So it's Thanksgiving eve. I put the 16-pound bird in my traditional Ace Hardware five-gallon poultry bucket, poured over the all spice-, ginger- and black peppercorn-spiced brine, and headed to my parents' house to leave it overnight in their "walk-in" (a.k.a. their screened-in back porch, winterized with heavy duty plastic that keeps it around a perfect 40 degrees).
When I got there, Mom and Dad were kicking it old school:
Dad hasn't made pies in years. Years, I tell you. But when I was growing up, he made pies all the time. In fact, his pie and bread exploits inspired my love of baking. I have him to thank for this little obsession of mine, and it was awesome to see him in full effect. (Mom, for her part, was excelling at one of her most valuable skills: MAKING STUFFING.)
I am thankful for Dad and his pies, and Mom and her stuffing. And Husband. And Jet pup. And, perhaps most of all, little Son.
May you all enjoy this holiday with your loved ones and a big pile of delicious food. Happy Thanksgiving!