Birthday Dinner, Thanksgiving Style

Today I write in tribute to Nina’s cooking. While I am relatively new to the blogging world, I’ve found that many people dedicate full posts to what they ate that day. Surely this seems a bit ridiculous, but since I’m lacking creative ideas today, I figure I might as well give it a shot.

My birthday is coming up (it’s tomorrow, actually) and Nina likes to go over the top when it comes to such things. She invited Dell and Sara and Bob and Jan over for dinner on Saturday night, and cooked a feast that should’ve won some sort of award. She really outdid herself.

Since my favorite holiday is Thanksgiving, she cooked the traditional meal in my honor in the middle of May. The first course was a delicious Chinese chicken soup, despite the fact that that didn’t truly fit the theme. She followed with two different salads, one traditional and one with those baby greens or baby leaves or whatever they’re called. The turkey was served steaming straight out of the oven, dripping gravy, its smell from the kitchen making my mouth water before I even laid eyes on it. With that there were creamy buttery mashed potatoes, stir-fried string beans, and of course, the cranberry crisp. I opened a bottle of one of my better wines, and we stayed up late until it was all we could do not to fall asleep in our chairs, fat and happy.

A Bit About Conan

Nina insists I write an entry introducing you to Conan. Well, let’s see….

We found him nearly a year ago now, during one of our hikes at the Ethan Allen Homestead trail in the spring. We’d stopped to admire the view, and I sketched the wild flowers while Nina chatted at me. She was sitting on the ground when suddenly a little red ball threw itself out of the bushes and straight into her lap, wriggling and licking as if she’d known it all along. Of course, it was love at first site for her- who can resist such an enthusiastic puppy- but I was much more hesitant. The pup had a collar on, and appeared to be a purebred setter. I felt it was surely lost and well missed. Much to Nina’s relief I was wrong, and when we found no trace of its owners, he moved in for good.

As for his name, Nina has an unusual interest in Ireland and Gaelic. When looking up names online, we came across Conan, meaning hound, or wolf, in Gaelic. Me being a fan of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and his works, it seemed a suitable name, and so it was settled. Of course, if we’d have known about his almost unnatural love of water, we might’ve gone with something more maritime…