The first Thanksgiving I cooked for was the hardest. Amity was a tiny
baby–Frank and I both had flu. I managed to stagger into the kitchen
and heat up a can of Campbell’s chicken soup with rice for us to
celebrate with. We were both thankful we could keep the soup down that
day, a sign that we were finally getting better.
I remember the Thanksgiving when I was 10, when my Aunt Mary let me
help make the giblet gravy. It was delicious. She and I kept tasting it
in the kitchen, and when it was time to serve it we had none left.
I remember the many holiday meals I shared with Frank’s grandparents.
Grandma Wilczek would cook an authentic Polish feast with lots of
kielbasa. Then we would all drive over to Grandma Cona’s for an Italian
super-spectacular–turkey plus pans of lasagne, meatballs, and sausage.
It’s a wonder we have any arteries left.
I remember when I realized, 10 years ago, that my computer could help
me stage-manage Thanksgiving. I created timetables, lists of dishes and
recipes. I don’t know how people did all this before they had printers.
This year, we’ll be 12 around the table (pardon my elbow!) No canned
soup, but plenty of veggie pot pie and killer brownies along with the
turkey and gravy for carnivores like me.
Now I better get cooking!