I’m in Rossland, celebrating Thanksgiving with some old friends. We’ve spent the past 48 hours overindulging in food and wine, and there will certainly be more extravagance before we hit the road tomorrow morning.
As I write this, there is an 18-pound turkey roasting away in the oven, stuffed full of herbs and deliciousness. There are two pies cooling on the windowsill (one apple, one pumpkin), the potatoes and brussels sprouts have been prepped, and there are giant turnips waiting to be peeled and braised.
The breakfasts have been quite extraordinary. Yesterday morning we had silver dollar pancakes with stewed cinnamon apples, fresh blueberry sauce, organic maple syrup, and whipped cream. This morning it was handmade rye bread with brie and ripe Bartlett pears, with organic blueberry yogurt, homemade granola and fruit salad. All of it was washed down with strong coffee made in the stovetop espresso maker.
Last night we had company and opened up a bottle of 2006 Sandhill Gamay Noir. I’ve had Sandhill before and liked it, but this was a really nice wine. It’s kind of peppery, with hints of blackberry. Yum.
We’ve also been enjoying D’s pumpkin squares: shortbread crust with a pumpkin pie filling, topped with a cream cheese icing. I’m going to steal the idea and see if I can up the ante a little bit. Also, last night J brought over a spicy eggplant dip that was absolutely lovely: really flavourful and meaty. I managed to steal a little bit of it before it disappeared.
Damn, that turkey smells good.