we feasted proper

sweet vermouth, angostura bitters, bourbon; proper manhattans

segura viuda dry spanish cava

la turre, a soft rind triple cream french cheese

humboldt fog, a chevre/brie cut with a vein of ash

aged gouda, glassy and brittle

arbequina olives

casteveldrano olives

fig jam

sea salt and water crackers

mer soleil, a butter y oaky chardonnahy

puff pastry cheese straws

turkey rubbed under the skin with a compound butter (sage, thyme) drizzled with olive oil and rubbed with sea salt, perched on a bed of quartered onions, stock drunk with sherry, turkey necks and parsnips,  and stuffed with torn challah, sweet peppers, translucent onions and a dose of strong garlic,
roasted until burnished and heady

brussels sprouts shredded and fried in a swathe of butter, tossed with a shock of champagne, salt and white pepper

yams and white sweet potatoes, cubed; fried hot in butter infused with rosemary, covered with apple cider and reduced into a glaze and then finished with apple cider vinegar and chili

cauliflower au gratin baked with a slick of yellow butter, blanketed with swiss cheese and cream and baked down into an bubbling, ivory heap

cranberries poached in triple sec and orange zest, stewed with orange rinds and orange flower water and doused with bitters

gravy made from the stock of the turkey, sherry, giblets, red wine and butter

butter lettuce salad with paper thin shreds of green apple and leek sprinkled with balsamic vinegar and garlic so strong and bright the hair on your arms stands up

pumpkin creme caramel baked into mismatched teacups and ramekins with a slick of bitter sugar at the bottom and blanketed with a spoon of unsweetened bourbon whipped cream

peach pie shot with blackberries, lemon, ginger and kirsch

mellow vanilla ice cream flecked with vanilla beans

then, flat on the floor, bellies full, eyes closed, completely, graciously happy.