the feast of enough

Yesterday's Thanksgiving meal was, while decadent, not over-the-top. I made Mole Poblano (from scratch, even. Check out Diana Kennedy's From My Mexican Kitchen for some highly detailed recipes), Free-Range Organic Turkey, Black Beans, Salsa verde, cotija cheese and Low-Fat Quark, homemade corn tortillas, lacinato kale with shallots and garlic, my Pumpkin-Coconut pie. I had a small serving of each item, and another spoonful of beans. One small piece of pie with a little organic whipping cream (L does a great job every time-- she's a midwesterner, after all).

I may have had a little too much wine. We are, after all, dealing with the quiet and sad substory of a dying cat, and that may have been motivation to drink. But it was a good night, with good friends, in this new place that finally feels like a home, a place we can entertain, vast enough that we can look at each other across a fairly big room and feel love, unfettered by needing a little space.

What a revelation. And what a revelation to cook a dish I'd tried years ago, before my training, and to feel comfort, ease, an intuitive sense of flavor and texture-- the confidence to step in and out of the specific cuisine because I know what works together. And what a revelation to sit at the table and know that I don't need any more, even if it is delicious, because I have so many delicious meals ahead of me, and inside of me (consumed and waiting to be made), that this is one spot on the continuum of culinary experience.


I love that we finally have a place with room for a table, room for me to cook, room for the warmth and love of company, and yes, a dishwasher to ease the pain afterward.