.....it's the people who come to eat it that stress me out. Relatives who live nearby who you only see once or twice yearly. Mine happen to be devout Christians meaning they hate other Christians who don't attend their particular church. Obviously I'm not in their "in-crowd". They have 6 kids ranging from 5 to 21. The alpha male child prodigy is a dick ad allowed to run ram shod over the others. There's always a spat or two to look forward to as well as him rifling the olives out of the salad. Then there's the vegetarian daughter who, though very nice, is the only non predator of the lot. Then there's the unexpected guests. That's right they always show up with more people than is in their immediate family. They're used to stretching meals because there's always extra people around their house. So they think nothing of dragging along anyone visiting with them at the time. Yeah I can stretch food. In fact I plan on extra anymore. But there's no place for these extras to sit and they're sorta hard to bring into the fold of family conversation. Despite the fact that 3 other normal families attend the meal no one can drink alcohol because the Christian zealots are here. Those who dare to imbibe get off ward glances and snide commentary. That's why I always reach for the bottle. They're my wife's relatives and I just plain don't care.

Nope cooking is fun and easy. A 24 pound bird, brined and braised until it falls off the bone. Casseroles, mashed taters, gravy, rolls, salad, pies a cornucopia of mouth watering nummies all prepared by me. If only the numbskulls lived on a different planet.

I feel your pain. There's a solution to your alcohol problem, though.

Try this. Stock up on wine. Let everyone know it will be on the table. Tell them that those that want some are welcome to it, those that don't can have water. Then let them all know that the first complainer never gets another invitation. This is your house. You don't need to follow the "rules" of anyone who isn't on the mortgage.

We just had a discussion on the DP Fray about this. I figure that if a relative or hanger-on is someone that I would normally cross the street to avoid, they aren't allowed in my home and I don't give a rat's a$$ if they're family.

You could just let everyone know that dinner next year will be formal. Only those with invitations that specifically have their names on them will be allowed in the door.

If your wife doesn't want to do these things, then all I can suggest for you is a plane ticket to a city with amazing restaurants. Then you could dine out to your heart's content and shamelessly steal tasty ideas for next year, when everyone has come to their senses...

Thank you Messy One for your suggestions. Much as I dread the brother-n-law's jumbo family from sanctity land I also recognize the conundrum of keeping my happy home along with juggling such interactions. Basically I can only push things so far. To be more clear the manners of these fine folks are more of a joke even though they present an expected maelstrom each T-day. They leave us with a years worth of laughter once they're gone. I just have make certain the kids don't bust up the place while they're here.

Good news, of sorts. T-day came and went and yessir we had the Christian hoards over for the feast. Yep they brought an unexpected guest. The older girl brought her boyfriend a young Marine. No problem I made loads of food. Best news, the male child prodigy had just this day broken his collar bone playing tackle football, where else, at church. He was cinched up like a steer at a rodeo and gorked out on vicodin. No fights this year. What a relief. 25 people fat and fed and out the door by 5 P.M. WA HOOOOOOO!!!!

Better living through chemistry! You should patent this - instead of feeding the cook Prozac, feed the guests tranquilizers. One of The Boy's solutions was to tell the kids you were making "special" slushie drinks and hand out weak Margaritas... I'm betting the young Marine was at least polite.

We aren't doing the dinner until today, so yesterday there was the "day of prep" when my friend and I chopped stuff and plopped it all in the cooler, made the butternut squash soup and the chutney, etc. etc. It took us about 5 hours to get everything ready. The only thing left is to slice 2 1/2 pounds of shallots, but all we need to do is peel them, the food processor will take care of the rest.

The Boy was not permitted in the kitchen until after we were done and cleaned up, he was in charge of dessert, a cranberry almond crostata.

Today, he's to help while I'm at the gym and is instructed to say only "Yes, chef". He is not to do anything else, because he tends to get a bit anal and cranky when he's cooking. We've put him in charge of the wine.

I'll let you know if we survived this tomorrow...