Between Joy of Cooking and a deal made with a sabretooth tiger, Sallie has a lot of work cut out for her. Beyond the turkey, she tries to stay as much as possible with ingredients that she has access to on Shadow - Sallie is too well known for her hospitality in her kitchen to not require contingencies if an employee walks in to find her with a bird far bigger than any chicken to grace the district.
What bothers Sallie as she is rolling out the pie crust -- pumpkin is a thing she's never thought to try as a pie -- is the utter lack of appropriate holiday decoration for this...Thanksgiving. Every decent holiday in the 'verse had decorations. Maybe Thanksgiving got ignored with it being so close to Christmas? Hmm. Something to ponder.
The main problem Sallie has with the experience of cooking dinner like this is the pre-planning: nearly four hours for the turkey, the time for the pie crust, then the pie, stuffing...Sallie cheats on the rolls, acquiring some from the bar.
That, and the cranberry sauce. I. Hate. Cranberry Sauce, Sallie decides, chucking the half-gelled attempt at making some fresh.
When Sallie finally looks up at the clock, she realizes how late it has gotten and sets to making up the (new-ish) dining table. Food set out (and rolls warmed in the oven), Sallie changes into a skirt that doesn't look like she had been hauling ass all day. Bounding as only sixty-something ladies do down the stairs from her room, Sallie climbs into her own pantry, leaning into the door to Milliways and calling out, "Winchesters! If you want cranberry sauce, ask for it from the bar!"
What bothers Sallie as she is rolling out the pie crust -- pumpkin is a thing she's never thought to try as a pie -- is the utter lack of appropriate holiday decoration for this...Thanksgiving. Every decent holiday in the 'verse had decorations. Maybe Thanksgiving got ignored with it being so close to Christmas? Hmm. Something to ponder.
The main problem Sallie has with the experience of cooking dinner like this is the pre-planning: nearly four hours for the turkey, the time for the pie crust, then the pie, stuffing...Sallie cheats on the rolls, acquiring some from the bar.
That, and the cranberry sauce. I. Hate. Cranberry Sauce, Sallie decides, chucking the half-gelled attempt at making some fresh.
When Sallie finally looks up at the clock, she realizes how late it has gotten and sets to making up the (new-ish) dining table. Food set out (and rolls warmed in the oven), Sallie changes into a skirt that doesn't look like she had been hauling ass all day. Bounding as only sixty-something ladies do down the stairs from her room, Sallie climbs into her own pantry, leaning into the door to Milliways and calling out, "Winchesters! If you want cranberry sauce, ask for it from the bar!"
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