Anyone have a better idea than Turkey? Let's here it. Drop your recipes here; share the good stuff that makes you sleep bad, you're so full from eating more than you needed. What's my favorite recipe for the holiday? It starts with re-heated tamales, Chula's of course. Then you add that sweet potatoe pie Deborah does so well.
And don't forget the drinks. Good teas, or a fruit shake. Anything to get the pipes moving in the right direction. A fiesta always includes glasses, full to the brim, raised in celebration. This year, perhaps more than any other in recent time, deserves a toast, a blessing - gracias El Senor!
Bring on the treats; share the smells of your kitchen. We're ready.
Ex-Sunnyside Washington child, raised by amazing Mexican matriarch [Chula].
Friday, November 12, 2004
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What DIDN'T we eat at Thanksgiving in Mississippi when I was growing up?! Oh, the memories... The year my tea-totaling grandmother made a rum cake so potent we all got woozy when she lifted the lid from the cake saver and Mama said we children couldn't have any. The first time I had real cranberries as opposed to the congealed kind out of a can and discovered I actually liked them. Leftover turkey and dressing sandwiches. Pecan pie, pumpkin pie, sweet potato casserole, pralines (the REAL ones), Kentucky Bourbon cake, Rhonda's Cinnamon Cake, Ma Ball's Burnt Sugar Cake, Mama's German Chocolate cake, custard, banana pudding... Oh, Good Heavens, I'm starting to hallucinate. Maybe some of these were Church Picnic staples instead of Thanksgiving. It's getting hard to see.
But the coups de gras, Grandmother's Chocolate Pie and her Coconut Cake. Oh, my heavens. They were probably illegal everywhere outside the Deep South. The crying shame, the ultimate horror, the sorrow of sorrows, is that her recipes died with her, as she never wrote down a recipe in her life and never forgot one till Alzheimers took her memory.
Is it possible to taste something so rich, to conger it in the imagination till you can smell and taste it? I think so. Just thinking of Thanksgiving at Grandmother's floods my senses. I can even taste the icy co-colas from the back left of the second shelf in her refrigerator. No wonder my family has been at sea about what to do to with Thanksgiving celebrations ever since my mother's parents died.
May we bring equally poignant traditions, scents, tastes, and sounds to our family, those still here with us, to create another link on the construction paper chain of memory.
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