Recipe for disaster (or triumph)

Three hours ago, I decided I was going to make Thanksgiving dinner from scratch. Not just the turkey – everything. Stuffing, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, the works. Jake looked at me like I’d announced I was climbing Everest barefoot.

Recipe for disaster (or triumph)

I’ve been living off protein bars and salads for so long that I forgot cooking actual meals requires more than one burner and definitely more counter space than we have. The turkey’s been in the oven for two hours and I’m pretty sure it’s either going to be completely raw or charcoal. Meanwhile, I’ve got three pots going, flour in my hair, and I just realized I never actually made cranberry sauce before in my life.

Jake keeps walking by the kitchen with this amused expression, occasionally asking if I need help. I keep saying no because this is my experiment, my challenge. But honestly? The man’s probably going to end up saving Thanksgiving when I inevitably set something on fire.

The exact moment I realized I was in over my head.

The crazy part is, even if this whole meal turns out to be a complete disaster, I’m actually having fun. There’s something satisfying about tackling something completely outside my wheelhouse. Win or lose, at least we’ll have a good story to tell.