Acquiring the liquor permit before Thanksgiving was high on my list and my boss and I spent the better part of 3 hours obtaining them the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. The traffic was hell and the line to present the application took an hour. One must enter a small, enclosed office and present a letter from the employer confirming position and income. The application form asked for the usual personal information and oddly enough, there was a line inquiring about religion.
The permit comes with a hideous photo snapped in the tiny office grimly lit with florescent light and one emerges and goes to the other side of the building where after clearing a turnstile, familiar cartons of wine, liquor and beer are immaculately displayed and the music is cranked up to club decibel. There must be behavioral studies demonstrating that after a morose administrative exercise, one is prepared to spend money and will likely spend more in a festive atmosphere. There are no lessons lost on capitalist opportunity here...
While at the checkout, I cracked up at the music, as "Staying Alive" by the Bee Gees was blaring at the very moment that millions of the faithful had made their way to Saudi Arabia for the annual Haj that week despite the global recession and the threat of swine flu, and I was making my first alcohol purchase with a newly minted license - a pilgrimage, indeed.
My cranberry sauce didn't happen at Thanksgiving. I expected the most difficult procurement bit would be the bottle of Pinot Noir my killer recipe requires. Lots of turkeys in the freezer section of several grocery stores but not a cranberry to be found. So my sauce was a hybrid of rhubarb and blackberry, which rocked despite the sourcing adversity.
Shockingly, there's Christmas trim in the stores - about as ugly a representation of cheap ornaments and Santas as I've ever seen, all made in China. There are some sad-looking trees with boxes wrapped underneath. Some shops display handmade ornaments made in Indonesia but they also aren't the best examples and look machine-produced with a touch or two by hand. The British Christmas pudding in a red box has been part of a front display at the expensive grocery store catering to ex-pats since October. The Reese's cups are in the green and red foil. It would be better to abandon these attempts to make the westerners feel at home...after a frankincense facial, I am going to the W for Christmas brunch on Christmas Day. If there's wind, we'll go sailing.
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