Thanksgiving à la Bean

Newsflash:  Sissy Bean recently moved back to town with her boyfriend Buzz.  The West Virginia winters had started to become a drag.  Sissy is the youngest of the three Bean girls.  Her nickname is Zoro.  She’s kind of like Papa’s dog Rooster—she leaves her mark.

Thanksgiving à la Bean: installment one

Thanksgiving dawned bright and early with a roar from Papa.  Actually, it wasn’t too early—about 8 a.m.  It seems that Moose had been messing with Papa’s clock again, so the 5 a.m. wake-up never came and the turkey was still in the refrigerator.

From what I could gather, three turkeys had been purchased by members of the Bean clan, namely Papa, Mimi, and Sissy.  I don’t know nuthin about cookin no turkey, but I know if Mimi was cooking a turkey, it meant that she was mistrustful of Papa’s bird-cooking abilities.

By the time I stumbled out of the bitch boudoir at 8:30, Papa had his turkey in the oven and the carrots slow cooking in a deep cast iron skillet in a lot of butter, and he was peeling potatoes.  Hyacinth was high on anticipation.  Thanksgiving is her favorite holiday.

And then there was poor Rooster who was shaking like a leaf.  We have a gas oven at Maison Bean, and Rooster thinks the house is going to catch on fire.  He’s a sensitive little thing, and Papa had to give him doggie valium.

Mimi arrived with angel biscuits, a pumpkin pie, oyster stuffing, a salad of mixed greens and a turkey.  Sissy and Buzz arrived with pecan pie, traditional stuffing and turkey.

And then Belle arrived all fresh from an AA meeting … with a cast on her foot.  Belle has the Bean foot curse, and she’d recently gone under the knife.

Belle is high maintenance.  If she’s not drinking, nobody else is supposed to be drinking.

The dining room was not a Martha Stewart vision.  Moose sat perched in his hand-me-down high chair.  Jax, Papa, Buzz, Sissy and Thomas Black sat around the dining room table.  Mimi and I sat at the kiddie table.  And Belle sat in an easy chair that we drug in from the living room with her foot propped up on an ottoman.

Despite the strange setup and the clandestine booze, dinner was divine, and everyone was happy, content and well behaved.  I think it had something to do with the tryptophans we were getting in all of that turkey.

It was Black Friday that was cursed.

And that’s all, folks, until the next installment….