Do the Work Early So You Can Actually Have Thanksgiving
Hunnies, if you followed Part One, we have officially made it to Thanksgiving week.
The menu is planned.
Everybody knows what they’re bringing.
Most of the groceries are bought.
The disposable pans are waiting.
The leftover containers are ready.
And, for the love of poultry, the turkey is thawing.
Look at us.
Now we’ve got one job:
Do as much as we can before Thanksgiving Day so that on Thanksgiving Day, we can actually HAVE Thanksgiving.
Because I love cooking for my people.
I love feeding my people.
What I do not love is realizing everybody else has been laughing in the living room for two hours while I’ve been trapped in the kitchen peeling, chopping and wondering why I chose this life.
So we’re getting ahead.
Tuesday: Welcome to Sous-Chef Night
Tuesday is when I start making Wednesday Jane’s life easier.
And this is something I remember my Mamaw doing.
Let’s say I need half an onion for one casserole.
A quarter of an onion for something else.
Another onion for something over yonder.
I’m not getting out the cutting board three separate times.
Add up the onions and chop the dang onions.
All of them.
Then portion them out.
Onions for the broccoli casserole go in one bag.
Onions for something else go in another.
Label them.
Done.
Same goes for whatever else can appropriately be prepped ahead.
Measure.
Chop.
Portion.
Label.
Tuesday Jane isn’t necessarily making the casseroles.
She’s being Wednesday Jane’s sous chef.
And if you’ve got the refrigerator space, take it one step further.
Get out the actual casserole dish you’re going to use and put the individually bagged ingredients right there with it.
Then when you’re ready to assemble that casserole, you pull out the dish and—
LOOK AT THAT.
Her belongings are already with her. 😂
Now, I don’t always have that kind of refrigerator real estate.
Thanksgiving food starts moving in and suddenly my refrigerator looks like we’re preparing to survive the winter.
So if you don’t have the room, don’t worry about it.
Pre-portion.
Label.
Stack things where you can.
The point is simple:
Wednesday Jane should not have to start every recipe from zero.
Wednesday: Assemble, Babycakes
Wednesday is casserole-and-dessert day.
Tuesday Jane already did a bunch of the annoying little jobs, so now I can start putting things together.
Casseroles get assembled.
Desserts get made.
Whatever can safely and reasonably be prepared ahead gets handled.
And this is where The Recipe Box starts earning her keep.
My Thanksgiving table has recipes from all over the place.
Some have been passed down through generations.
Some are mine.
And some came from some beautiful person on Pinterest who had an idea worth keeping.
I’ll be adding our Thanksgiving favorites to the Recipe Box as we go.
By Wednesday night, though, I want very few things that still require actual prep.
Cooking on Thanksgiving?
Of course.
Heating?
Yep.
Baking?
Absolutely.
But chopping three onions, grating two blocks of cheese and assembling six casseroles?
No ma’am.
We had Tuesday and Wednesday for that foolishness.
Wednesday Night: Give the Oven a Schedule
Once everything is assembled, I make one more plan.
The oven schedule.
Because babycakes, every casserole you own cannot go into the oven at 11:30. 😂
I write down what needs the oven, what temperature it needs, how long it needs to cook or heat, and how well it will hold once it’s finished.
Then I work backward from when we want to eat.
And this changes every year.
Different people.
Different dishes.
Different quantities.
Different oven needs.
At our house, the ham is usually the big event first.
Once the ham comes out?
THE REAL ESTATE OPENS UP.
Now I can start rotating casseroles through.
Which ones use similar temperatures?
What can bake together?
What needs to come out right before dinner?
What can come out earlier and hold just fine?
And the rolls?
Those babies go in when everything else is coming out.
They’re quick, and I want them warm.
Your oven schedule doesn’t need to look like mine.
It just needs to exist.
Do the math Wednesday night instead of Thanksgiving morning when you’re holding a casserole in each hand and hollering,
“WHAT TEMPERATURE DOES THIS ONE NEED?!”
The oven has a schedule, babycakes.
Everybody wait your turn.
Thanksgiving Morning: Make It Pretty—But Make It Easy
My Mamaw used beautiful white linens.
And hunnies, they were beautiful.
There is something timeless about a Thanksgiving table dressed in white linen.
I love it.
I use…
craft paper.
Roll that baby right across the table.
If you’re artistic, doodle on it.
If you’ve got kids, let them doodle on it or have guests write what they are thankful for.
Or leave it alone.
Then I add a few real mini pumpkins, some fresh greenery or flowers and a few tea lights.
I’m telling you:
Fresh flowers or greenery make a difference.
It doesn’t have to be some enormous expensive centerpiece.
A little greenery down the middle.
A few pumpkins.
A little candlelight.
Suddenly that brown craft paper looks like we had a PLAN.
And after dinner?
Roll her up.
Goodbye.
I use craft paper on the buffet or counter too.
Which brings me to another Mamaw-meets-Jane situation.
Put the Food on the Buffet and the People at the Table
Sometimes we need more than one table for Thanksgiving.
So I’m not using half of that precious table space for casserole dishes.
The food goes on the buffet.
