Hey whoa Thanksgiving is here! This means you will have to provide some victuals for some people, or else they will finally have the excuse for disowning/defriending/excommunicating you that they have always secretly wanted. Below you'll find all the Thanksgiving-relevant Foodspin action you'll need in order to preserve your seat at the Auxiliary Thanksgiving Annex Table in the basement. Good luck, and good eating!
"We're going to walk through making three of 'em—green-bean casserole, candied yams, and cranberry sauce—and if it turns out that all three of these are already spoken for in your family, well, somebody's gotta bring napkins, and that person can be run off the road and over a cliff on their way to the gathering and coldly usurped in the hearts and minds of all their loved ones."
"Despite having emailed the tasting instructions ('There are 3 loaves of pumpkin beer bread and one control loaf made with Budweiser. Each pan is marked. It would be great if you and some of the other guys could each try some of the control and then as much of any or all of the other three as you'd like'), AND leaving a hand-written note reiterating those same instructions in the bag with the bread, they'd managed to eat the entire control loaf ... but hadn't touched the loaves made with the pumpkin beer."
"The very most fun part of making macaroni and cheese is when you skip merrily through the cheese section of your supermarket and grab just a bunch of different cheeses that catch your eye: Pecorino and cheddar and Velveeta? Yes! Colby jack and Garrotxa and Port Salut? Fuck yeah! Twelve jars of Old El Paso Queso Dip? My legal counsel has advised me not to appear to endorse this course of action."
"The first thing to do is clear up any misconceptions that the reason to make mashed cauliflower, and not mashed potatoes, is that mashed cauliflower is the more calorically or nutritionally upstanding choice. If that is what you are thinking, stop thinking that, because that is stupid. You're stupid."
"You are of course free to use the apple variety of your choice here, unless the apple variety of your choice is the Red Delicious, in which case you are free to stick your tongue out as far as it will go and slap the fucking daylights out of it for being a dipshit."
"So the bad news is, yeah, when Aunt Hortense asked you to bring the potatoes, she was basically calling you a nigh-useless human dumpster fire who can't be trusted to crank open a can of cranberry jelly without sawing both your arms off and staggering over a cliff."
"I want you to sit down for this, because a revelation like the one I'm about to share might cause you to collapse from shock and I would hate to bear the blame for your bruised tailbone: In order to make bread pudding, you'll need bread."
"Conduct your sad, desperate, probably drunk kitchen raid mindful of the idea that if you have A) fowl, B) rich, starchy mush, and C) vaguely credible gravy, you can have a Thanksgiving meal that you could almost, almost describe to a coworker without causing him or her to make a sad face and put a comforting hand on your shoulder."
"Folly! Folly and self-deception! Even the nosepickingest Thanksgiving dunce knows good and goddamned well that by the time he's worked his way through a heaped plate of potatoes and stuffing and biscuits and green-bean casserole, he's not going to be hungry enough to find Brussels sprouts appetizing anymore and will skip over them altogether on his way to a wedge of pumpkin pie somehow exceeding 360 degrees, and then on the way home later he is going to think, 'Aw, man, I never had any of Bernice's Brussels sprouts,' as he dozes off with his foot on the accelerator and pinwheels his car into a gorge."
"Sangiovese—specifically Chianti, a mostly Sangiovese blend—is embraced by Italians as a catch-all wine pairing, and they seem to be pretty on the ball, at least so long as you discount World Wars I and II, Silvio Berlusconi, Nero, the grotesquely hirsute, paunchy, Speedo-clad bald man who parks himself next to you at every beach on earth, and The Godfather: Part III."
"I used to clean bar bathrooms, and an overwhelming majority of the bottles left in the john at the end of the night were Bud Light. Bud Light dudes are afraid of leaving their beer unattended, as if they have reason to worry about the fate of unattended beers. I suppose there's something apt about these beers ending the night on top of a urinal. It's like a little story about the nitrogen cycle."
"I don't know most of you, but I'm going to make the stupid assumption that you are honorable men and women with discerning palates, in which case your normal drink is probably bourbon. And since rent's due four days after Thanksgiving and you haven't even bought your turkey Lunchable yet, you're probably dealing with a tight budget. No problem. I've ranked cheap bourbon."
"Some people like to pile a portion of each of the various delicious Thanksgiving victuals between two pieces of bread, in what invariably turns into a saggy, dissolving, unmanageable wreck, renouncing any rightful claim to the 'sandwich' title within moments of its birth. Other folks prefer to stick to the holiday's saner-seeming sandwich fillings like sliced turkey and cranberry relish and salad, think there's something weird and redundant and brazenly gluttonous about putting stuffing (which is essentially pre-chewed bread) between two slices of bread, and are vampires."
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