Don't Cry Over Spilled Greens
Collard greens aren’t for random days. It’s a special occasion vegetable. It’s a “heart and soul” side dish. It’s so serious that… you don’t follow a recipe, the measurements come from within! Collard greens are not only delicious, but they are the epitome of love because of the time and effort that is put into them. Collards are hand-picked with scrutiny, rolled, cut, and washed meticulously. They are then seasoned deliberately and gradually, while simmered to the right soft/crunch ratio. If you have collard greens at your family function, someone loves you. They could’ve signed up for the green bean casserole, but they didn’t. They agreed to bring the hard work and LOVE.
This Thanksgiving was no different than every other- I signed up to bring the greens (aka the LOVE). For me (and Varday), this labor of love is an overnight process. So, after many hours of preparation and execution, I am finally packing the car to head to my sister’s house for Thanksgiving dinner. I have pre-warmed the greens, because... LOVE comes ready to serve. That’s just how I roll. And clearly, that’s how my ankle rolls too, because one hasty and uncoordinated walk to the car had my precious pot of greens face down on the back porch. Unsalvageable. I was stuck. Hours and hours of groundwork, and I am now watching collard juices of LOVE drip down the one step of my very modest back stoop. I stood there frozen, re-playing the milli-seconds of time in which I tripped, screamed, and the pot (covered in aluminum foil) slowly descended to its demise. What ARE the laws of gravity, and what are the chances that a pot does not roll, but rather, goes KERPLUNK face down on the ground? DeLea, don’t you dare cry over spilled greens. I. Held. Back. Real. Tears.
This Thanksgiving, there were many firsts. For starters, my back stoop was unexpectedly hosed down #NewStepWhoDis. We had bomb caramel apple martinis, Erika’s family joined us from Pittsburgh, and Darla made some slamming cabbage. At one point, the power went out, and we all broke out into laughter as the babies started screaming and Darla dug around for flashlights. We had one of our best Thanksgivings to date, and not one person cried over (or even thought about) the spilled greens.