As I was whipping our garlic-mashed potatoes, I felt the presence of my dear father who passed away some years ago. He had particular feelings about how potatoes should be mashed and often wanted to take that task upon himself. I know he would not approve of the many cloves of roasted garlic that I added or the sour cream I used instead of milk. And believe me, I would have thrown it all out and started over again if I could have him back at my side. I remember sitting across the kitchen counter as he carved the turkey, always trying to reach in and grab the tastiest tidbit for myself. He and Mom would be gently bickering – a very loving thing. It was usually Dad softly complaining about me being in the way or mom, because the bird was too dry. Typical holiday conversations.
Another "visitor" was my dear Swiss grandmother. Our Thanksgivings together weren’t many but I remember them so strongly in my heart. If there were just a few words that would pertain to her at those times, they would be jello, pie and shrimp salad. Those are the items that I associate with her to this day. She would be over 100 years old now and believe me, she still had most all her noodles (her description!) when she passed away in her sleep at 94!
Today while we attempted to bake our bird in our antique wood cook stove, our thoughts were of Tramp 1’s grandparents. The stove we have used to be theirs and we restored it and have it in our family room where we use it for both heat and cooking. Though both of them passed away when Tramp 1 was just a boy, we know the family lore and think of them so often. They most likely would have had some much-welcomed advice for us as we added wood and more wood to get the oven up to temp. In the end we feared it might be too cool and switched the bird to our electric oven and gave it a quick roast on pure convection. Better safe that sick all night!!
So tonight, as all of you are experiencing your turkey coma and have reached your level of tolerance with that old aunt that talks too much, the uncle that drinks too much, the cousin that laughs too much, the sibling that drives you nuts by the mere fact that they are breathing…. Step back and remember to be thankful – thankful that you had a thanksgiving, thankful that you had food on your table and heat in your home, and most of all thankful to your loving god and thankful that you are fortunate enough to live in the best country in the world. God bless America!
And no, the bad dog did not get any cooked turkey today!!
2 comments:
Our Thanksgiving was small but mighty. Wayne and I came down from Powell River to be with my mother in Bellingham. We had a city dinner cooked in a city kitchen, but it was lovely all the same. I too thought of my dad when we cut the turkey. He always loved the tail. I can still see him savoring it, the juices running down his chin. He was the baby of 13 children. Maybe that was all that was left and the family made it seem important. I'm really not sure, but it is a fond memory I have of him all the same. And a Happy Thanksgiving to each of you from the both of us. -- Wayne and Margy
Very Nice! Made me think of my own Dad who passed away about 14 years ago at the age of only 57. Just hasn't been the same without him.
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