Being a fortunate child, I had a mom who loved to cook and boy did she ever know how to cook a tummy pleasing meal. My favorite meal of the whole year was the traditional Thanksgiving dinner. She would get up before dawn, stuff the turkey with homemade white bread dressing, put it into the huge blue roasting pan and by the time I got up to watch the parade on t.v. the house was filled with the warm, mouthwatering aroma of roasted turkey. Oven door squeaking alerted me to catch a peek of the lightly browned, crunchy skin on the turkey, as my mom would quickly take the lid off and baste the bird. Steam bubbled up from the boiling turnip and carrots' kettle. Deviled eggs were already made and back in the fridge until lunch. Sweet potatoes were being candied in the cast iron skillet on the back burner (no marshmallows in mom's version.) Homemade pumpkin pie was resting on the cooling rack, near the stove. Giblets, neck bone and other "throwaway" turkey parts were being trimmed for the giblet gravy. No one helped my mom and yet somehow dinner was always perfect. It was as if she had an inner schedule that she knew exactly when to stir this pot; when to check the turkey to keep it moist; when she needed to add the flour to the gravy stock and when she could take off her apron and serve the most delicious dinner of all year.
Up until her last few years, she made the deviled eggs and dressing and I made the rest. Now that she's been gone for too many years, it has fallen on me to pay attention to that instinct that tells me when the potatoes are done and the turkey is ready to come out of the oven. No matter how much I try, what spices I use, what ingredients that I add, my dinner will never taste as good as the ones that my mom so lovingly created. She knew how to cook and feed her family with love.
With this remembering, I am reminded of all the blessings that I have been given and I am grateful.
Here's wishing you all a blessed Thanksgiving. May your plates be full, your waistbands elastic, your loved ones healthy and your friendships ever lasting.
Why is it that a lot of our best memories contain food? I guess it is that whole nourishment thing--our tummies, our souls.
ReplyDeleteI could hang with you until the turnips! But, it sounds like your mother put a lot of love into her Thanksgiving meal, and you have been able to continue that. I understand. My dad no longer makes the dressing, and now I have that duty. He'll tell me tomorrow if it makes the grade or not!
Beautiful Thanksgiving Blessing. And to you, too.