I'm hosting Thanksgiving dinner at my house again this year. Twenty-some people will be at my house, each with a dish to share, and I'm happy that I have a house big enough for everyone to fit comfortably.
It wasn't always like that. Before moving last year, my house was a teensy tiny little thing. We crammed everyone in anyway - the more the merrier being our constant theme - and made the best of people sitting in every square foot of available space.
A few years back, The Hubster got the grand idea that he would cook the turkey on the grill. We have a great Weber gas grill that we got as a wedding present and later bought the rotisserie attachment because, quite simply, it makes roasts amazing.
If you know me and my family, you can guess that lots of guests + hunger + The Hubster's grand ideas = something going awry. So imagine its almost time to eat. Our extended family and assorted stray guests have wedged themselves onto the couch, around our dining room table and onto every folding chair we own. They've eaten up nearly all the appetizers and made a serious dent in the beer and wine selection.
Suddenly, The Hubster makes a mad dash for the back door. Curious as to where he might be going so close to dinner time, I look out the kitchen window.
There are flames shooting out the sides of our grill.
He opens the cover and WHOOSH! Fireball.
Oh holy hell. What in God's name did he DO?!?!
Somehow, it occurs to me that joining him outside would only 1) make me cold and 2) put me in harm's way so I stay put. I, apparently, did not feel I would be a good resource in the event of a fire or an exploding grill.
After shutting the grill off, he runs back inside, quietly urging, "GRAB BAKING SODA. NOW."
I think he found it before I could close my mouth and remember what baking soda was. He ran out and extinguished the rest of the flames without coating the turkey in baking soda saltiness. Essentially what happened was that the bird was so big that it wouldn't turn properly, and it dripped so much grease that it started a grease fire, singeing the wings to the point of un-edibleness.
Needless to say we finished cooking that bad boy in the oven. Surprisingly? No one else noticed the fire.
Just goes to show ya what enough beer and football will do.
Hope you all have a great and safe Thanksgiving!