We were all really looking forward to Thanksgiving. Blue’s Western Restaurant was advertising* an “authentic home-style Thanksgiving dinner,” and the prospect of turkey, mashed potatoes, and cranberry sauce – oh, god, cranberry sauce! – was just too tempting to resist.
So we all met up – Adam, Ben, Blake, Daniel, Natasha, and I – at Blue’s around 9, planning to tuck in to a traditional, roast-beef-mashed-potatoes-gravy-no-bullshit dinner. After all, it was a western restaurant, and our friends had said it was good, and we were paying a lot of money.
I got there late and joined the others, who were eating a tomato and onion soup which – while not part of the Thanksgiving dinners I’d eaten – was pretty good. Then a salad came out, which was kind of small, but again, pretty good.
Meanwhile, we were drinking traditional Thanksgiving Russian vodka and assorted fruit jiuces. Five bottles of it were lined up on the table – two and a half were gone by the time I got there – and next to them was one pitcher of mango juice and one pitcher of something which tasted like Dimetapp but was probably once grape juice.
Then the main course came out: one (1) ball of carrot, one (1) brussels sprout, twenty (20) kernels of corn, and three (3) slices of a turkey which must have been a stupendous badass in life, because there was no tenderness whatsoever to be had in it. No mashed potatoes*, and small pots of gravy and a cranberry sauce which bore a striking resemblance to the grape juice we were mixing with our vodka.
Well, OK. Whatever. There was still pumpkin pie on the way – they’d advertised that – and pumpkin pie was always good. The waiters brought out plates with slices of pie on them, and seen from a distance, the pie looked promising – a nice thick honey-graham crust and an orange filling.
The more conscientious among us were no doubt relieved to discover that no actual pumpkins had been harmed in the making of our pies. Instead, the filling consisted of shreds of something unidentifiable and orange suspended in what looked and tasted like frozen Crisco.
Thanksgiving with Crisco and vodka — just like the Indians!*
Anyway, it was an all-Blue’s evening, as we finished our traditional Thanksgiving dinners at Blue’s Western Restaurant and proceeded to Blue’s Kiss Disco for traditional Thanksgiving revelry.*
(…to be continued…)