Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Mother used to stare at me from time to time and then pronounce that I was a strange child. Her early decision has been seconded by others. And today, on this eve of Thanksgiving, I am going to just supply more evidence that I am strange. In fact, I take a rather perverse pride in it.
Case in point: I am not fond of roasted turkey. Oh, I love the dressing - well, most dressings. Some families just have really strange tastes in dressings. I don't like stuffed celery or jello salad and I get barfy just looking at candied sweet potatoes. Why would someone want to ruin a perfectly good food item that way? And I will eat only about an obligitory spoonful of the tradition French cut green beans with slice almonds and canned mushroom soup (see previous statement about ruining sweet potatoes).
I was an adult before, out of courtesy only, I would have a thin slice of pumpkin pie. Not my favorite. Mom always did two pies for this All American stuffout and I preferred the pecan. Really preferred the pecan. Mom made a superb pecan pie. I soon found out this is not true for all people that attempt this delicacy. For self-defense I have learned to cook a nut topped pumpkin tart (made from fresh pumpkin and not canned) to take to all invitations to Thanksgiving dinner.
All that said I love this holiday on one major level - all the men are out of the way in front of the bowl games, and all the women are in the kitchen cooking, sampling, and dishing the dirt. The TV is on loud enough they cannot hear the peals of laughter. If the men knew what we were up to (beyond cooking) they would never let us alone! Even clean up is fun. Men are back in front of the TV (awake or snoring) and us women are washing dishes while telling horridly funny tales of Thanksgivings past spiced with a few instant replays of the feast just over.
Tomorrow's Thankgiving is all women, and we are mostly thankful we have survived this year thus far. We have relationships that go back 20 years or more. I have known my sister all her life, and Dianne since 1972 and the incident of the burnt lentils. Not a single football game will be watched though Macy's Thanksgiving Parade will be on for the random tea break while cooking and catching up goes on in the kitchen.
I am not sure historically what the men did on that first pioneer thanksgiving. Probably pitched horseshoes in the barn, but I am willing to bet the women did about the same thing we will be doing minus the temperature controlled oven and the microwave. I am taking along all the fixings for that pumpkin tart I mentioned. And I have been assured the sweet potatoes will be baked as they should be.
May your Thanksgiving meal include all your favorites and that Aunt Alice leaves home the cool whip and jello fruit salad with the miniature marshmallows.