Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday. I love dining with family, friends and an opportunity to share what I have with someone new. I also give thanks for the people who have interacted with me and left something of themselves with me.
This year was a smaller gathering than usual; only ten people. I did go to Great Lakes Naval Station to collect the two sailors I invited, only to find they had run out. My niece gave me the "I-told-you-so" glare (I came on the late side), so next year I'm sure she will drag me out at 7 AM not to miss them. Though we had no recruits to entertain this year, we fondly remember the couple dozen recruits we met over the years. Long ago, they "ran out" of recruits again, so they broke up a rehearsal of the Navy Band and sent unattached ones out for an unexpected dinner with us.
When we sat down to dinner today it was not just the ten people present, we had the ethereal presence of many more:
My friend Helen, who'd gladly come though she has her family and friends to care for, sent her freshly made egg rolls to represent her. In exchange, my greetings were sent to her via a sweet potato pie and a pecan pie.
My Busby Berkeley Jello molds were straight out of Jane and Michael Stern, whose books influenced me to seek out the food entrepreneur who put their heart and soul into their food.
My Oma came to mind when I made the wilted cucumber salad with more fresh dill than she would likely use.
Spinach Gratin reminded me of a wine-food pairing dinner at Leek's several years ago.
Sweet potatoes invited an interesting trio: MikeG, Aunt Mary Beth and Aunt Jeanne. Mike's idea of cooking sweet potatoes with oranges provided a respectful barrier to the other two women's contribution (ex- and present wives of the my Uncle Tom respectively) since Mary Beth favored the marshmallows on the bottom and Jeanne the praline on top. Yes, sometimes a dish has some interesting bedfellows.
The mashed potatoes evoked my cousins' youthful steal of all the mashed potatoes. Their idea of a reasonable serving was all the potatoes intended for dinner.
My home canned green beans with lots of butter always reminds us of Mrs. Johnson, the nursery school cook. My nieces raved about her green beans. It was my first time canning green beans, and I was sure Mrs. Johnson used canned, so I offered them to the girls to sample. Elizabeth scowled, "These are just canned green beans!" and wouldn't finish them. I paid a visit to Mrs. Johnson to learn her secret. She pointed to an industrial sized can of green beans, then said "And lots of butter." I again used my home canned green beans mated with the secret ingredient and presented them to Elizabeth. "These are Mrs. Johnson's green beans!" I passed the test.
Erik M's contribution was his suggestion to brine the turkey a la Chez Panisse, which was an excellent idea. He also influenced me to try the Martha Stewart gravy recipe, though it may not be THE recipe, it was pretty good.
There were many years I made two Thanksgiving dinners: one for my elderly neighbor's and one for ourselves. I staggered the cooking time for their turkey to finish 1-2 hours before ours to allow the 2nd oven's availability to finish our side dishes. Lots of people criticized I was crazy to do it. They were interesting people whose fortunes in life were not as bright as one would hope. The wife had family who traced back to the Mayflower. The husband was an interesting intellectual; he subscribed to Biblical Archeology, who craved to debate with the ancients like Socrates. He was born just a little too late and wasn't quite a good fit for contemporary times.
Mashed rutabaga conjured up my Irish Grandfather who often complained my vegetables were never cooked enough, though I did do rutabaga right by his estimate. For several years before he died, he sent us on wild chases trying to recapture a favorite meal of his youth: goose. Whatever way I made it was never goosey enough. The way he described his Mother's cooking just turned my stomach: boiled goose with dumplings floating in the grease. This was one culinary dream, which was never realized.
Cranberry sauce was present like it is for any meal where the main course has wings. I don't know why it is in our family, though that's just the way it is. If such a dinner is served without the cranberry sauce, then someone is sent to hunt it down. Tradition.
Mr. Edgar Rose of Culinary Historians gifted us with his excellent pecan pie recipe.
SteveZ arrived via the frozen Key Lime Pie. It was frozen but it defrosted back to pudding by the time we ate it, though it is back in the freezer for round 2.
Sweet Potato Pie derived from my research on pie history this year thanks to Bruce Kraig.
The punch is usually my cousin Anne's contribution. Alas, she is where she ought to be, with her daughter in Denver. However, the girls maneuvered me to the store today for the ingredients because it just isn't a holiday without punch. Can't wait for Anne to return to remind her of her influence despite not being present.
As my guests were leaving, I handed my cousin Tim a pint of pulled pork to try, which for a moment Gary's aura was present. Learning to finally use my WSM with some finesse is something I am thankful for.
There are so many people whose feet have been under my table for Thanksgiving. I hope they think of us as fondly as we think of them every year.
Just for a moment, our tiger stripped cat returned. He wasn't our cat he belonged to my nieces. He simply enjoyed visiting and the livers fried in butter I cooked just for him. He came one Thanksgiving and never left again. When my sister's family tried to retrieve him, he would hide until they were gone. After a while, my sister brought me his food and a large bag of litter. He didn't live as long as he should have, though he enjoyed his life to the fullest.
Thanksgiving is one terrific holiday. I love all these people who influence and contribute to my warm feelings, which glow brighter every year, because I am never disappointed.
I hope you enjoyed yours as much as I enjoy mine.
Best wishes for a Happy Thanksgiving,