The making of cranberry sauce went off without a hitch except for the contrary faces made by txrad at my finished product. You see, he's not much of a berry guy whereas I worship all berries. He likes the flavor of them but doesn't care much for the texture, especially if they have seeds like blackberries. But he'll eat some cranberry sauce tonight if I have to shove it in his mouth.
I started with this orange juice and brown Turbinado sugar concoction with some fresh grated ginger. This recipe is one posted by Minstrel Boy back in 2006 with an update today at Group News Blog in which I noticed he was using brown sugar, so I decided to give it a go. (Of course I fucked up and didn't use a wooden spoon as per instructions but... I'm a Taurus.)
Once that came to a slight boil I tossed in the bag of cranberries. In a few minutes you start to hear them squeaking and popping. I stirred frequently and they soon turn into delectable glop.
I added in the 1/2 cup of pecans which I had toasted a bit earlier, stirred, and then it was ready to pop in the fridge.
Beautiful and DELICIOUS!
Then came the pie dough episode. I did everything right and I'm sure my pie crust will be the best I've ever made. The only minor malfunction was that I used a recipe for a deep-dish pie and we have a regular pie dish. I poured the pumpkin mixture into the pie dish -- every last precious drop. I asked txrad to hold open the oven door while I moved the pie into the oven. After about two steps the pie filling began to roll back and forth and I heard a few splatters on the floor near my feet. So I instructed him to close the door and I retreated back to the counter to reassess the situation.
I got tons of grief over this along with insinuations that I was an imbecile. I gathered my nerves and made a second attempt which was successful without even one small spill. Then I began cleaning up during which time another round of squabbling ensued.
I had rolled out the pie dough on a marble slab after being told not to use the cutting board due to the grease in the butter. There was a small ball of dough leftover which I was using to wipe up excess flour. Oh, this did not meet the approval of my Virgo mate.
"You're smearing fat around," he proclaimed.
I said, "I'm using the dough to mop up flour."
"But your smearing fat all over the slab," he continued.
Then I mashed the dough between the palms of my hands to lock in the flour before tossing it outside for whatever varmint might want to eat it.
txrad was horrified. "Now both your hands are greasy! Let me get open the door. I don't want grease on everything."
"I'm about to pop you over the head with this pie dough ball," I retorted.
Then I started wiping off the marble slab with a sponge and txrad blurted out, "you need to use soap!!"
I was fighting the urge to say "pack your shit and get out!"
I should know better than to allow him anywhere near the kitchen when I'm doing any cooking. He can be highly critical when we go to a restaurant as he observes every motion of the staff and especially if he has a view of the kitchen area. I suppose I could have tied him up to the bed while I was doing all my feastly Thanksgiving duties.
All of this caused me to have a revelation late this afternoon. Gay couples cannot be fit for legal marriage because no straight couples EVER have such an episode in the kitchen. Heterosexual couples function in the kitchen as one -- we all know that is a fact.
I'm going to start calling him "collardhead."
Thankfully, my kitchen chores are done except for boiling the collards. txrad is in control of the rest of the meal.
If I hadn't already seen Home For The Holidays again just a few weeks ago, I'd be in the mood to watch it tonight.