Dance little turkey, dance

The parents decided that this Thanksgiving they would grace us with their presence. Now that both of their lovely daughters are in the Golden State, the parents are willing to brave the airport and the pleasant SoCal weather.

While I have been calling sister’s couch home for only a few months, this would be the first time since sister moved here three years ago Papa Peach would make a trip out. Mama came to see her once. My parents rarely travel and opt for sending the prodigal daughter a plan ticket to the Midwest.

I of course, got very excited about the whole thing and started planning my first thanksgiving dinner. Sister broke out into a cold sweat.

Sister and I had very different approaches on how the Thanksgiving dinner would play out.

I wanted a traditional meal and the chance to see if I could produce an edible turkey without burning the house down. Sister wanted a fancy dining experience for a no muss, no fuss chance for her new man to meet our parents.

This conflict did not play-out nicely. We should have televised the brawl on pay-per-view as we shouted at each other over how to have the perfect, stress-free meal. Mike Tyson played a cleaner match.

In the end we both came to our senses, meaning years of training as the little sister made me apologize for yelling, but stubborn enough to get my way. Sister vowed to have nothing to do with the meal, except eat it and not be happy about the whole mess.

Victory is mine.

I turned into a regular Martha extraordinaire. Despite not having all the correct baking tools and no dining table to eat upon, we were going to have the best damn Thanksgiving meal I could muster and everyone better love it. Plus, mama said she would help me not fuck it up.

I fought through the crowds at Trader Joe’s to get the 14-lb. antibiotic free, vegetarian fed, free-range turkey of my dreams. They only had the kosher ones left, but I figured it could only be a bonus. To get out of the madness, I threw a few elbows and escaped with the turkey and my life.

I do want to say that even though I did the detox and claimed in the post previous to cut down on my meat consumption, in my book Thanksgiving doesn’t count. Especially, when I get to cook for my family that traveled so many miles just to see their daughters.

Plus, it’s kosher. That's got to count for something.

Warning: do not try to go out for one drink the night before Thanksgiving, even though it is the biggest bar night of the year, when there is a turkey brining-away in the fridge.

One drink turned into several and before I knew it I was jabbering away about my delicious dinner, while trying to beat some ass playing a video trivia game with fellow booze-hounds.

I did make it back to dump the brine after the allotted 6 to 8 hours. The turkey marinated in sea salt, molasses and cool water with crushed anise and cinnamon sticks for flavor.

This is after I let mama clean out the gizzards and I made its little body dance around for a while. Best. vegetarian. ever.

The best part about thanksgiving is not only preparing a delicious bird carcass for your family, but making after-thanksgiving sandwiches for weeks to come.

Each year I try to perfect the combination of white meat, cheddar cheese, cranberry sauce, toasted bread and mixed greens. This year I will incorporate cornbread stuffing as I recently became a fan.

I get weeks of turkey dinner leftovers to feast upon. Especially since, I spent all my grocery money on this free-range, loving life turkey. Lucky me.

The turkey turned out beautiful by the way. We did smoke-out the house and send the family running into the street for a bit of time. What’s a family gathering without a bit of excitement?

So what, if the rolls tasted a bit like smoke. Some people aim for that flame-kissed flavor.

I think it was gross negligence on the LAFD’s part who did nothing as smoke billowed out of the apartment. With a fire station just across the street, who are we to depend on for assistance in a real disaster?

Oh no, here come the meat sweats again.

Next year, I'll let someone else do the cooking. I'll bring the tofurkey.

Fraser, thank you for sneaking me a pumpkin treat when no one was looking. Sorry for causing that look of fear in your eyes.

After celebrating my birthday for two weeks, going to Vegas and eating more meat over the course of two days than this Veggie has eaten in months, I decided to go on a fast. This detox involves a regimen of lemons, cayenne pepper and molasses mixed in liter of water.

You drink this and only this for as long as you can survive it. I aimed for seven days.

Focusing on the positive aspects of removing toxins in my body, shedding any excess pounds, sleeping better and restarting a healthy eating plan at ground zero, kept me motivated for about three days. Then reality set in.

I work at the french bakery and cafe. My job entails making coffee and perfecting each drink to Intelligensia standards. Throughout the shift I must adjust the espresso grind and taste the shots pulled to get the optimal flavor. This is serious coffee.

This is not possible on a detox. A few sips of espresso make my hands shake and my heart beat against my ribcage like a trapped rabbit. Not to mention, the edge I already have from an addiction to caffeine that I am trying to kick.

Standing in a sea of pastel macaroons, hazelnut cream puffs and a variety of fruit muffins and croissants that melt in your mouth, I realized that I had made a grave mistake. Dear lord, it's like inviting a sex fiend into a brothel.


The jumbo cupcake people, this is what I'm dealing with. This is not the first time we have met cupcake, now you are now my foe.

It's not that I actually felt hungry in the sense of an empty stomach. I just wanted to consume every pastry in a five block radius. All I could think about was food while standing among temptation in every flavor.

We also get a free meal with every shift. I had to sit and pretend like I was making important memos with my phone for a half hour.

By day four, I had to resist the strong impulse to punch everyone near me in the face, especially children. My eye starting twitching uncontrollably and I was ready to burst into tears at any given moment. Don't worry this is a good sign that I'm making progress.

This detox would be no problem if I worked at an office where all I had to do was resist visiting food sites on the computer and empty the mini-fridge in my cubicle. Instead, my boss decided to break into the latest pastry creations for the holiday season to share with all of the employees. I tried to ignore the bead of sweat forming on the small of my back as my co-workers each grabbed for a slice of a pumpkin ganache tart.


"Oh my God, this is orgasmic." Commence the yummy noises.

Thoughts of grabbing the nearest pen and gouging out someone's eye out, made me realize that maybe this is not the right time in my life for this. Best excuse myself. I sucked down a cigarette in the back alley like a convict in a prison yard.

Five days seems like a legit time to flush out some of the deep friend animal carcass I enjoyed so damn much. Instead of food deprivation, I am sticking to a healthy eating plan to keep my skin clear and my thoughts less vicious. I even will allow a minimal amount of carbs to keep me sane.

"Oh! Glad to see you eating croissants again," said a co-worker yesterday. She was in the process of moving all the ballpoint pens from away my station.

Glad to be back.