What is your Thanksgiving tradition?
Thanksgiving has worn many faces in my life—crowded kitchens, 22-pound turkeys greeting the dawn, aunties in aprons, cross-country flights gone wrong, and now a quiet table set for one. What hasn’t changed is that tug of nostalgia as the house fills with the familiar scents of butter, broth, and something slowly roasting. My celebration today looks nothing like the chaotic family feasts of my childhood, but in its own way, it’s become just as meaningful… maybe even more so.
My Mom hosted Thanksgiving for our family of eight plus two spinster aunts. Those were the days when you had to get up at 5:00 a.m. to put the 22-pound turkey in the oven. But really, the preparations started days earlier. The turkey was thawing in the fridge at least four days ahead of time. Luckily we had a second fridge out in Dad’s shop, which freed up the kitchen fridge for the butter, eggs, celery, and real cream for whipping. I have such vivid memories of those behind-the-scenes rhythms.
I took over hosting when I was 23, newly married, living in the duplex we owned (the other side rented out to pay the mortgage). Fortunately, everyone brought a side dish, making it much easier than Mom’s solo marathon. That tradition only lasted a few years before we moved to California after the great Ohio blizzard.
In the Bay Area, we created a new tradition: inviting friends and neighbors without nearby family to a Thanksgiving potluck. We tried making the trip back to Columbus our first year in California, but it was a disaster of delays, missed connections, and luggage frozen on the tarmac for days. After that, we stayed put and made our own celebrations.
Fast forward to intergenerational JB in Lake Oswego. These days the kidults and grands go to Jesse’s side of the family for holidays and birthdays. I no longer join them—the drinking gets out of hand, tempers flare, and frankly, my blood pressure prefers peace. So now I get to cook all MY favorites, light a candle, and settle in with a BBC detective drama. Honestly… bliss.
Dressing has always been my favorite dish. I use a pared-down Pioneer Woman recipe with three kinds of bread (one being cornbread), and it’s a once-a-year treat I should probably allow myself more often. And yes—I make homemade gravy. This year, instead of Costco’s massive pumpkin pie, I’m making a small one from One Dish Kitchen, just a few perfect servings for one. I’m also trying her green bean casserole for one.
And the main event this year? Duck confit. I’ve never had it, but one of our fancy grocery stores carries fresh-frozen confit. Thaw, sear, serve. It’s already fully cooked, but the butcher told me that searing takes it from delicious to ooo-la-la.
These days my Thanksgiving table may be smaller, quieter, and blissfully drama-free, but it’s also filled with gratitude—the simple kind that comes from honoring old memories while creating new, gentler ones. Whether you’re feeding a crowd, traveling across states, or enjoying a peaceful feast for one, I hope your holiday brings exactly what you need… even if that’s just good food, a warm candle, and a detective solving a case in the background.
No comments:
Post a Comment