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…which is exactly what this particular slacking-no-posts-in-nine-months underachieving blog really needs.
In those nine months, I have since acquired a new, more spacious abode, 2 kittens and my dining chair collection has since tripled. Neil’s away on tour, so it was nigh on time to call round the girls and completely trash the kitchen. Yesterday’s occasion was our annual band Thanksgiving dinner, held on a Sunday due to the lack of Thanksgiving in the UK coupled with a lack of employers who think stuffing your face is a valid reason to call off work. Three of the five band members are American and the two non-American members like to eat, so it makes for a good party. This year we picked up a couple more expats, in the form of Jess’s uncle Craig and college friend Ian, who came bearing a dish of still-warm corn bread. You can come again, Ian.
Cooking for 8 was a surprisingly stress-free affair, or it would have been if the people who built this flat hadn’t been similarly underachieving when it came time to install the kitchen. Actual amount of food produced was closer to the “Dinner for 14″ mark. So if we pretend that I hadn’t actually turned into my grandmother (for whom two pans of lasagna constituted a reasonable T’giving side dish), and that my cats weren’t howling mournfully and trying to commit suicide by jumping under my feet at every available opportunity because they couldn’t bear life without turkey in their stomachs for One. More. Second., then it was a totally stress-free affair.
On the menu:
