An Exotic Holiday Recipe Guide

As the seasons change and the dark, cold, rainy weather returns once again, we approach a traditional time of family, community and togetherness. In that spirit, we would like to offer you some of the finest recipes for your family gatherings. Events like these can be joyous and celebratory, but also stressful— and, what better way to relieve that stress, than through copious amounts of food and drink? There’s nothing like a trip to the emergency room, after dad cuts part of his finger off while carving the turkey during a contentious political dispute, to unite us.

Aunt Jean’s Perfect Stuffing

* 2 cups plain breadcrumbs.

* 1/2 cup poorly veiled disappointment that you’re not going to college.

* 6 tablespoons of embarrassed silence, after your girlfriend tells you she found a drawer filled with sex toys in your parent’s bathroom.

* 1 cup of choked-down bile, after Aunt Linda brings up her vitriolic hatred of (insert minority group here).

* 3 teaspoons of either dread or relief (optional), when dad reveals he’s brought whiskey. Mix until you can erase the image of walking in on Uncle Mike masturbating into the vacuum cleaner— cigarette hanging from his mouth, whispering dirty things to it, as he sits perched on the edge of the bed.

Serve warm.

Hearty Vegetable Stew

* 3 cups chicken stock (no, wait, Monica’s vegetarian now).

* 2 whole hours of uncomfortable conversation about what you’re going to do with your life.

* 6 backhanded compliments about your new girlfriend’s weird tattoos.

* 3/4 cup seething resentment that your cousin Joe can’t even show up to dinner sober.

* 1 teaspoon cumin.

* 8 lbs. of your teenage sister’s unwanted infant, who won’t stop screaming all evening.

Simmer stock with chopped ingredients, as you stand over the pot, stirring as slowly as possible, so you don’t have to go back out there and deal with Joe, who’s now drunkenly spewing mashed potatoes, as he yells at his third wife Vivian about her liberal snowflake mother and how he’ll take his red, white and blue Hummer and run down every long-haired protester who tries to tell him that Trump isn’t qualified to be president. Salt and pepper to taste.

Uncle Tony’s Spiced Rum Loaf

* 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour.

* No, wait Monica’s got a gluten allergy.

Now that Joe’s loaded, it’s time to catch up. Just stay in the kitchen with the stew, nursing the bottle of rum and growing quietly more irritated as you hear Monica loudly ranting about how Bernie could still win.

Grandma Pearl’s Glazed Ham

* One 12 lb. ham bought from your local butcher.

* One shrieking, pre-pubescent teenage cousin throwing his Playstation controller through the window when the internet connection goes out in the middle of his Fortnite game.

* 5-6 obnoxiously liberal (including not one, but two Hillary) bumper stickers on your sister’s powder blue Prius.

* 2 hard eye rolls, followed by a disapprovingly sharp sigh from Grandma Pearl, when Grandpa Al starts going on (like he does every damn year), about the "souvenirs" he took off the bodies of the Nazis he killed, while the grandkids sit staring on in rapt attention.

* 3 tablespoons butter (careful not to use the THC butter this time).

Bake at 350F until you’ve all forgotten about it and the oven catches on fire.

Monica’s Gluten-Free, Vegan, Low Sodium, Low Fat Casserole That Only She’ll Eat Any Of

* 45 minutes of Monica trying to explain why veganism is the only socially responsible diet.

* 2 cups of bongwater that her fucking boyfriend spilled on your bedroom carpet.

* 2 spices you’ve never heard of, that can only be purchased at New Seasons and cost more than cocaine.

* 3 pinches of your singed nose hairs, after her boyfriend stretches his arms next to you. Dear God.

* 2 1/2 cups of tolerant silence, as she explains why "food is political" and Thanksgiving dinner is just a way to celebrate the dominance of the white man and his cultural appropriation of native peoples.

* 1/2 cup of Quinoa, because she puts that shit in everything. Bake at 375 F for however long it takes for her and her boyfriend to get stoned enough, that they stop trying to convince everyone that the Free Tibet movement is still relevant.

Traditional Pumpkin Pie

* 14 generous pinches of awkward conversation with Jimmy, the cousin who’s in prison, that for some reason your aunt feels the need to put on speakerphone with the family every year, as she retreats into the hallway to weep softly.

* One pie shell.

* 2 tablespoons of drunken overshare from Mom. Things you REALLY didn’t want to know.

* 5 tablespoons of tense conversation that leads to a drunken, shirtless brawl between dad and Joe, because they can’t agree about the Colin Kaepernick thing.

* 2 teaspoon cinnamon.

* 10 heartfelt apologies as you try to jimmy open the bathroom door, while your girlfriend threatens between sobs to cut herself because you "liked" an ex’s picture on Facebook, and your grandma needs to pee.

Bake at 425F while you surreptitiously try to feed the dog your share of Monica’s Casserole, but he’s not having any of that shit. Reduce heat to 350F before you sneak outside for a joint.

Every holiday season starts with a sense of hope, optimism, and togetherness; but invariably ends with wondering how you could get away with premeditated murder, and a total inability to understand why tradition forces you to spend even one more fucking second with Monica and her revolving door of dreadlock- sporting, braindead, man-child boyfriends.

Ultimately, we must all ask ourselves if we actually want to pull into that driveway, or just turn around, go home and get drunk alone.