It is officially an off-the-clock Friday. We used to have a different name for it- something about retailing. I forget. But today, under gentle gray skies with a whiff of Autumn still in them the dishwasher is empty, the left-overs beckon, and life is good.

As with all celebrations, there are a few things left over to sluice down and get squared away. I will do the words thing first. They are much lighter than the hose.

I talked to my brother yesterday morning, after I told the story about lumps of coal and Depression kids. Spike kindly filled in something I had forgotten. Uncle Jim told us that when the locomotives moved slowly through the little New Jersey town, he would throw rocks at the engine. The only thing the crew had to throw back was…coal. Uncle Jim later was an aeronautical engineer and orbital imagery specialist.

The other thing missing was the realization that this was a feast connected directly to the soil on which we live. Now, credit properly aligned, the Russians do all the work, but the bees from their hives buzz on our vegetation in season, and the honey they produce is awesome. The venison for the stuffing once moved across our pastures to within range of the hunting tower. And of course the Bird was a young one, and a welcome guest.

So it was a sumptuous feast with great neighbors, and connected to the place in a material way.

Anyway, I was going to tell you about the bacon-braided Turkey. It was a delight. This bird was nine-months old, and the bacon braid and honey-pepper glaze topped by orange slices. I had been sweating the braid process, since I had not attempted to weave anything since second grade. It turned out to be simple and strangely fun, folding greasy strips back and down to get a nice interwoven pattern. I performed the weaving on parchment paper, plopped the turkey inside down on the completed bacon mat, tucked it neatly around, and voila! Good to go!

I am not going to do the rest of the menu- suffice it to say it had a certain elegance. And of all the Turkey Days, this one will be especially memorable.

We can go back to everything else tomorrow. For today, we are off the clock.

Photos: Natasha, Grace and Vic

Copyright 2020 Vic Socotra
www.visocotra.com