Thursday, November 25, 2004

All about stuffing.

Once again, people went back for seconds on my sweet potatoes, the sole recipe that I pride myself on and question people about (to an annoying degree) every Thanksgiving.

This year, serving it at Larry's, it was a hit alongside the turkey and muffin-pan individualized servings of crisp stuffing, which also was quite good.

I'm tired and drunk right now.

Last night, I drove to Vic's house while they were cooking, and I stayed there until 4 a.m., working as an unofficial taster of the ham and sampler of the cornbread stuffing, of which they had three pans.

I love stuffing. I love it. It's my favorite. Earlier at dinner, I got into a discussion with a doctor over the health merits of putting it inside the bird or not. I'm for stuffing the turkey. He is not. He's a doctor. Maybe you ought to not listen to me, but my idea is, in my defense, tasty.

I've been tempted to watch a Frank Capra or Capraesque movie. That's the mood I'm in right now.

Oh dear, Dr. Brodeur just called to me from the living room, and he told me to look up the meaning of "fascism" on the Internet. He and Larry are discussing President Bush again.

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