Normally, if I see that my blog’s view numbers are dwindling day by day, I take it as a sign that I should either post again quickly, or that I should somehow make my life more interesting. Usually it’s the former. But of course, three days ago was that most venerable of American holidays, Thanksgiving. And I’m actually glad that nobody read my blog, because it means you were spending it with your loved ones and eating delicious food or perhaps volunteering to help others in need. That’s good. Reading my blog, however enjoyable and integral to your daily routine, should not take precedence over your personal celebrations.
While I don’t think saying thanks should be limited to one day of the year, Thanksgiving is a nice reminder to all of us how lucky we truly are. There are always things I want, and dreaming about winning the lottery is always fun, but I know that I could have it so much worse. I’ve got a roof over my head and food in the fridge. Though they’re not great, I’ve still got my eyesight and my hearing. My body is relatively healthy and I’ve got friends and family. I’ve got people who read my blog and think I’m fairly interesting. What more do I need?
You know what my favorite part of Thanksgiving dinner is? The turkey bones. Why, you might ask? Because the day after Thanksgiving is the best in my house. My mom takes the bones and puts it in a huge stockpot with water, rice, and spices, and lets it simmer on the stove for hours. The result is called jook in Cantonese, zhou in Mandarin, or congee in English. I’m not really sure where they got the English name from, because it looks and sounds nothing like Chinese. Anyways, congee is a rice porridge that is basically rice and water but can have lots of toppings and spices added. My mom’s turkey congee is the best, and I look forward to this dish more than I do Thanksgiving sometimes! Not being wasteful (i.e. saving the turkey bones) often has the most delicious outcomes.
As a side note: don’t ever cook with old margarine. Have you ever opened a musty wood cabinet that hasn’t been opened for years? That’s what heated old margarine smells like. It doesn’t taste bad, but the smell is quite special. Fortunately, after dumping more rosemary/thyme/sage/pepper/whatever other spice handy into the dish, the smell went away. You might think this is common sense, but my family doesn’t usually eat margarine, so when we buy it for the odd baking job, the amount we don’t use just sits in our fridge. And sits. And sits. Until someone says “Hey, let’s use up that margarine in the fridge!” If there’s anything to be thankful for, be thankful that I sent you that important warning.