Thursday, October 28, 2010

Thanksgiving

To say I love Thanksgiving would be an understatement. To say I'm obsessive about Thanksgiving would also be a bit of an understatement. To say I'm a control freak about Thanksgiving would be...well, you get the idea.

The holiday has always played a central role in my life: I was born on Thanksgiving day. As a kid, I thought it was awesome that my birthday was always on/around the holiday, and it didn't hurt that I got to gorge myself on turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and birthday pumpkin pie (who needs cake?).

That's not to say that all of my Thanksgivings were great.

There was the year we had dinner with my mom's friend, who had disliked me since I was a child and made passive-aggressive remarks to and about me the whole night.

There was the time that my mom and I had dinner with some friends of hers and their college-age daughter. We would later find out that the couple was getting a divorce, which explained why (with the exception of a few pleasantries exchanged between the daughter and us) no one spoke during the entire meal. They also sent us away without leftovers.

There was the time, when I was about 8, that my parents were both working around the clock on different projects: my mom on her Master's dissertation, and my dad on a series of articles that would later win him a Pulitzer.

That year, Thanksgiving was just another day at the office. I spent the afternoon playing with my new birthday presents and the Billy Joel album I had received a day or two before. As the sun started to set, I began to wonder when we would eat and why no one was in the kitchen cooking.

When I inquired, it became obvious that my parents had either lost track of time or forgot it was Thanksgiving all together. By then, of course, it was too late to make a turkey (if we even had one), and all the restaurants were either closed or booked.

We had pancakes.

These experiences (especially the pancake dinner) are what drove me toward my current obsession. When I grew up and moved out on my own, I decided to reclaim the holiday. If I were in charge, I'd know it would be right. I could make sure I had all my favorite foods, done correctly. (Stuffing with sausage? No.) I could make sure everyone went home with leftovers. I would ensure there would be no pancakes.

So for the past 10 years or so, I have compiled recipes that I file in my Thanksgiving binder, which represents, by far, the height of my organizational skills. Around September I start planning recipes and decorations. By the beginning of November I start working on my schedule for Thanksgiving Week. I spend two or three days cooking a meal that lasts 40 minutes. And then, the day after Thanksgiving, I vow that I'm taking the next year off, although I never do.

Until now?

It looked like this year would end my streak. We were going to be living in the trailer by now, and it would be hard to cook a feast for a dozen people, even if they wanted to make the long drive out to the middle of nowhere.

We considered taking Homer to the beach, but he's too big. So then we decided to go to Solvang, just us and the kids. We'd make a small turkey breast and some sides.

But then Homer had his hitch issues, and we've been going back and forth about everything, and now it's probably too late to make reservations, plus I'm having minor panic attacks about Thanksgiving not being "right."

My dad offered to host at his house, but his oven is too small to make a proper turkey. He offered to take us to a restaurant, but that feels sacrilegious.

So, I made the only logical choice: I'll host and cook as usual.

I'll need to restock my kitchen supplies, of course. I have no pie plates, rolling pin, or casserole dishes. I'm not sure I have a roasting pan. But I will overcome. Nothing will come between me and a perfect Thanksgiving feast.

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