in honor of thanksgiving

my wonderful in-laws traveled almost 1000 miles to spend thanksgiving with us. if we're all honest, they come to see luke -- we spent two thanksgivings alone here before he was born. but, regardless of why they come, we are thrilled they are here.

if michael and i were alone this year, we had planned to spend the afternoon with friends and their family. then, i wouldn't have had to do any more cooking, aside from our one-dish contribution to the meal. i've already cooked three turkeys for our neighbors, in addition to mashed potoatoes, stuffing, gravy and pie. i was thrilled to not have to cook another meal.

the three turkeys i cooked initially turned out really well, if i do say so myself. the first year i roasted a turkey, i cooked it in a bag and it wasn't done enough to my liking. since then, i prefer to simply roast them (maybe next year i'll try a brine), which is simple and they turn out well.

which is more than i can say for the first ham i cooked.

michael and i had been married a few month over a year when we decided to host easter lunch for his parents and a few guys from the university dorm. michael's parents were traveling an hour and a half and single guys never bring anything to a family dinner so i made everything for the meal.

i'd never baked a ham, but it seemed easy enough. i bought a smll boneless ham and followed the directions completely. because, after all, i am a rule-follower. sometimes.

well, almost. when i got to the step that told me to remove the inner wrapper, i didn't. there wasn't an inner wrapper on my ham. i looked several times and poked at the ham. it just wasn't there.

i used my mom's recipe to glaze the ham and popped it in the oven after we got home from church.

i checked it with my meat thermometer at the appropriate time and the ham was a llloooooong way from being done. i was a little surprised, but it was the first ham i'd ever baked. i knew nothing about cooking times and just assumed it needed a little longer. besides, we had a pretty ghetto gas oven and it ocassionally didn't light entirely. or cook quickly.

thirty minutes later, the ham still wasn't done. or really, even close to done. everyone had been sitting politely around our living room, chatting together, but i was starting to get anxious. in a hushed whisper, i called my clueless-about-my-dilemma husband into the kitchen to consult with me about our options.

his suggestion shocked me: microwave the ham. microwave it? he couldn't be serious. you can't microwave a family holiday dinner.

at least, my mom never did.

but, i was out of options. so i did what any desperate young wife would do. i put the ham in a corningware dish, glazed it again and set the microwave for three minutes. when i pulled it out to see if it was helping, i suddenly realized why it wasn't baking quickly. the inner wrapper that i hadn't removed was shriveled around the ham.

i had spent the morning glazing the wrapper of the ham instead of the ham itself.

fortunately for me, the ham still tasted great, at least my mother-in-law claimed it did. and, we had a fabulous dessert afterward.

no one can mess up chocolate.

chut-ney!

our dinner sunday night reminded michael and me of the first meal i made that we had to pitch.

during our first seven months of marriage, we lived in student housing because michael was an ra. free tuition. free room. free board, for us both. so, we spent more time in the dining hall than this newly married bride would have preferred. especially since the closest dining hall to our apartment was the one in the largest all-male dorm in the country. nothing quite like eating dinner with 1500 smelling single men to make you appreciate all things feminine.

by the time we rented our first apartment i was eager to cook for my husband. perhaps a little too eager. we both, i mean, michael gained 15 pounds our first year of marriage. i was so excited about cooking that i wanted to try all the exotic recipes in my betty crocker cookbook. betty and i got to be good friends those first months in our apartment. she only let me down once.

one night, clearly living in the fog of newly-wedded bliss and unable to make wise, rationale decisions, i decided i would cook for my new husband a delectable meal of tandoori chicken and chutney. i still don't know what possessed me to try to cook an indian dish i'd NEVER HEARD OF OR EATEN. love. it was love, i tell you.

the spicy yogurt marinade was the weirdest thing this midwest farmer's daughter has ever made. i followed the directions as best as i could, and as i cooked the chicken in the skillet, the thick marinade entirely blackened the bottom of my pan. i thought i'd ruined the pan. determined to not be overcome, i continued. i never even called my mom who wouldn't have known what tandoori chicken was, anyway.

the kicker to the recipe was the chutney i spent a couple hours making, described by betty as "both a little sweet and a little sour." i remember thinking, we both like sweet and sour chicken. this will be good! i didn't realize that by sweet and sour, betty actually meant vile.

the chutney was horrendous. i refused to eat the meal. my sweet husband did his best to stomach the chicken, after scraping off the chutney, but in the end we ordered a pizza. for the first time ever.

crock pot, you are not my friend

i wouldn't say i'm a fabulous cook (certainly no rachael ray), but i can find my way around the kitchen without much difficulty -- and with only a few phone calls to my mom. during the years of our marriage, we've only had to order pizza spontaneously once or twice. tonight was almost the third time.

earlier this past week, i decided we would have a "comfort meal" this afternoon: pot roast, potatoes, carrots. found a great recipe. bought a chuck roast. made sure i had all necessary ingredients. all without a single phone call to mom.

i forgot to put the roast in the crock pot last night, so when we got home from church, i prepped it for dinner tonight. since i didn't have 10 hours to let it cook, i turned the crockery on high and let it do its thing while i curled up on the bed and napped. oh, the joys of crock-pot cooking!

i should say that while i am adept in the kitchen, i don't know anything about cuts of meat. or, how to pick a good cut. i just buy what the recipe says, sometimes asking for help from the friendly butcher, and figure it will all work out. and, it usually does.

except today it didn't. after several hours, i noticed the roast wasn't really falling apart like it should. enter desperate call to mom, who was too busy to field my culinary emergency. the roast was definitely done cooking. i cooked it another two hours, you know, just to make sure. when i pulled it out of the crock pot, it came in one giant heap of beef -- all held together by the most fat i'd ever seen within a piece of meat. i tugged and pulled and was able to scrape together a pile of roast for the two of us.

i think michael would have rather ordered pizza.

when i finished eating a small helping of roast, my mouth felt like i'd just put on lip gloss. the vegetables were good, but i should have passed on the meat.

for dinner, michael had two pieces of toast. my bowl of cheerios were quite tasty!