It Was a Damn Good Turkey

I did it again, roasted a damn good turkey. The recipe I followed is so simple. Maybe it’s the lemon, apple and onion on the inside that helps keep it so moist. The herb butter sure helps too. Compliments were abound and a toast was made.
We had a full house at the hotel. Only two of the residents were away. Everyone cooked. Jen made the green been casserole with fresh beans and mushrooms, made the cream of mushroom from scratch and real fried onions on the top. She made real cranberry sauce and apple pie. No messing around there.
Don made homemade biscuits and shared his secret. OK, I’ll tell you what it is. Grate frozen butter into the flour mix. Don’s girlfriend joined us, who I had never met. She was a delight.
Jennifer and her boyfriend, John made me smile watching how much they love each other. Jennifer looking at him saying, “your face is so cute, I’m going to eat it.”
We had lots of good conversations and laughs. Most of the residents are young adults. Robert is the oldest, and me next to oldest. Robert went to bed shortly after his two full plates. The others were just gearing up for the night. I was close to pj time but they begged me to come to Charlie B’s with them. Touched, I agreed to come do a walk through, it’s just kiddy corner to the hotel. Charlie B’s like the hotel has not changed much since I frequented it back in the 80’s. It was previously Eddie’s Bar until 1981, where Lee Nye bartended and photographed his regular customers. His black and white portraits line the walls. Tucked in the back is the Dinosaur Cafe serving up pretty authentic cajun dishes, po’boys, jambalaya and gumbo.
My stay at Charlie’s was short and sweet. It was time for bed and back to the very sweet dog, Buzz, I am staying with for a month. He was our guest of honor for Thanksgiving. He is a committed companion, up for most anything. The past four days he has even joined me in cleaning my friend, Ann’s airbnb, taking breaks for a walk along the Clark Fork river.
If you ever need a place to stay in Missoula, check out Ann’s airbnb. She’s a thrifter and lover of antiques. I love caring for her place.
Buzz and I are headed out to clean for the last time on this stint. I have much preferred taking Buzz for walks closer to town. A mama grizzly bear and her two cubs have been spotted up where I am pet sitting Buzz. She’s been getting into garbage and the like. I am hoping she moves along so she and her cubs have a good long life.
Thanks for reading. More hotel adventures to come.

Meet Some of My Unexpected Family

My new room with a silver ceiling had a loft bed that I decided to use for storage, not wanting to go up and down the ladder each time I had to use the bathroom.  I bought a twin bed, hung twinkle lights and my star light from the ceiling, arranged books on the shelves, set up a writing desk, put my half & half in the frig and I was home.

Winter was coming in Montana, and I couldn’t wait. Eugene held my dear friends, but it didn’t hold my heart, Montana has since I came to visit my brother in the 80’s. 

My cocoon of a room had all I needed. Covid times have not been social times. But for me, social times began to slip away in 2017 as I began to grieve the loss of my relationship with my daughter and grandchildren. Now that the rest of the world had joined me in isolation, I felt a comfort that felt unfair because the rest of the world was now grieving. 

Slowly but surely, I meet the other residents of this historic hotel. With Covid protocol, residents mainly kept to themselves in their rooms, a twist from its history.  Back when Robert acquired the building some forty years ago, bohemians inhabited the rooms, art was created, and parties thrown. Friends who are long time Missoula residents have said to me with a laugh, “oh yea, I remember the parties at the hotel.” Surprisingly, I didn’t attend parties at the hotel during the 80’s but I was certainly at other parties, after waiting tables then out dancing. 

Completed in 1902, it was bustling with a restaurant, and saloon on the main floor. Rooms were rented for 75 cents by railroad passengers and workers. It’s been said it was a brothel at one time. With travelers and a saloon downstairs makes sense. 

The extend of socializing when I moved in was meeting in the kitchen while preparing a meal. Jennifer, lived in the room next to me. We’d chat as hot water ran through the cone for morning coffee. Sleepy eyed, she told me about her work at a peach orchard, her love for plants and her boyfriend. Eventually, she shared about her conflictual relationship with her mother, but how she was committed to loving her. Of course, I commended her for this commitment. On her 30th birthday, Jennifer, proudly showed me the presents her boyfriend had given her; a plant and an apron he had sewn himself. 

John, lives at the far end of the hall in the biggest room at the hotel. It even has its own bathroom. He’s around 30 years old, works for the forest service Bless his heart, he tries to keep everyone in line, leaving notes on the white board, reminding everyone to lock the doors, shared stats on daily Covid deaths. He’s a sweetheart but I wish for his sake he didn’t worry so much. 

Sam, what a sweetie. He’s early twenties, in school and works for the forest service. He’s from Virginia. His room is small, and he is a growing boy, so we’d end up together in the kitchen mornings and evenings. We talk food, the South, it’s history, the why of it all and how can we bring justice to this world. As I cooked pancakes for the two of us, he said, “man you remind me of my grandmother” Well shit, he had won my heart! 

The common areas weren’t and aren’t as clean as I care for. It doesn’t seem to bother the others too much. They are young, in school, working, and keeping a social life such as it is. After a few weeks, I was able to rally Jennifer, John and Sam to deep clean the 3rd floor kitchen. Jennifer tackled the refrigerator, pine soled the ceiling light fixtures that had years of dirt of them, Sam scrubbed the oven, John and I threw out items in the cupboard that were, yes, years expired, plastic lids with no bottoms. Counters were scrubbed and the floor swept and mopped it. It felt good and I got to know my fellow roomies a little more. I learned that Jennifer and John had never heard of Walt Whitman nor Leaves of Grass. I remedied that at my next visit to the 2nd hand bookstore. 

 Charles, who doesn’t leave his room much, stopped me in hall one day, “hey, would you roast us a turkey for Thanksgiving? My work is giving me a free turkey.” “Sure” I replied. I started my internet search for how to roast a turkey, it had been a few years. I asked Robert what he would like to have served at our Thanksgiving meal? He put in his request and meal planning began. 

Cheese grits

I’m in gratitude for the smoothness of my journey so far. Made it Eugene which holds an amazing group of friends and love. Walked into my friend Cathy’s house late afternoon yesterday greeted by her newest boxer rescue, Morgan. He and I became immediate friends as he handed me his ball to toss. Her house holds familiar smells and layout that feels like home. Morgan and I will hold down the fort while she is away for the holiday. Gathering with dear friends at 3:00 this afternoon for turkey and fixings. For now drinking coffee and getting a glimpse of  the 91st Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade. Have plenty of time to relax and cook cheese garlic grits.

Modified Cheese Garlic Grits
From Southern Sideboards Cookbook