mysteryoriley

What are your favorite Thanksgiving foods?  Besides turkey, that is.  I think it’s cool when someone doesn’t like turkey, and they find other foods that become their traditional favorites.

Mashed potatoes are my favorite Thanksgiving food.  Funny, I can have mashed potatoes any time I want, but they are special on this holiday.  Maybe it’s because when I was growing up, I liked so few foods, that knowing mashed potatoes would be on the table, created a sense of safety.  Safety from people asking me why I didn’t like all the other foods.  I could fill up on white meat turkey, mashed potatoes, and dinner rolls slathered with butter, and the questions melted away.  As long as my family could see me eat to their heart’s content, they didn’t have to worry if their skinny little girl was eating “enough to keep a bird alive”.  (I heard that phrase a lot.)

I didn’t like pies of any type when I was a kid.  Pies were unidentifiable, and therefore to be avoided.  Slippery, brown-glazed apples in a crust of dough didn’t do it for me.  Pumpkin pie was dark orange.  NOT okay.  Pecan pie was made from pecans, so that didn’t work either.  Thanksgiving dinner was all about the beige, tan, and yellow foods for me.

My mom used to make a French bean casserole topped with crusted bread crumbs, sweet potatoes topped with marshmallows, mashed potatoes, dinner rolls, corn (so she could feel like I was eating something healthy), and THE TURKEY, plus stuffing, of course.  Stuffing?  Unidentifiable.

In my entire life, I have never woken up early enough on Thanksgiving to be a part of the “get the turkey in the oven in time” deadline.  I never will.  If someone else is willing to disturb sleep for food, please, by all means, invite me to dinner. 

Between Dave and my mom, they always had the preparations in full swing by the time I exited the bedroom.  And, they were usually in the middle of territorial issues related to kitchen duties, space, and which recipes would end up on the table. 

In the years when Nat and Owen were with us on Thanksgiving, we were the smart ones, relaxing in front of the television, or entertaining ourselves with books or games, leaving the whole food extravaganza to Dave and Mom.  We were happy to help by setting the table, and getting the beverages, but sweating over a hot oven was not on our lists of holiday fun. 

Eating, however, was fun.  There was always enough food for an army, and we looked forward to leftovers.  For Nat, the leftovers seemed more important than the dinner itself.  Leftovers can be raided in the middle of the night, for breakfast the next morning, and throughout the following days.  Owen and I picked at leftovers, occasionally trying to recreate an overflowing plate, but often tossed half of it.  Once the day was done, it was done. 

In recent years, pie became a treat for me.  Too much of a treat, really.  I would rather eat apple, pumpkin, and pecan pie, than anything else Thanksgiving-related.  Except mashed potatoes, of course. 

Owen followed in my footsteps in much of this.  As a child, he liked only the beige, tan, and yellow foods, and pie was an insignificant and unnecessary part of the evening.  That changed throughout the years, mostly due to the quality of pies at the Rileys’ household.  Like I said yesterday, after Michael and I divorced, the boys spent most of their Thanksgivings with his family.  Nana and Auntie Lyn were the BEST pie makers.  Lyn still is, Laura has joined in the pie-making tradition, and Nana has moved on to pie in the sky (she died about 5 years ago). 

I love it that no one seems to think anything odd about having two kinds of potatoes at the same meal.  Let’s have six kinds of potatoes.  I don’t think I’ve ever met a person who doesn’t like at least one kind of potato.  But, there are those who don’t like turkey.     

If you grew up in a house where having any food at all was a reason to celebrate, the word “favorite” probably had very little meaning.  Thanksgiving might have been just another day to feel deprived.  There are more of these households than most of us want to acknowledge.  And, then, there are plenty of people who don’t have a home at all, so eating is something that comes at the cost of visiting a shelter, or the local social services kitchen.  Calling a particular food a favorite, might be something like “anything that’s edible”. 

Food is fuel, pure and simple.  Sometimes, I think we’re strange creatures to have created these gatherings mainly centered around food.  In the days when we all had a hand in growing the various crops, and raising the livestock, perhaps there was more of a connection.  Yet, I cherish these family and social events, with all our favorite foods, but I’m happy with my mashed potatoes - you eat your sweet potatoes, and leave me alone to do the dishes.

This year, Thanksgiving falls on November 22, the 42nd anniversary of my dad’s death, and the first year of Owen’s death.  I’m thinking I may not even notice the mashed potatoes.  I will, however, notice the absence of Daddy, Mom, Nana, Butch, Owen, and all the others who spent Thanksgiving dinners with us over the years.  I will be thinking of them.  I will be remembering their favorite foods.  And, I will be thinking of what favorite foods will become a part of their descendents’ Thanksgiving dinners.  Let’s just hope they are not among those that are genetically engineered to be bigger, more beautiful, but not necessarily better.  How can you improve on the simplicity of a potato?  Okay, or a turkey?

Song for the night:  Thanksgiving Song, Adam Sandler (this is NOT the family-friendly version, which I originally posted – but NBC pulled the YouTube version the day after I posted it – censorship and money working together, obviously – so, this is the R-rated version, for only one line regarding Adam’s brother – Nat and Owen would rather I had chosen this version in the first place, but, hey, I’m a mom…)

http://youtube.com/watch?v=2vdL233IcS8

If you can find the Saturday Night Live version of this song, it is the one that holds my true intention in this post.  It’s funnier, but this is what we have now.  Thanks, NBC.  You suck. 

~ by Linda on November 19, 2007.

Posted in animals, child loss, grief, friends, Nat Riley, Owen Riley, Michael Douglas Riley, Linda Siniard, loss, love, children, death, family, food, friends, gardening, grief, holidays, learning, Life, mothering, music, mystery, parenting, writing
Tags: Adam Sandler, apple pie, holidays, leftovers, mashed potatoes, pecan pie, pumpkin pie, sweet potatoes, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving Turkey Song SNL, turkey, turkey stuffing