Thanksgiving will be just me and him. This happened once before. I don’t remember the reason back then but this year it’s Covid.
That one other time we opted for chicken instead of turkey since it was only the two of us. I called my mom and she asked how the holiday went. I told her and she said when she was young, they always had chicken for Thanksgiving.
If we hadn’t been without our usual family around the table, I never would have known that. A warm connection to the past filled my soul and now that we will have one of those holidays again, that warm connected feeling is back. Because we’ll probably have chicken. Or maybe pizza.
For the past fifteen years or so, our son makes the turkey, the stuffing and the gravy. We make the side dishes. Rob bakes a pumpkin pie using a Martha Stewart recipe and sometimes I bake an apple pie using no recipe. I learned that from my mother.
I can’t say I learned it really. She rarely used recipes, or patterns or any other guide to cook, bake, or create art. She’s very talented. My not using a recipe is hit or miss. For some reason my mother’s originality was always a hit. She doesn’t cook anymore.
She didn’t cook much when I was growing up. Probably because she had nothing to cook. But she always managed a wonderful holiday meal. Mostly wonderful. I do remember the “cranberry sauce” she slid out of a can and sliced. I liked it but it’s not food. I had no idea what real cranberry sauce was supposed to be until I started to read cookbooks after I got married. What a revelation!
I make it now with fresh organic cranberries, dehydrated cane sugar and a couple other ingredients. But I have to admit my favorite recipe is one that reminds me of the taste of the jiggly canned burgundy gel I remember from when I was young.
Quiet holidays are nice now and then. Especially Thanksgiving. Time to reflect on all there is to be thankful for.