This is one of my favorite past blog entries, originally posted November 24, 2008. I've gotten much better at cooking Thanksgiving since then, and it has officially become my holiday...however this year I'm not the one cooking. So I'm going to reminisce via the internet:
My parents are coming in for Thanksgiving again this year. Thanksgiving has become my holiday,
ever since I cooked my first turkey for my parents and brother in my
tiny NYC studio apartment eight years ago. Ever since, I've remained the
host of our T-Day meal. Even when we've been at my parents', it's still
my show. I cook, carve, bake, and serve. And I love doing it.
I
have fond memories of the big extended family Thanksgiving, cooked by
mom and aunts and grandma, while the other adults watched football, and
we kids scrambled around in the backyard until called. We set a cheerful
table and the food appeared – a warm, delicious smorgasbord of dishes
not to be seen again for a year.
The original magic of
Thanksgiving is somewhat gone for me, now that I know how the stuffing
gets into the bird, so to speak. But in its place, I've come to cherish
the ability to create something pleasing for people I love. I've done it
enough to feel comfortable, even confident, and to put most of my
performance-anxiety aside. I no longer worry about ruining the bird
(wouldn’t be the end of the world) or keeping people waiting to eat (it
can ever be perfectly timed). I have finally hit my stride.
Each
year, I find myself begging less and less wisdom from my mother’s
experience. My mom doesn’t enjoy cooking, so she was happy to hand this
off to me. Neither of us looked back. But I notice something larger
going on. The rolling of generations. Soon enough, it’s likely I'll be
"mom," and she'll become "grandma," and though those titles seem far
away, we have already taken the first steps down an inevitable road.
I
contemplate this while chopping and basting: the passage of time, and
the changes we must go through. It’s a good feeling – nostalgia for what
was, and anticipation of what might be ahead. A torch is being passed,
from one generation to the next. Though, I guess in our case, you could
say we're passing the turkey.
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