This year for Thanksgiving, we had Chris’ sister, brother in law and our nephews here for dinner.  The stress of several days’ worth of extreme cleaning was mitigated by the fact that our 18 year old nephew cooked the entire dinner. From scratch.

He cooked the 18.5 pound turkey that Chris got free from work in one of those Reynold’s Oven Bags, inside our electric roaster. He rubbed the turkey with melted butter, poultry seasoning, and salt first, then it cooked for about 4 hours. I was very skeptical of the oven bag method, having never done it before. I was sure the turkey would still be pale when it was done but much to my surprise, it did turn brown. And fell apart. I barely got a photo before it was sliced, plattered, and served up. Here’s Chris while carving:

Our nephew also made homemade rolls. As in, from yeast and water and flour and I don’t know, the pillows angels sleep on or something. I was in the living room grumbling about how crappy the Macy’s Day Parade was (seriously. ENOUGH with the freaking Broadway  performances, I want to see SNOOPY, dammit) so I didn’t see what he did exactly, but somehow he turned a bowl of dough into huge, pillowy on the inside, chewy on the outside dinner rolls that rivaled any I’ve had at any restaurant.

(I made him put that apron on for the picture, like any 18 year old man, he could have cared less if he was getting his shirt messy while cooking.)

I didn’t get a photo of it, but he also made homemade cranberry sauce, like from fresh cranberries and everything.  Chris’ sister made the candied yams and his brother in law did the mashed potatoes, which just left one thing – dessert.

People, my 18 year old nephew made a from-scratch Granny Smith Apple pie with a topping he came up with on the spot.  The recipe he used called for mixing the sliced apples with a flour-sugar-spices-butter mixture which he mixed up before he peeled the apples. After he sprinkled a bunch of it over the apples, he had some left over. So, here’s what he did…

He put the top crust on and pressed it down over the apples. Then he sprinkled the rest of the flour-sugar-spices-butter mixture on the TOP of the pie, and baked it. When it came out of the oven, it was the prettiest apple pie I’d ever seen:

But the looks had nothing on the TASTE. Oh, my friends, you cannot imagine the deliciousness of this pie. I would eat it hot, cold, with ice cream, with whipped cream, in a box, with a fox, in the rain, on a train…

We told him he’s hired forever. From now on, he’s welcome to make Thanksgiving dinner every year. As long as he makes that pie.

HOW WAS YOUR THANKSGIVING??