We had about seventeen people in our house on Thanksgiving Day. Partly because we have no family locally and love collecting stragglers; and partly because my husband will cook enough food for seventeen people regardless of the number of people at our table. Lord love his Southern behind, he is a fantastic cook, even if he incorporates bacon or bacon grease into everything makes (I know, I’m saying it like it’s a bad thing). I truly appreciate our vegan friend who went omnivore on Thanksgiving because she pretty much couldn’t avoid the bacon.
Between our pork-filled creations, the locally grown CNG pastured turkey, and the contributions from friends, our table was literally groaning. It was chaotic, crazy, noisy, and fun, just the way we like holidays.
Yes, that’s Pat Robertson-induced mac and cheese in the foreground.
We had a ridiculous number of desserts, all fantastic. My pumpkin and apple pies were joined by chocolate raspberry pie, chocolate pecan pie, tiramisu, and chocolate torte. NOM.
Now, two days later and five rounds of running the dishwasher, I think we’re almost caught up with the dishes. It was worth it.