White Dog and the rest of the White Dog Army spent the afternoon deeply inhaling the aromas of a turkey roasting. Since everyone was home, this was the day we prepared a traditional Thanksgiving feast. "THIS is the way the house should smell ALL of the time," White Dog swooned. "Only if there was a turkey waiting at the end of every day," practical Puff corrected. "The smell with no taste would be torture!"
That was not even a remote possibility. The WDA, extended version, already was anticipating the particulars to tonight's dinner: a HUGE turkey (the curse of waiting until the night before a holiday to purchase) filled with apples and celery then basted in apple cider vinegar so the wonderfully moist meat had a subtle taste of fruit; sour cream and cheese mashed potatoes; my grandmother's recipe for sage and sausage bread stuffing, crispy on the top and edges, puffy and moist inside; fresh cranberries. This was not a meal for weight watchers and Jupiter was given a reprieve from her diet in order to enjoy the brussel sprouts sauteed with bacon and sprinkled with caramelized onions (no onions for the pups, of course). Even the non-veggie eaters in the house set aside their dislike to enjoy green beans steamed then sauteed in butter with pears and walnuts. Miss Zsofia enjoyed the beans raw as I was snapping them ALMOST as much as the buttery cooked version.
It was everything that the smells promised and then some. Each of the White Ones, of all shades, took a moment to stop with noses centimeters from the food in their bowl to enjoy the sensory delight...and then plunged into the meal with vigor and enthusiasm. Then, some sadness was expressed that there would be no second helpings, until...
Steve mentioned that we had yet to have homemade pumpkin pie with freshly whipped cream.
"Can we be grateful two days in a row for what a great life we have?" Zsofia asked wide-eyed at her first Thanksgiving experiences. "Don't be silly, baby girl," WD told her. "You can be grateful EVERY day!"
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