I Am a Chef - The Thanksgiving Meal

I grew up in an Italian-American family and holidays were about two things:  Family and Food.  My earliest memories of holidays are of packing the little sedan with six people and the trunk with boxes of pies and pots with tight fitting lids as we made the 2 mile drive to my paternal grandmother's house on Franklin Ave. in Kent, Ohio or the 60 miles trek to my maternal grandmother's house in Lorain, Ohio.  While the kitchen was full of women, laughter and aromas, we children were running up and down stairs, inventing games and just enjoying being with our cousins.  The only stress of the holiday was over how we were going to satisfy the expectations to be at both houses at once so both families would feel complete.

When I married and had my own family, we repeated the process packing our car with five people and the trunk with our food offerings and tried to satisfy the expectation of both sets of grandparents that their family be complete around their holiday table.  One year the father of my children had enough...basta!  This year, he announced, we are preparing our own Thanksgiving dinner so our sons have the memory of their mother cooking the turkey.  We will visit our families during the day but we will eat at home.  I spent the morning preparing the food in my tiny kitchen and when the turkey was ready to come out of the oven, called the three boys in to crowd around the stove as I opened the oven door and displayed the roaster with the crisp brown turkey cradled in the rack.  "There," I announced, "is the Thanksgiving turkey that your own mother prepared. Imprint it on your memory!"

Over the years the meals have moved from house to house, but the main pull has been to gather as many of the family as possible around the holiday table to celebrate family.  The greatest joy I have is to be involved in the preparation of the food.

I read the slick displays of the local markets and restaurants that offer to prepare your meal for you and consider the convenience of having the food delivered pipping hot to the door ready to grace the awaiting, set table.  While it is a time and energy saver, somehow it feels a bit empty to me.  For me, what is missing is the expending of love that goes into the preparation and this feeds my soul.  I began my personal investment yesterday.  I prepared the delicious brine (thank you Melinda Lee of KNX) and placed my fresh turkey in it to soak for 24 hours.  I prepared the homemade stock for my gravy. I cubed and toasted the bread for my dressing.  Today I will make the candied sweet potatoes and transfer the turkey to air dry in the refrigerator. Tomorrow morning I will dress the turkey and roast it, prepare the gravy, load up the car with my husband and the food and drive the 7 miles to my mother's home where those of the family who can, will gather around her table.

This is not a selfless action on my part.  It is very selfish.  With each step of the process I am pulled closer to my family.  I reminisce of Thanksgivings past.  I savor the images of younger versions of my loved ones and those who are gone. I remember who likes what recipes and make sure to include Grandma's Italian stuffing and to not vary the traditional sweet potatoes by adding mandarin oranges like I mistakenly did one year to the shouts of  "What have you done to the sweet potatoes!"  And tomorrow afternoon, as I place the food on the table, I will also have placed my love and I will feel complete.  I will feel connected to my past and to each of the people around the table and I will feel grateful. Being a chef at Thanksgiving is a gift to myself.  Happy Thanksgiving!