Are we ever really finished uploading the celestial orb? Can life become so ornately disorganized that we forget to download our distress and trust in the almighty — the leftover Thanksgiving, fight for it, wake up in the middle of the night and find it, warm it for one minute in the microwave, get me some vanilla Breyer’s ice cream, forget the fork — I’ll use my fingers, the one and only, most important of all
last piece of
PIE?
We had pecan pie. We had Tar Heel pie. We had cinnamon scones for breakfast. We had sweet ‘taters with pecan crunchy topping. We had a spiral cut ham from Fresh Market. We brined a turkey à la Alton Brown recipe. Smashed potatoes with an entire stick of butter and some whipping cream mixed into it. Ubiquitous green bean casserole. Cranberry relish. Scratch yeast rolls. Cornbread — the sour cream kind. Bourbon sugar glaze pecans for nibbling…
It is my favorite day. An American holiday centered around food. Eating. Just a day of eating. And most of the family except the Mathematical One Who Must Remain Afar. She will return to the fold soon enough.
So, for the day, at least, Assemblage means the chemical properties of flour when mixed with egg, of salt and poultry… and family. Some of it.
