Leftovers and Loafing

I just read the blog I wrote for Thanksgiving 2015.  How much I have learned since then.  I realized that my language skills have really improved.  When I get to chiding myself for loafing, like I have done all day today, (both the chiding and the loafing) I think back to where I was a year ago and where I am now.  I have an independent real French apartment, I have written nearly 100 blogs, improved my keyboard skills by regularly playing at the Protestant Church here, made new friends,  gotten my legal long-stay papers, bought French insurance, enrolled in the French health care system, and started the writing project I came here to do.  I think today I am entitled to loaf a bit.  I had this mystery--a psychological thriller--that I just could not put down.  And so I didn't. 

Not large dishes, but still plenty left over

I did not have guests for dinner yesterday.  For reasons I don't fully grasp, I am just not ready to entertain.  Maybe it's that I don't have enough--chairs, plates, wine glasses.  Maybe it's that I am still savoring peace and quiet and space to breathe.  I am not really sure, at base, what the reasons are. although I suspect laziness must be named in there at some point.  Thanksgiving entertaining is a lot of work and while I am not one of those people who thinks that because company is coming I should repaint the bathroom, I do make some effort.  This year, I just didn't have it in me. 

I did manage to cook--too much.  I bought a turkey thigh from Michel--no breast as well this year.  Since it was just going to me, and I prefer dark turkey to white turkey, I bought only a thigh.  Michel and his crew are not used to my buying a turkey thigh and leaving it intact.  They know that my usual order is a turkey thigh, skinned, boned and ground.  So, they didn't quite get what I wanted.  Michel boned it and then rolled and tied it, like a roast.  Interesting, but it takes too long to cook that way, so I won't do that again.  Christmas is coming and I will have turkey once again.

Monsieur Rabat, pere (Michel's father) and one of his cronies was in the butcher shop when I went in yesterday to get the turkey.  I wasn't making much headway trying to explain the concept of Thanksgiving.  Finally Michel stepped in and defined it as the American Turkey Day.  Ah, oui!!! That cleared everything right up. Monsieur Rabat was trying to explain me to his friend as the American, Michel kept trying to tell them that I live here now and the crony simply turned to me and said, "Trump,"  The entire butcher shop let out a big laugh.  How glad I am that this family already knows and likes me. 

The caukiflower gratin on the left??? So yummy

I halved or even made a third or a quarter of the recipes I found and I still ended up with too much food.  I had a hard time finding a yam that was not the size of Montana, and ended up eating maybe less than a quarter of the potato.  I also made shaved Brussels sprouts with walnuts and pecorino cheese.  I whipped up a small casserole of cauliflower gratin and I did make stuffing, with stale baguette cubes, prunes, apples, onions and a few nuts.  There was enough food there for four or five people.  I really did try to make less, but it's a war I can't seem to win. 

But today, I got to have leftovers.  I am always so glad to have them and it's one of the main reasons I like to have Thanksgiving dinners at my own house...the leftovers.  This evening's meal was a carbon copy of last night's with a fraction of the work.  

And that's a good thing, because I have been less than useless today--I have spent the entire day reading and writing.  The kitchen is tidied, I did get three French grammar lessons behind me.  But I haven't stirred from the apartment.  The sun streamed in, warm and comforting.  And I sat in it like a contented cat, my stomach and my heart full.  I wish this contentment for all.