Greetings, my fellow port swillers and Happy Thanksgiving!

All is well here at Port Swiller Manor even though we are of course disappointed that the current cower in place rules prevent us from visiting my brother’s family this year. I find myself very sharply divided, yet not at all conflicted, between rendering thanks unto God while rendering disgust and loathing unto Caesar and his minions.

For all that, I am determined to make something of the celebration and am looking forward to cooking up a nice dins later. As somebody here recommended, I’m going with Cornish game hen, coupled with the simplest of side dishes (herbed mashed potatoes, stuffing with and without sausage, asparagus, and mac-cheese as a backstop). My theory is that if the Gels put up their noses at the chicken (in a recipe I’ve never tried before), they can at least load up on the others, plus the pie, of course.

Speaking of which, Ol’ Robbo was actually very fortunate in getting the last couple of game hens at the groc store the other day. The meat department lady told me they’ve been flying off the shelves this year. (So to speak.) On the other hand, the cases were absolutely stuffed with turkeys. Big ones, too. I honestly don’t know if Kommissar Northam slapped maximum occupancy restrictions on family gatherings here in the Commonwealth, but the store evidently wasn’t betting on it.

Anyhoo, I hope all of you friends of the decanter have a happy and joyous (and thankful) day today. I’ll see you on the other side.

Post-Food Coma UPDATE: A lovely dinner. It’s good to have all the Gels home.

As for the food, Ol’ Robbo has mentioned here before that the Port Swiller Manor kitchen is really not much more than a moderately souped-up galley and has nothing of the gerrrrr-may about it. Thus, putting together multiple multi-step dishes becomes a distinct logistical challenge. It’s a real joy to me to successfully navigate my way through and have everything appear at table at the same time. So far as the game hen went, the recipe (basically a honey-glaze) turned out rayther more pedestrian than what I originally wanted, but was accepted without complaint. The mashed ‘taters were a distinct success.

As for family time with said Gels, we got into a wide-ranging discussion of film versions of Shakespeare in general, and the many cinematic crimes of Kenneth Branagh in particular. Youngest is enamored of his “Hamlet” because of its lavish production values. Me? As outstanding an actor as he is, I think giving Branagh directorial control is (to borrow from Peej O’Rourke) like giving whiskey and car keys to a teenager.

Good times. Good times.

UPDATE DEUX: Oh, by the bye, the Gels swore they saw a nooz story about a grocery chain that required customers purchasing Thanksgiving turkeys to sign a written declaration that they would not be feeding more than eight persons with it. Evidently, this was not a creation of the Babylon Bee, but I can’t seem to find it. I’d have liked somebody to try that with me.