Thankful for butter!

In an attempt to guarantee Val keeps all her fingers intact this year, I invited the Jersey Pinedas to Thanksgiving in Queens where I spent hours - no, days - slaving in my tiny, unventilated kitchen preparing a lavish feast to rival the debaucherous ways of the ancient Romans and Greeks.  Not.  I booked a reservation at Bar Americain and made Bobby Flay my Thanksgiving bitch.  Yes, this may be a Pineda first, Thanksgiving dinner in a - gasp! - restaurant.  Well, all I can say is why haven’t we done this sooner?  I mean, it honestly costs about the same.  Except unlike your home, a wait staff is at your beck and call, you don’t have to wash dishes, and the food eventually stops coming so you don’t unconsciously eat until you fall into a food coma.

My Bobby Flay Thanksgiving started with a delightful citrus rum drink with a brown sugar rim.  I shouldn’t continue without warning you many innocent sticks of butter gave their lives up for my holiday enjoyment.  First course was a butter-licious bowl of shrimp and grits with bacon followed by a Flintstone-sized slab of prime rib topped with, you guessed it, more melted butter.  Oh, the humanity!  Dessert was a yummy profiterole swimming in a delectable smoky-sweet caramel brittle sauce.  Of course, we all made sure to order different items and passed the plates around.  So I also got a bit of Juan’s apple glazed pork chops and Val’s heavenly lamb. 

Since no holiday can go by without someone family member incurring an injury, Juan was gracious enough to take one for the team.  He arrived at my apartment with a swollen foot and had to hobble around the city all day.  Since the weather sucked (cold and rainy), we just made a quick, after-dinner stop at the Bryant Park holiday bazaar to do some window shopping and watch the ice skaters careen uncontrollably around the rain-slicked temporary rink.  There’s nothing like a good dose of schadenfreude to brighten up a dreary holiday evening.

We ended the evening in our PJ’s watching a heartwarming film to get us into the holiday spirit, Predators.  Yes, the loving tale of an alien race that takes pleasure in hunting and killing humans for sport.  It really gives you the warm fuzzies.  Strangely, something about murder and death made Val think of Joey’s cats and how she had forgotten to feed them.  The thought of starving felines so overwhelmed Val that they decided to cut their stay short.  Tired and stomachs full of red meat, they took off late last night and headed straight to Joey's to give the cats their Thanksgiving meal.   

Today I am at my empty office waiting for the day to end.  Luckily, we’re off at two so I’ll have the rest of the day to nap and eat.  I’m continuing my Thanksgiving gluttony this afternoon with a tray of homemade sausage stuffing and apple crisp that I had prepared for Juan, Val and I to nosh on throughout the night.  Oh well, more for me I guess.  Oh, and I almost forgot about that pitcher of sangria I’ve had fermenting in the fridge for the last three days.  I guess I’ll be full and drunk by about four this afternoon (and laying with my head in the toilet by around eight).  Don’t try calling.  I won’t answer.

Happy Holidays!