EAT THIS: Thanksgiving Leftovers Faux-Pie – Heather Davis

Fake Pot Pie with Hard Core Mashed Potatoes

The day after Thanksgiving always throws me for a loop. I mean I just spent approximately fourty-two friggin’ hours cooking a meal that takes approximately thirteen minutes to devour but will set out for six hours until it’s picked plum apart. The day after Thanksgiving, then, someone will inevitably say, “Let’s have leftovers.” Ahhh, hell no. We ate the leftovers at about ten thirty last night, and it’s a wonder anyone is even still hungry considering we had enough to feed a squadron of army dudes and actually only had ten people at the meal.

But, eaters be eatin’ and you’ll need to have something to feed them. Here’s my fool-proof plan to earn a spot in the “Day-After-Thanksgiving-Hall-Of-Fame.”

Here’s what you’ll need:

  • 2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
  • 2 cans of turkey gravy (yes cans… you want real gravy, make it yourself)
  • 1 can of mixed vegetables
  • 1 c shredded cheese
  • 2 frozen pie crusts
  • 3 large potatoes
  • ¾ c half and half
  • ½ c butter
  • salt
  • pepper

Two weeks before Thanksgiving, boil two chicken breasts. Add salt and pepper. When the chicken is done, remove it from the broth and add more water. [Read more...]

Ask The Suniverse on FnS – Vol. 1 Edition 12

Dear Suniverse,

Although I’m quite the “as a matter of fact, yes this dildo IS awesome” online, I am quite the opposite in real life — or at least, with people I do not know.

Whether I pack my special toys in my main suitcase or in my carry-on, there’s serious intrusion of privacy shit that can play out either way.

Why not just leave my toys at home, you ask? Well, fuck. I’m a firm believer of the old proverb: “Don’t leave home without it.” (Don’t fool yourself, that shit did NOT start with American Express.)

Sunni, especially in this world we’re living in, there is a very strong likelihood that your private-ness could be put on display for everyone to see. Do you have some pointers as to A. How to hide said special objects in a stealth-like manner? and B. How would you handle such a situation when you’re travelling?

Sincerely,

Lady E, Adventures in Estrogen

 

Lady E,

I am right there with you – not in that I travel with my Happy Maker to every destination, but in that I have twice now gone to conferences in the past few months where Lady Pleasurers were given as swag [and a big thank you, to you, too, Sweetie!]. The husband is thrilled with this turn of events, as am I, but since I’ve flown both places, I’ve also been subject to the invasive search [no, not body cavity invasive; standard TSA invasive].

In both these instances, I’ve just put my carry-on bag on the XRay scanner and walked right through [well, I’ve more minced right through, because I’ve been barefoot and PUBLIC FLOORS ARE DISGUSTING], head held high, daring anyone to say anything about the interestingly shaped objects in my bag. [Read more...]

Memoirs of My America – When is Dressing Stuffing?

Thanksgiving is meant to be a celebratory time, of when the Pilgrims were helped by the Native Americans and there was a horn o’plenty of food. It was a good harvest, and along with eating there were three days of games and social cooperation. Peace among the people, eating together and sharing alike. No one cared that you called it corn and another called it maize. The feast was delicious and it filled your belly; and it was a time that would go down in history.

Giving of what you have to others should bring out some warm fuzzy feelings of love for one another. And Thanksgiving can do that, except when someone reaches across the table and asks another to “pass the dressing, please.” And that person a few chairs down sends a bottle of Wish-bone Green Goddess back their way.

“Excuse me, I asked for the dressing.”

“Right. And so there you go–dressing.”

“No, the dressing. The side dish there, the savory croutons drowned in butter. Please.”

“That would be stuffing. You want stuffing.”

“No, it’s dressing. My mother called it dressing. Pass the dressing, please.”

“Dressing is salad dressing. That’s what I gave you. If it’s stuffing you want, I can give you stuffing.”

“I don’t call it stuffing. Stuffing is made inside the bird. This was made on the side. I’d like that bowl of dressing that was made outside of the turkey. Please.” [Read more...]

Gobble Gobble – A Tale of Turkey Trepidation by Elizabeth Bastos

turkey trepidationMy holiday eating has swung like a pendulum through fashions. In college, I was a vegetarian. I gave the righteous stink-eye to my family as they were tucking in to the Thanksgiving bird. That’s an animal, I said. They were like, And? So? More dark meat for us.

Later, I became interested in farm to table like everyone else, and I ordered a bird through some Amish farmer cooperative in Pennsylvania. Later, I learned from an aunt in York that the Amish don’t necessarily treat their animals better than anyone else. So forget the Amish. The thing to do was to get a Kosher turkey, so the next year I did that. It was awfully salty. The pan juices reminded me of the months I spent in Israel.

I entertained the idea of hand-raising a turkey, but in high school when I went through a dorky aquarium-fish phase, I killed guppies. Accidentally. I just forgot to clean the aquarium for a year, my mind being on other things: Chris Nagy, the cutest brown-eyed blond thing in Western Pennsylvania that I knew. [Read more...]