholesterol one begins. I don't imagine that beef will become a regular staple of my diet, but when a craving strikes, I will sate it. When a regional dish beckons, I will answer the call.

Rocky Mountain Oysters, though, are definitely out.