Fangsgiving for Farging Iceholes

Happy Fangsgiving! I hope your day is going well. I am up to something! That something is bacon-infused bourbon for old fashioneds.

So far I have poured bacon grease into the bourbon, which I poured into a big pitcher first. Then I put it in the fridge overnight, because the pitcher did not fit in the freezer. This was a mistake. The grease did not congeal enough, really. I strained the grease out and bumped the bourbon in the microwave so the fat would remelt, since it was all in separate little globs. I am hoping it makes one big lump this time around. I may have to pick up some cheesecloth when I go out to get oysters.

I am not making Fangsgiving dinner this year, for the first time in eons. I will tell you why, straight up. P. and I had a row last week in which he told me that he was “not really into Thanksgiving and all the trimmings.” This is like telling a devout Catholic that “that Pope guy is okay, I guess.”

It wasn’t really spite that made me pull the plug, honestly. It was more an overwhelming since of “meh.” Why bother? I said this aloud. My feelings were hurt that my dinners that I work three days on with scratch broth and stuffing and the brining…that they were so take-or-leave. FNIF. ~dramatic violins~

“I will just make whatever then, and treat it like any other day,” I said. I had a notion of getting half a turkey breast and just slapping a couple of things together like a normal weeknight.

“I have always thought we should make something besides turkey,” P. declared.

“If it is not a turkey meal, then it is not really like Thanksgiving,” I said. “It is another fancy meal that you can have any day of the year.”

“Oh, well, if you are not going to cook, I will,” P. declared. And it was on like Donkey Kong.

“I think I will make a brisket,” he announced a couple of days after the Incident. I don’t even know what animal that comes from.

“Okay,” I said, resignedly, and with some attempt at actually being supportive. I tried not to think of gravy and cranberry and stuffing. I tried not to think about how much I enjoy planning menus and CHOPPING and getting the timing just right.

A couple of days after that, and it was a different story again.

“I’ve been thinking,” P. said. “It is just not Thanksgiving without a traditional meal.”

“Oh,” I said. “What a completely original thought that I have never heard come out of anyone’s mouth, especially not mine four days ago.”

“Yeaaah. So I am making a turkey.”

And he is. I am sitting on my ass. The world’s gone mad, I tells you.

Also, Halloween pics are finally up, if you’re interested. And Egg and I are podcasting tonight, if you have a last-minute question.

9 thoughts on “Fangsgiving for Farging Iceholes

  1. Be STILL my heart, Asshole – is that yOoU????
    i clicked on an old SJ comment and here i came!

    hello again, ho!

    i missed ya and now must catch up!

  2. Absolutely sit on the couch and let P do the work! You must do this!!! I believe standard practice in the US is for women to labour in the kitchen while the men sit in the lounge and watch TV? Fuck that!
    Your bacon infused bourbon though, is the first recipe of yours I haven’t really … taken to.

  3. I am with JoEtta, I didn’t realize you were back. Hooray! I spent yesterday catching up. I think bacon-infused bourbon sounds like it might be a great Christmas present. And beverage.

  4. This drink is on my to-do list. Also, next fall you can come to my house and we can make up our own holiday to cook a feast for as long as I get to do the turkey. I will love you forever.

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