Gobbling Away

As my friend Alex said, late November calls for a re-calibration of appetite. After a national holiday akin to human foie gras making, it is needed.

For example, the moment your stomach ceases to be painfully full does not mean it's time to eat again. A slice of pie doesn't necessarily follow every meal.

For the last five years, my family has had an afternoon Thanksgiving dinner with my mother's family and then a leftover turkey sandwich with the Bloom side. This Turkey Day Double Dip means the line between lunch dessert and supper is blurry one.

This year was especially fun, socially and gastronomically. My Uncle Rich brined the bird overnight in a giant Ziplock bag and it worked. Even the white meat was incredibly moist. I dodged the appetite-damaging mashed potatoes, but had loads of Ritz cracker stuffing and the traditional sweet potato and apple casserole.

After an apple crisp and some semblance of digestion, it was supper time according to the clock (but not my stomach). We zipped over to Aunt Nancy's place, where I enjoyed an iconic turkey, stuffing, cranberry and mayo sandwich on a challah roll. I managed to squeeze in a slice of Grandma Bloom's always excellent blueberry pie and a surprising number of Tollhouse cookies.

Friday was quite the same for the Spoonstress, the parents Fork and me. In an effort to enjoy all that Boston has to offer, we downed dim sum, a cannoli with coffee and dinner in a six-hour span.

The Spoonstress and I were in peak eating shape by Saturday, the day of my friend Murro's annual turkey dunk. Murro, a Cape Cod woodworker, has been deep-frying turkeys and other edibles for ages, and each year he kicks things up a notch. I was ready. The sight of a bubbling deep fryer, a chugging smoker and four birds hanging from a tree simply prompted one question--'What's for dessert?'

Now I'm trying not to ask that question after every meal. Wish me luck.