Mary Bellamy

It's just not Thanksgiving until someone cries "Oooh....my stomach!" At Hidden Hill, the residents and Quakers all gather together for a meal of epic proportions. How epic, you ask?

I think you can see the end of the tables in the distance.




There was no way I was getting up for anything, since I had convinced people to set the tables up around my spot in the recliner.


Instead, I tried asking Jacob to pass the salt. He was most uncooperative, but he and Gretta were drinking. Savage convinced Jacob to supply Mexican organic coffee for the feast, which he then drank all day.


Despite the fact that Savage slaved for days over that damn turkey, Jacob and Gretta opted to stay vegan. Behold, the glory of the tofurkey!!


But please don't actually taste the tofurkey. After seeing Tom's reaction, I tried a bite. My opinion? It's ... distinctive.


I chose instead to fill my plate with Amithye's mashed potatoes. I first met these potatoes in the form of leftovers last Thanksgiving. I ate them all. These, my friend, are the potatoes of the gods. Most mortals cannot survive a brush with them, and, truth be told, they nearly did me in as well.

Or maybe it was all the desserts that almost killed me. They were my contribution to the meal, and I started making them Wednesday afternoon. I didn't try the pumpkin-rum couscous cake, because I don't like pumpkin and it was vegan. However, the cranberry-lime tart with white chocolate cream and almond crust was so good that Savage actually licked the inside of his bowl. And the brown sugar-bourbon cheesecake with pecan-chocolate crust and butterscotch-bourbon glaze made Tom take the Lord's name in vain. Twice.

I'll bet those descriptions made you hungry. Check out my other blog, The Deft Palate, for photos and recipes. But not just yet. I'm still digesting....