White Christmas Eve!

(Photo 1: front courtyard this morning.)
For the first time in over 25 years Seattle will have snow for Christmas. I got out to Geekatopia for a half day yesterday - though it was touch and go the whole trip. Flipper, my van, nearly lived up to his name as we slid and spun through several feet of ice and snow all over Mercer Island and Bellevue. (Photo 2: Picnic on back deck.) This morning with three more inches on the ground he has refused to move from his nice safe parking space beside the fence. I don't blame him! I am going to start a cheery fire in the fireplace and get on with some serious revisions on this year's NaNoWriMo novel. Cheers!

WINTER SOLSTICE

Happy Winter Solstice!

Every ten years or so Seattle gets a genuine Winter instead of our usual pathetic misty moisties. This morning we are in the cross hairs of a mini-ice age, the forecast warning of high winds, snow, freezing rain. The thermometer on the back deck reads twelve degrees. A recipe for power outages and cold suppers if I ever saw one. By this time tomorrow I may be stoking up the fireplace insert and thanking my lucky stars I have enough lamp oil stored in the garage. But since computers are not oil-powered there is a certain urgency in getting the post up today.

Where was last week’s post, you might wonder. Frozen under a foot of last week’s snow of course. Not one flake has melted off the courtyard, the garden, the deck, or Flipper, my poor work van (see above), since it buried us Wednesday night. Still, Flipper and I managed to make it to all but nineteen accounts before getting stopped in our tracks by this Fargo-like weather. I despair of next week’s route - how on earth will I dig myself out of the drifts and pack forty hours of work into three days? And three days it will be since Christmas is on Thursday! How many offices are likely to be open on Friday, do you think? Pretty much none.

One thing to know about Seattle: we don’t do snow. We have nothing much in the way of snow plows so our tactic has always been to hunker down at the sight of the first flake, halting all activity until melt-off - which is usually a matter of hours. Just as native Seattlites don’t own umbrellas, they also don’t generally possess snow boots, gloves, woolly scarves and hats or thermal underwear unless they are addicted to skiing or snow boarding.

Yesterday I watched two snowmobiles churn their way up my street toward Albertson’s supermarket - I found myself envying them as I dressed myself in multiple layers, located my black kid opera gloves and the wool watch cap my dad wore for decades on the flight line down at Boeing. Garbed like one of the South Park kids, I set off up the hill with a Trader Joe’s bag under one arm and a short grocery list stuffed in my pocket. It was an endless, slippery, bone-chilling two blocks. By the time I reached Albertson’s my glasses had steamed over, my nose was running, and I was kicking myself that I hadn’t hitched a ride from the guys on the snowmobiles.

I bought a package of split peas, a couple of ham hocks, carrots and celery - the prospect of a steaming pot of homemade split pea soup being the only thing capable of prying me out of my nice warm house and up that snowy hill! On the way home I noticed a neighbor trying to clear his driveway by dragging a hand truck up and down the slope - which I thought was pretty creative on his part.
Still, I felt sorry for the poor guy so as soon as I got home with the soup makings I loaned him my snow shovel - the snow shovel I use for spreading bark around the garden. My five year old five-dollar snow shovel is finally doing the job it was created for! Just goes to show.

So, just in case I am stranded in an ice cave until 2009, happy holidays from our house to yours!!

Gobble-gobble

Nope, it hasn't snowed - this photo was taken last year, but this is the weekend I decorate the house plants for the holidays. Our tiny house is too small for a full-blown tree - even if I were someone who believed in killing a perfectly happy tree for a few weeks of glitz and glam. Plant ladies don't murder plants if they can help it.

In many ways this tradition of decorating the family houseplants is more meaningful to me than if I bought a fir tree down at the market. The Christmas cactus at the center of the photo is the one I inherited from my grandmother - she in turn inherited it from her mother, the original Sallie Tierney. The "library table" on which the plants stand was also my grandmother's and appears in Christmas photographs all the way back to the 1930s.

And speaking of traditions, every year my sister calls to ask how to roast a turkey - this Thanksgiving was no exception. I take it as a compliment that she thinks I actually know how to perform this mystical seasonal ritual. Our grandmother (same one who passed down the Christmas cactus) hated cooking - agonized over holiday dinners so intensely that she made herself sick with stress every year. I don't remember her ever just enjoying the holidays. She agonized over every dish - but especially the turkey.

Over the years I must have tried dozens of turkey roasting theories. I've basted, trussed, rubbed, brined, stuffed, unstuffed, herbed, buttered, oiled, smoked and bar-b-qued - roasted breast side up and breast side down - quick cook and slow cook. The only thing I have never tried is deep fried - I'm a total coward when it comes to boiling oil!

I have found only one sure-fire, stress-free, perfect way to roast a turkey - and it is also the easiest method. Here's the instructions for benefit of my sister and all other turkey-intimidated folks:

1. Thaw bird (remembering to remove the weird little packets of turkey guts)
2. Rub olive oil all over the bird. Tuck wing tips under bird - wrap drumstick ends with foil
3. IF YOU WISH, rub bird inside and out with herbs/spices of your choice - I like lemon pepper this year. Think of the turkey as a humongous chicken and get creative. Forget the salt - most turkeys are pumped with salt water these days.
4. No matter how tempted, do not stuff anything at all into the cavity! No onions, herbs, bread - nothing. Why ask for trouble? It roasts more evenly unstuffed.
5. Place bird in roasting pan breast side up. Pour an inch or two of water or white wine or both in roasting pan. DON'T COVER!
6. Place bird on lower rack of an oven preheated to 475 degrees - Yep, I said 475. Roast for 30 to 45 minutes at that temperature until top of bird is starting to brown. This step seals in the moisture, ensuring that the turkey will not be dry.
7. Now, lower oven temperature to 325 or 350. Loosely cover turkey with a sheet of aluminum foil. (Do not use roasting pan lid)
8. Take a nap, go shopping, eat a can of black olives, feed the cat, write a poem. Don't even think about the turkey. It's not going anywhere and doesn't need anything from you.If you just can't stand not peeking, check it after a few hours - add water to the roasting pan if it's getting dry. Baste if it makes you feel noble.
9. After about 5 or 6 hours (for a 20lb bird) the little button will pop up (if you bought one of those button-equipped turkeys) - or you can use a meat thermometer or wiggle a leg to see if the turkey is done.
10. When the turkey is done, remove from oven and let it "rest" for 15 or 20 minutes. Carve it. Serve it. Save the bones for the best part of the meal - turkey soup! (People who know me, know that I have the stock pot going well before anyone sits down to the holiday meal.)

Okay, that's it. Print it up, Mary Ann, so you won't have to call in a few weeks - but call anyway!