I wrote a short story with this title when I was in 8th grade. The main character’s mother was highly adventurous in the kitchen. This was in contrast to my mother, who had to feed three finicky kids and didn’t dare cook outside the lines. I don’t remember the full story, but the last sentence was something to the extent that I expected squab to be on the menu the following year. Had I ever eaten squab (pigeon) at that time? Hell, no, and I still haven’t tried it.
Julian and I have done our share of Thanksgivings à deux over the years. Most of the time we’ve done turkeys. This year, however, we did duck. We were going to try a sheet pan deconstructed duck with sriracha and roasted fruit. I found the recipe in the Washington Post. We managed to find fresh figs – for a price. Unfortunately, the figs were compost and the duck didn’t thaw by Thursday morning. Back to the tried and true duck à l’orange.
As sides, I made dressing, fennel salad, cranberry-orange relish, and pumpkin pie. I wasn’t happy with how the pie turned out. It had too much clove, which drowned out the fresh ginger I’d grated into the filling.
Before dinner, we had a Zoom happy hour with the Seattle friends we usually gather with on the holiday. Our beverage at both happy hour and dinner was Château Ste. Michelle dry riesling. Even though it was a socially distanced holiday, we made it festive.
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