Yesterday we had Thanksgiving at my sister-in-law's. I offered to bring turnip greens, homemade bread, and black-eyed peas. Donna said she "had everything covered" but I was welcome to bring more anyway.
The cook is never satisfied with his own cooking, and true to form, there were some mishaps in preparation. To begin with, the greens. I couldn't have gotten enough turnip greens without killing everyone in our garden, so I made mixed greens. There lay the rub. Outside of turnips my powers of green identification are spotty at best. I may have substituted broccoli greens or Brussels sprout greens for collards. This was compounded by a recipe that was - let us say - spicy. These are greens which require no pepper sauce.
My bread is a french-bread recipe from the Joy of Cooking, which has been a go-to for decades. Unfortunately, scurrying around Thanksgiving morning, doing last-minute clean up, and arranging for the dog, I let the bread overcook.
The black-eyed peas, however, turned out perfectly. I will stake my reputation on my black-eyed peas.
Anyway, everyone said the bread was wonderful and claimed not to notice or care that it was slightly burned. As for the greens, they maintained a polite silence, except my cousin who said they were tasty.
I'd thought I was being generous to offer to bring something, but I now see Donna was generous to let me bring it. It is wonderful cooking for others - we remember the thanks part of thanksgiving, but the other part - equally if not more delightful - is the giving.
Thank you, Donna, for letting me share.
Cooking is a form of love.