A Very Brady Thanksgiving

Anyone who really knows Brady knows that while he seems to be good at just about everything he tries (don't get your hopes too high for your own success if you ever play board games or card games with him--and I won't even tell you how high his GRE scores were), one place where passion and talent collide wonderfully is in his cooking.

November is a big month for Brady, culinary-wise. Ellie's birthday, his birthday, and then Thanksgiving. Last year I was pretty much a zombie for all of November, trying to adjust to no sleep and feeding a baby who didn't want to be fed, so we didn't quite pull off the usual extravaganza. This year, it was on. I was back at my post as soux chef, enabling Brady's masterful creations (usually that means rushing around cleaning up whatever pot or utensil Brady just used so he can use it all over again--not very glamorous). For his birthday he got a new pizza stone and peel, so making flatbread pizzas was once again an option. He spent almost his entire birthday party in the kitchen making pizzas for everyone, and he loved it. And so did everyone who attended. The upside-down apple gingerbread cake didn't hurt matters either.

But the next week it was Thanksgiving, and then things really got serious. That is Brady's holiday. The cooking started Tuesday night and didn't end until Thursday at feast time, sticking somewhat closely to the carefully balanced pre-planned schedule. I documented our process, but then decided to leave out the uglier side of things (de-boning raw turkeys) and missed some of the prettier things (buttermilk pie), and without all the aromas, I don't know if my poor photography skills can do any of this justice, but here goes.


To have a very Brady Thanksgiving, you will need mounds and mounds of aromatic vegetables.


At least a dozen heads of roasted garlic for the honey garlic glaze. I, along with my brother-in-law Tyler, got to peel each individual clove. Like I said, not very glamorous, but worth it all in the end.


Brussels sprouts, even though everyone else is very leery about eating them, and most have never even tasted them. But you will get them fresh, saute them in a little bacon fat, add bits of bacon, pine nuts, raisins, currents, and a homemade vinaigrette and everyone will be pleasantly surprised.


Eight pounds of potatoes to steam--not boil--then mash.


Enough gravy to drown them in. And then some.


Cranberries sauced.


The renowned corn bread-pudding (not cornbread pudding) that family members wait all year to sample.


Sweet potato spinach pecan bacon salad you tasted at a restaurant once and loved so much you had to go home and recreate it yourself, after getting the dressing recipe from the restaurant's chef. Also a Brady Thanksgiving standard now.


Dark meat from the turkeys, which you painstakingly removed from the birds the day before and tied up to cook like roasts separately from the white meat. Because white meat and dark meat cook so differently, you explain about a hundred times to curious family members.


And the white meat, brined, cooked until partially done, then glazed, then cooked some more.


And then carved.

Everyone will ooh and ahh and be thoroughly amazed once again at your culinary skills and love every bite of every dish. Meanwhile, you will already be making adjustments in the garlic-to-honey ratio for next year's rendition and thinking of what cookbooks or new kitchen gadgets to ask for for Christmas.