King of Excess

My mother's penchant for making more food than necessary has long been family lore.  We all have memories of her walking behind all of us at the dinner table, asking if we wanted more mashed potatoes, and before we could answer, having a large heap plopped on our plate.

She was, after all, a child of the depression, she said to explain her tendencies to feed us more than we could possibly eat.  Her father was also a restaurant owner, a "supper club" in Wisconsin that was quite popular in its day, so she grew up knowing how to cook well, albeit in large portions.

This trait of excess was passed on to her children, at least to her youngest two, myself included. 

For the first time in 15 or 20 years, I went home to North Dakota for Thanksgiving.  I volunteered to make the meal that day for 14 people.  When making the shopping list, I put down 5 pounds of potatoes, and truly thought that I would be laughed at for making so much.  But my brother informed me that they would make the potatoes, yams, and had already bought a turkey and a ham.

The rule of thumb when buying a turkey is 1 pound per person.  Being a McCartney, I would have bought an 18-20 pounder "just in case".  But if a ham was also in the mix, I would have stuck with a 14 pound bird and still thought it excessive.

But apparently the McCartney Excess curse rained heaviest on the youngest member of the family, my brother.  His wife got some of it too, because they proudly told me that they had bought a 25 pound turkey, and were planning on cooking 20 pounds of potatoes.  I gasped, and asked if they had a roaster big enough? 

"Don't worry", my brother said, "we'll figure it out".

I prepped the turkey the night before by rubbing herb-infused butter under the skin, and stuffing it's cavity with onions, garlic, and lots of thyme.  My brother was in charge of getting it into the oven early the next morning, since dinner was at his house.

When I arrived mid-morning Thanksgiving day to start the prep for the rest of the meal, I saw the monster turkey in a Nesco roaster, probably the biggest one they make, but still too small for the bird.  The cover of the roaster was at least 4 inches off of the base, and tin foil had been used to seal the gaps.  It cooked just fine, although the breast wasn't evenly browned.  I rather enjoyed myself teasing my brother about it.

We ate about half of the 20 pounds of potatoes.  The rest are probably still in the fridge for leftovers.  The sweet potatoes were divine, with chunks of brown sugar swimming in the mix.  We had homemade sausage and mushroom stuffing, fresh asparagus, turkey, ham, sweet potatoes, cinnamon apple cranberry sauce, homemade gravy plus lots of appetizers including shrimp, but my brother panicked at the end, thinking there wasn't enough, so he steamed a bag of corn to add to the buffet.

I refuse to be laughed at for my excess any longer.  Long live King McCartney - the proud receipient of my mother's legacy.