So, it turns out that Thanksgiving is not the best time to have a really bad cold, the kind that is almost the flu because you are so tired and weak and have a sore throat and all you can think about is soup and the last thing you want to eat is a bunch of starchy buttery bready things.
This could be why I spent the day before Thanksgiving NOT pulling my menu together and shopping for last minute things at the Union Square Farmers Market, but rather dragging my mother and my husband into Manhattan to get soup at a ramen shop, and then even though we were just a few blocks from all the squash and fennel and kale and other seasonal bounty we could ever ask for to enhance our holiday table -- went to Sunrise Mart, the Japanese grocery store for miso and rice balls and staples for my new obsession, bento boxes.
Whatever, I pulled it together on Thursday morning. Brined the turkey, roasted it on high heat, made the stuffing, the fennel, the salad, did my trade with my friend Mirem (mmm, pots de creme and carmelized sweet potatoes), made my pies (pumpkin, apple, and a cranberry tart), and ... some other stuff. It was all good. Ate too much and drank too much, and woke up on Friday miraculously cured.