|here she is at 5|
Every year I do the same turkey recipe. Wolfgang Puck's Brine Roasted Turkey. It turns out the perfect turkey, EVERY time. And after eleven years of not so good turkeys, it is a real treat.
My little one was perfect for helping me because her little hands could easily fit between the skin and the tender breast meat. She could shove that sage butter under that skin like nobody's business. Then I would drizzle the olive oil on top and she would massage the John, Tom, or Harold (yes, we have to name them first), like he had booked an hour at Massage Envy. She says 'It's my favorite part'. But she says every part is her favorite part ;)
Just now we were in the kitchen together, I was chopping the garlic and she had just started chopping the sage for the butter when the room instantly smelled like Thanksgiving and Christmas all rolled in to one. I looked over my shoulder at her and there she was, as tall as I, using the big-girl knife, and smelling like a holiday. The past eight Thanksgiving mornings flashed before my eyes and I burned another memory right into my spirit. The special place where you keep all the very best ones. And I am so thankful.
She's gone back to bed for now. She will help me again in a few hours with the Best Damn Dressing ITW, and the potatoes, green beans, sweet potato casserole, and everything else. And everyone else will be up and music will be playing and we will be laughing and I will stress a little and they will make me laugh again and it will be a great day. But there is something special, almost sacred, about preparing the turkey with my youngest and getting it in the oven in the quiet of the morning.
I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving; and remember that giving thanks can be done every day, with or without a Harold!
Peace and love,