the thanksgiving that was

I was in the kitchen for seven hours straight. I used a kilo of flour and almost a kilo of butter. The calorie content of that room yesterday could've killed a full grown man. It was Thanksgiving (ok, the day after) and I went hardcore. It was serious. I got home from work, and the cooking started. It must have been because this was the third Thanksgiving that I haven't been at home. The first, both my parents and my brother came to Madrid. Last year, it was a small affair with a few friends. This year, it was a dinner with about 35 people, half Spanish and half American, truly crazy. So anyway. After a conference call with my mother and aunt and cousin about the troubling consistency of my pie dough, I was ready to go, game face on. First pie, pumpkin. No problems. My pie dough, a little crumbly. Rolling it out with a thermos instead of a rolling pin may have effected that. But I kept it going! Next up, the mixed nut tart with a cookie crust. The cookie crust nearly broke my blender (there was a funny smell), but I continued on. Chopped nuts, mixed corn syrup, pressed the crust into the tin foil pan, and into the oven. A note about tin foil pans. Una mierda! (Ehem. Bullshit) They don't hold anything. And they explode in your oven, leaving you a disaster to clean up. But whatever, so I had to scoop up some of the filling with a spatula. No worries. On to number 3! The crowning jewel, the maple pecan pie. My seventh pie crust turned out great, I finally figured out the butter to Crisco ratio. And after the pie, I whipped up some sweet potatoes. Marshmellows please! And finally, I had a friend help me transport all this baking. And then, we ate. And ate. And then, exhausted, stuffed, I went home to sleep. Thanksgiving, de verdad.