We rounded up the usual suspects: turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, butternut squash soup, and slices of raspberry tart and pumpkin pie. While my family secured the perimeters outside, I pulled our car out front. I looked up and down the street one last time before pulling out of the driveway. You can never be too careful when transporting Thanksgiving leftovers home.
My vegetarian daughter startled us the next morning when she requested leftovers for breakfast. She’s had an anti-Thanksgiving stance the last few years because we haven’t made the journey back East to be with family. She also complains that there is nothing for her to eat. How about vegetables? I think her stance this year was softened by the amorous advances of a precious four-year old, who, after dinner, claimed her hand and protected her by delivering body blows to her annoying brother.
We gave our thanks for not having to cook dinner that night and worked our way through the leftovers. As usual, we couldn’t finish the cranberry sauce. The last survivor, it sat forlorn in its bowl, too good to waste and needing a new home, a new purpose in life. Muffins? Quick bread? Oh, is that challah I see before me? Come let me clutch thee! Oops! Wrong play.
I beat three eggs and added leftover challah (about 2 cups, cubed), ½ cup milk, the remaining cranberry sauce (½ cup) and let it soak in the refrigerator overnight. When I woke up, I preheated a 350° oven, warming the kitchen while we waited. A half hour later we had Thanksgiving cranberry sauce strata for breakfast. What will next year bring? The proof is in the pudding.