Tuesday, November 22, 2016

Thanksgiving Monkey Bread

I had this beautiful vision of getting up early this morning and making monkey bread for my man to take to work for him and his crew.  I prepped everything last night so I'd have plenty of time this morning.

I planned to share with you about the first time I ever made monkey bread.

The first time I ever heard of monkey bread actually.

We had not even been dating two months and Andrew decided Thanksgiving would be a great time to meet each other's families.  He thought we should do it before things got too serious and while the pressure wasn't there

Ummm..things were already serious for me.

And the pressure?  

Yeah that was there too.

Thanksgiving 2001 was the first time Andrew and my family met.  It was very awkward for me having those two worlds collide.  

It was the first time  and only time I ever brought a boyfriend home to  meet the parents.

Sometimes when I'm driving into Batesville I can still picture his little blue prism sitting at the top of Ramsey Mountain where we met that day.

After we had lunch with my family we left to eat again with his family.

I remember meeting each of his family members in small doses - there are a lot of Weavers. :)

But I'm pretty sure this particular event was not when I met them.  Maybe it was. I don't know.

I know I met his dad in Fayetteville.

My first memories of the rest of the family are all in their house and not at Thanksgiving.

I remember Jill making a joke about what seven years of marriage looks like.

I remember all the women in the kitchen cooking together and laughing.

A scene you still find today if you attended a Weaver meal.

Only there are more women in the kitchen now. :)

Anyways.

Back to the monkey bread.

I wanted to take something to add to the Thanksgiving meal.

Now keep in mind I was not a cook back then.

Oh wait.

I'm still not a cook.

When I asked Andrew what I should bring, he said without any hesitation "monkey bread"

I had no idea what that was, but I smiled and said yes.

My momma found me a recipe in a cookbook.

There was no Pinterest back then.

I followed the recipe and made monkey bread, though I had no idea if it was fit to eat.

We drove to Grandma Weaver's house.  I remember feeling like we were driving to the middle of nowhere.

It was a tiny house CRAMMED with people.

Aunt, Uncles, Cousins, everyone....

Andrew and I fixed our plates and weaved through the house and found a spot to sit in the back of the house.

I have no idea how everything was set up that day, but in my mind every single room of that house was filled with tables and chairs.  

I took my monkey bread that day and everyone said it was delicious.

I didn't have any of it myself so I don't know if it really was good or if they were just being kind to the new girl.

Monkey bread may be a weird thing to take to a Thanksgiving meal, but it is what my man requested.

So now once a year  around Thanksgiving or Christmas I make him some monkey bread to take to work.

Today was supposed to be that day.

I followed the recipe just like I did back in 2001, but today it didn't not turn out.

My biscuits just would not cook.

He had to leave for work before it was done.

I gave him a kiss and told him to go buy him and his crew some chicken biscuits from Chick-Fil-A and tell them all I said Happy Thanksgiving.

I told you I'm still not a cook. :)

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