It isn’t even Halloween yet, but already the magazines at the supermarket checkout are full of ideas for Thanksgiving.
“Cut the carbs, this Thanksgiving!” screams one.
“Ban the butter!” trumpets another.
“Make this year’s Turkey Day cruelty free!” cries a third.
“How are they going to do that?” my husband wanted to know, reading the magazine cover as he wrestled some paper towels onto the conveyor belt. “Bring a live turkey to the table and let it stare at us?”
I decided this was not the time to announce that this year, we’d be doing my own version of a “cruelty-free” feast — namely, that instead of my spending a week burning myself in the kitchen, I’d be buying it all, already cooked and ready to put onto serving platters.
That would be my secret just a little longer. Instead, I focused on the magazines.
“Why do they have to mess with Thanksgiving, anyway? That day, of all days, is supposed to be about traditions! What’s traditional about stevia and canola?”
My husband’s face lit up. “Sounds like a 1950’s singing group,” he said. He held a packaged celery like a microphone, crooning into it: “And now, for the sweet sounds of Stevia and Canola.”
“The cashier has to ring that up, now,” I said, stopping the show.
But the idea of “messing with Thanksgiving” stayed with me, until I could compare notes with some friends about their holiday plans.
“The thing is,” said one of them, “everyone has a different thing that makes it feel like ‘Thanksgiving’ … and sometimes, you don’t even know what it is till that thing isn’t there any more.”
“Like what?” I asked her.
“Well, my mom has a creamed corn recipe that she got from her mom. But last year she decided not to make it. ‘Cream is too fattening,’ she said. But everybody missed it!”
“For me, it’s the stuffing,” I said. “It’s so delicious! But my mom started to worry about the butter — plus you need a certified medical technician to take it out of the bird, so you don’t poison every one. So she started baking it separately. And once you do that, it just isn’t the same. So she did without it one year… and I kept asking people to pass me the stuffing!”
“That sounds rude, Judy.”
“It wasn’t on purpose! It just didn’t feel like Thanksgiving, yet.”
“I’ve got to have cranberry sauce,” said another friend. “Especially the jello mold, with carrots and celery added. It used to have nuts, too, but not any more because so many people have…”
“Allergies! I know!” I interjected. “Don’t get me started! If we have to eliminate every ingredient that someone is allergic to, from Thanksgiving, we’ll be down to a bowl of hot water and a bouillon cube!”
“A vegetarian cube, I hope.”
“And even then, it’s got too much salt.”
“You see what I mean?” I said. “At least, what my boys want, for Thanksgiving, is a fire in the fireplace.”
“Well, that’s not outlawed yet — except out west, where they can’t allow sparks.”
“True. It’s just that I have too many piles of paper blocking the way.”
“Why not push it all in, and kill two birds with one stone?”
“Speaking of birds,” I said, “have you noticed that none of us mentioned ‘Turkey’ as being indispensable? And yet, just try doing without it!”
“Most of all,” said the friend with the biggest family, “you’ve got to have desserts. Pies, and cakes, and plenty of them!”
“And don’t try to cheat!” I warned them. “Take a lesson from my father’s coffee cake ‘bake-off’.”
After my Dad retired, he took up baking, making his mother’s coffee cake recipe over and over again, till he got it right. But each time he’d change it a little — to make it “healthier,” he said. He’d use a little less sugar, or one less egg yolk, or replace the shortening with apple sauce. And every year, he’d bring it to Thanksgiving and we’d tell him, “It’s pretty good!”
Then, one year, his sister brought one, too. And her cake was reduced to crumbs, while his was still standing there with just a slice or two missing.
“How come hers tastes so much better?” Dad wanted to know. “It’s the same recipe!”
“Yes, Dad,” we answered. “But Aunt Pearl uses all the ingredients.”
So here’s the moral of my Thanksgiving tale: It’s one night out of the year: use the butter and sugar! And diet on your own time.
