I am going to come right out and say it: a meal that consists of what is essentially an oversized chicken and five kinds of starches is not worth two days in the kitchen no matter how much tradition is behind it.
But there is no stopping Mr. Kamikaze on Thanksgiving.
If I were a better wife, I could be a good sport about it. But something about watching the kitchen disappear under clouds of flour dust, grease and the rising steam from a stewpot full of turkey parts no one would ever consider eating just makes me cranky.
He looks at me as if I have just suggested that his signature Italian cream cake is too heavy to serve on top of a meal that is essentially an oversized chicken and five kinds of starches.
"Don't you think Italian cream cake is a little bit much after such a starchy meal?" I ask. I am only trying to be helpful.
"Everyone loves Italian cream cake," he says, completely missing the point.
"What about doing something different with the sweet potatoes?" I say. "I have a recipe for roasted sweet potato and orzo salad."
"It's tradition," he says.
Like the Indians had marshmallows.
And so we compromise. I will make sweet potato and orzo salad. "Nobody is going to eat that," says Mr. Kamikaze. Then I will stay out of the kitchen drinking wine and eating olives.
Photo: "Nobody is going to eat that."