The people go at the table.
Grab a plate.
Fix what you want.
Go sit down.
I’d rather have room for one more person than one more serving bowl.
Before Everybody Arrives: Put the Special Things Away
We talked about this in the Thanksgiving Cleaning Menu, but it bears repeating.
Before company arrives, put away anything you’d be heartbroken to see broken, damaged or lost.
When my son was younger, I’d let him choose special things he wanted tucked safely away before other kids came over.
Maybe it was sentimental.
Maybe it was fragile.
Maybe he simply wasn’t ready to share it.
That’s okay.
Same goes for the grown-up stuff.
If Grandma’s something-or-other has survived three generations, Thanksgiving probably isn’t the day to test its durability.
Put it somewhere safe.
Good hospitality does not require nervously watching your guests around the things you love.
Now we can open the door and actually relax.
Give Everybody a Little Something While They Wait
People arrive.
They smell Thanksgiving dinner.
And suddenly everybody behaves like they haven’t eaten since 1987.
So I like a few simple appetizers.
Simple is the important word.
We’re knocking the hunger off.
We’re not serving Thanksgiving Dinner: The Prequel.
Deviled eggs.
Shrimp cocktail.
A cute little charcuterie situation.
Something cranberry-and-brie.
Enough to nibble.
Not enough to ruin dinner.
I also like doing an apple-cider variation of a mocktail, and I tend to change it every year.
I’ll put this year’s version in The Recipe Box when I decide what we’re drinking.
Tell Whoever Is Saying Grace BEFORE Everybody Is Staring at Them
Tiny hosting tip.
Big difference.
Choose whoever is going to bless the food ahead of time.
And tell them.
Give that person a chance to gather their thoughts and prayers.
Do not wait until everybody is standing around the food hungry and announce:
“UNCLE, YOU WANNA SAY GRACE?”
Poor Uncle.
Give the man a minute.
SIT DOWN
This is why we did all of it.
The menu was planned.
The groceries were bought.
The onions were chopped.
The casseroles were assembled.
The oven had a schedule.
The table was ready.
The food is out.
SIT. DOWN.
Have Thanksgiving.
Talk to your family.
Eat your sister-in-law’s iconic mashed potatoes.
Have some Signature Jane sweet potato casserole.
Tell your husband his ham is legendary even though he already knows.
Drink your cider.
Have another helping.
Listen to the stories you’ve heard 37 times.
Be there.
There is absolutely no prize for hosting Thanksgiving beautifully and missing the entire thing because you never left the kitchen.
And Let Grandpa Have His Dessert
At our house, desserts get their own table.
And they stay out.
Because my grandfather likes dessert with his savory food.
Who am I to interfere?
Some people want pie after dinner.
Some people apparently believe pie belongs beside the turkey.
Thanksgiving is not the day I’m establishing dessert law.
The desserts have a table.
Grandpa knows where they are.
Govern yourselves accordingly.
Somebody Wants to Help Clean Up?
HUNNIES.
SAY YES.
I know that hospitality reflex.
Oh no, honey. You sit down. I’ve got it.
Nope.
If somebody genuinely offers to help?
Let them.
Load the dishwasher.
Gather plates.
Put lids on leftovers.
Wipe the counters.
Take out the trash.
There are plenty of jobs.
You already planned, shopped, prepped, cooked and hosted.
There are no extra Mamaw points awarded for refusing help and standing alone at the kitchen sink after everybody else has gone home.
Before They Leave, Feed Them Again
Remember all those cheap containers we gathered in Part One?
This is their moment.
Grab the disposable pans.
Grab the dollar-store containers.
Grab Mamaw’s carefully saved sour cream tubs.
Send the leftovers home.
You liked the turkey?
Take some.
Want sweet potato casserole tomorrow?
Babycakes, let me get you a scoop.
Take some ham.
Take a piece of pie.
Take enough for lunch.
Food doesn’t just sit in our houses.
It travels between people.
We feed people when they come through the door.
And if there’s plenty left?
We feed them again when they leave.
What Jane Reckons
My Thanksgiving doesn’t look exactly like my Mamaws’ Thanksgivings.
They had beautiful white linens.
I have craft paper.
Mamaw may have thought asking somebody to bring mashed potatoes was a sin.
I know when I’ve been beaten by an iconic potato.
Mamaw saved butter tubs.
I might hit the dollar store.
Some of the recipes on my table have been passed down for generations.
Some are mine.
Some came from a stranger on Pinterest who will never know she became part of our Thanksgiving.
But I reckon the important parts haven’t changed much at all.
Plan ahead.
Make plenty.
Make it feel special.
Let people help.
Make room at the table.
Feed your people.
And don’t get so busy hosting Thanksgiving that you forget to have Thanksgiving.
Years from now, I don’t think anybody’s going to remember whether I used white linen or brown craft paper.
But I hope they remember there was a place for them.
I hope they remember there was plenty to eat.
I hope they remember they were welcome to stay.
And when it was finally time to go?
Babycakes, take you a plate.
Download Part 2’s Checklist
— Jane
Grace for the mess. Grit for the rest.
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