Local leftovers

Being surrounded by a three guys sneezing and coughing finally caught up with me, so as they came out of their low energy state, I hied myself to bed with tea and orange juice. Because this is the way things work out, the boys are on break, which means I can’t just sleep through their school hours and bumble my way through the two hours before Darling Husband can come home. Nope, this is full-day parenting. Darling Husband, my hero, always rises to the occasion, juggling telecommuting with dadding with amazing alacrity.

Lucky for us all, they can go off in search of fire stations or whatever it is guys do together and still have a hot supper, since we’re fixed for leftovers. Last Saturday, I stocked up on loads of local goodies at the farmer’s market, but kids with colds don’t eat as much as I’m used to, so the fridge was literally bursting. From Monday, there was corned beef, a lovely uncured one from Hempler’s, some garlic and leek mashed potatoes (I am reminded of a video of Julia Child, noting that if you didn’t want to use that much butter in mashed potatoes, well then, why not use some cream instead!), and some stubby young carrots, as well as the requisite cabbage wedges. Add to that some incredibly sweet red beets, and we have been enjoying a local feast without really cooking: corned beef hash, veggies and rice, you get the picture.

This morning, I actually got quasi-dressed and took Number One Son across the bridge to cello lesson, and Little One and I headed to Bedrock to look at recycled glass tiles for the kitchen backsplash. He always delights in the one-of-a-kind oddities that these folks create from broken bottles. While I fussed with different shades of glass tile, he tinkered in the lower bins, finding stars hiding in a dark blue sky (vodka bottles), some crinkly plates (old windows), and the place where the cat sleeps (next to the solar panel that powers the radio playing kitty jazz).

Irish neighbor still has her tricolor flag hanging in her front yard, which means we can still celebrate St. Paddy’s day. Which I think means we’re having corned beef sandwiches for lunch.

Turkey soup

There is a reason that I’m chopping carrots in my nightgown.

The two turkeys provided by two incredible women and the myriad of side dishes and pies were reduced to very little in the way of leftovers, but we snagged two treasures: a tiny plastic container of stuffing (enough to fight over, and a reason to see Patti again, to return the Tupperware) and a turkey carcass.

As expected when I eat things I shouldn’t eat (stuffing and pumpkin pie spring readily to mind), I woke with a headache. I swallowed some herbs and hoped for the best. Our Plan of the Day was to hitch a bus into town and take the monorail to Seattle Center, where Nose in a Book was to be performing with the Junior Symphony, but her mom called to say she was sick, so we regrouped. Black Friday and downtown isn’t particularly interesting to those of us who eschew materialism, and the sun was shining, so we made some calls. Some fellow first-grade parents were game for a day in the park and a good long walk, so we met up in St. Edward’s State Park and let the kids play for a bit, then headed down to the water. The cool air and warm sun felt wonderful, and we capped it off by helping them work their way through their yummy and allergen-free leftovers.

We had one more social stop for the evening, dropping in on our British neighbors for drinks and little noshes. By this time, my head had not improved and I was feeling crushingly tired, clear harbingers of a cold. And sure enough, the next morning I woke groggy and congested.

Darling Husband put on his shining armor and took both boys away for the bulk of the day, indulging the boys in such Daddy adventures as a blueberry pancake breakfast and cool shoe shopping. I figured I needed soup, but with nothing in the larder (I’d used it for the stuffing), and no one to do my bidding (here at least), I threw a sweater on over my nightie and headed to the kitchen. Making stock takes very little energy (no need to chop anything), and putting it on a low flame meant that I could get a good snooze in before making soup, also a low-energy effort. Celery, carrots and a couple of handfuls of rice meant that supper was simmering by the time the boys made their way home.

Well-meaning folk told me I would regret the potluck aspect of this Thanksgiving, that there would be no leftovers. They are right, but they were wrong. We haven’t had extra meat for sandwiches, but we enjoyed friends’ leftovers, and a bubbling pot of turkey soup honors the effort of the turkey growers, reminds me of the warmth of the gathering, and heals my sniffles.

Which is why I was chopping carrots in my nightgown.