Over the past couple of days, I have been assembling our Thanksgiving meal. The thought occurred to me there were few dishes I was making that were not influenced by Thanksgivings past. From the actual recipes to the physical dishes that contained food or presented the stars of the meal. Very few, if any, were not influenced by many Thanksgivings spent with family.
When I was little, the Thanksgivings I remember are from my grandmother’s house. My grandmother loved having her family home and she showed this love by feeding them. The size of my father’s side of the family is…not typical today. Suffice it to say, it was large. I do not know if my grandmother had any knowledge of the number of stomachs that would be at her house for Thanksgiving, but it did not matter. She somehow could take one potato, a chicken and some unlabeled cans in the back of her pantry and feed 50 people. This did not take her 3 days to cook every dish known to man and all excellent. She never looked or even whispered she might be tired. I should have figured out she was an angel at that point. Once my Daddy died, followed by my sweet grandmother, Thanksgiving traditions shifted.
After I married and had children, we traveled many Thanksgiving holidays to my sister’s home. She was always the perfect host. If memory serves me correctly, she did not sit down for multiple days. She may have slept in the kitchen because there was never a dirty dish in her prescence. The amount of baked goods should have rendered her a community bakery. Quick eats that looked effortless and were anything but, and nightly meals leading to the main event were served (occasionally ordered.) From her kitchen I learned so many dishes I make today. The ones specific to Thanksgiving are her dressing and green beans. My niece’s job every year was to cut the brussel sprouts. I thought of my sweet girl that is now a doctor and a mama yesterday as I cut my own brussel sprouts. My other sister, Carol’s job was to makes sure everyone else had a job while she mixed drinks.
I told my grown children today that my first wedding anniversary gift from their father, was a food processor. The sole purpose of this was to chop the vegetables in the Thanksgiving dressing. My heart broke a little when I had to replace that processor a few years back.
My mother’s potato salad goes on the table at most family gatherings. Today it could not go in the “Red Bowl” handed down from my grandmother, because it simply would not fit. The smoked Turkey (claiming credit for figuring this one out) was prominently displayed on a platter Carol gave me. I removed this platter from a china cabinet Tim’s maternal grandfather made. The brussel sprouts, blacked peas, and turnip greens should have gone in the colored dishes from Tim’s paternal grandmother, but I decided I didn’t want to risk them today.
I am not sure the reason, but at the last minute I decided we were to use the China as our dishes. A formal place setting was set on the picnic table my grandfather made almost 50 years ago. The last memory I have of using our China was a Thanksgiving meal with my mom and dad when we lived in Conway instead of Greenbrier. When Joseph took the silver chest off the top of the cabinet the physical evidence of solitude this chest has experienced caused a sneeze. Apparently no one but me knew that chest existed. After the meal was complete, we all were in the kitchen cleaning up. The kids were trusted with the drying of the china. Everyone passed.
While Thanksgiving was just our family, the memories of so many others were definitely at the table. I am glad they joined us today.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
