Nov. 3, 2005 – Originally published by CNC, Inc.

Thanksgiving Prep And The Kitchen Obstacle Course

I am probably going to be hosting Thanksgiving for family and friends this year, and since both McDonald's and Burger King have informed me that they cannot (or will not) cater it for me, I have begun to cast a somewhat critical eye around my kitchen, sort of sizing up my "artist's canvas," if you will. And it ain't pretty. I have a lot of obstacles to overcome if I want satisfied eaters by Thanksgiving Eve - in my dreamy mind's eye I picture grateful relatives with tears in their eyes clutching my flour-covered hands and exclaiming, "It was an almost mystical meal, really. We were transported to a level of happiness that seldom is reached by the mere eating of food. Bless you, dear." Of course, I also have those moments where my mind wanders to an equal and totally opposite scenario of beloved family and friends filling out forms in a hospital waiting room while I am questioned by officials from the CDC while they mutter, "we never thought bird flu could mean a simple turkey massively under-cooked! Call the Central Office and tell them to stand by!"

Now, the biggest obstacle I'm seeing is the actual kitchen itself, and I'll tell you why. We have a house that is over 70 years old, and apparently back when this house was built, in the 1930s, people were so distracted by the stock market or Jimmy Stewart movies or whatever that they didn't really think of "planning" a kitchen, per se. They just plopped the appliances around the room in no particular order, and raced back out to do more sledding, or typewriting, or wearing bigger shoulder pads, or whatever. So, cooking a meal in this kitchen is like running a track that leads right back to where you started. I now understand just how hamsters feel. The silverware drawer is nowhere near the stove, which is nowhere near the counters, which is nowhere near the fridge. The fridge, in fact, is in a shadowy corner of the kitchen and cannot be removed - ever - because additional counters were installed in front of it, those counters being nowhere near anything else, of course. If the fridge breaks down, we have to move. I have had seasoned, trained contractors in here that scratch their heads and then go out for beers to discuss it after seeing our refrigeration dilemma.

On the opposite wall from the fridge is a meat-grinder, and I'm not kidding. Apparently - get this - people used to grind their own meat. Can you believe it? I know there were restaurants back in the 30s, so there is simply no excuse for working that hard for supper. I would remove it but I can't; although our kitchen ceiling was put in using soft bubble gum for adhesive, the builders called over to Lockheed-Martin for the epoxy to hang this meat-grinder on the wall.

Another potential monkey wrench to my Thanksgiving meal is that my dishwasher broke about two months ago, and although it's great for storage (notebooks, mittens, assorted knickknacks that I'm "iffy" about) it doesn't wash any dishes. So, I have to hand-wash dishes, which is fine (they did this in the 1930s, too) but there isn't a lot of drying space on that counter due to the fact that I bought a popular "retro" toaster that is about the size of a steamer trunk yet can only toast vertically - you can't melt cheese or anything in it. In fact, I went through a regrettable "retro" phase last year, and all my appliances are "retro," including my coffee pot that has 16 removable parts including a "basket" you have to fill up with coffee, and sounds like a medivac helicopter getting ready for take-off while it's percolating. Now, retro appliances only look good in a modern, updated kitchen, folks - in an old, broken-down kitchen you begin to look like the Land That Time Forgot. In a recent picture of my family having breakfast, we look just like an old black-and-white photo of my grandparents at their own kitchen table years ago. Except they look a tad more modern than we do.

Another problem is really squarely on my shoulders - my kitchen drawers have gotten somewhat untidy. For example, the drawer that is supposed to only hold big spoons, measuring cups, and cooking implements now also contains store coupons, assorted jewelry, thumbtacks, car keys, school notices, Burpee seed packets, hand trowels, photos, and things like that. (I could just move that stuff to the dishwasher, actually.) So, I may have to schedule a time for "general cleaning" before I actually go get all the food.

Of course, what the day will really be about is family and friends, and how lucky we are. The meal is just the catalyst for all that goodwill, and I'm sure I'll get everything ready in time in this old kitchen. Or, I could just try to move before Thanksgiving. Maybe the fridge will break, and we'll have to!