Giving thanks on Thanksgiving

Thu, 11/27/2014 - 8:00am

The air has turned crisp, the leaves have fallen, the clocks have been turned back, Halloween costumes have been packed away, and now, during the next few weeks the chief cook of most household will be fighting the urge to stuff a bird — Canada geese beware.

During the weeks before Thanksgiving, the chief cook can be seen pacing back and forth in front of the poultry bin at the grocery store, hefting this turkey and that, trying to decide on size and frozen or fresh — frozen can be purchased ahead of time, fresh is another last minute thing.

After all the planning, shopping, baking and checking up on who is coming and who isn’t (shame on you) the day for giving thanks finally arrives.

Early that morning the chief cook quietly makes her/his way to the kitchen — not necessarily awake — to have warm cup of something and breathe in the peace and quiet before the preparation of this annual feast which begins with the washing and drying of a rather large, cold, sometimes partially frozen slippery dead bird.

Next, in the biggest bowl in the home the chief cook mixes toasted bread crumbs along with other ingredients to create the family’s traditional stuffing. Each of us grows up eating our own family’s stuffing that has been passed down through generations and the appreciation of which is hard wired. No other family’s stuffing is ever as good — if it is, it is never mentioned to the chief cook.

Then, precariously balancing the bird right side up and upside down, the chief cook manages to stuff dark clammy cavities. The bird is then sewed up, squeezed into a roasting pan that is usually two six sizes too small (next year for sure the chief cook will buy a larger pan) and placed in the oven to roast.

The chief cook then realizes that enough stuffing is left over in the biggest bowl to fill the four stomachs of a cow. This extra is scooped into a greased pan, which will be popped into the oven at a later time and unsuccessfully passed off on the family at a post-holiday dinner as the real thing.

They all know it’s just not true and the pan will remain housed in the fridge until Christmas then thrown out since every lick of fridge space is golden.

As the bird slowly cooks the aroma floats through the home and into the bedrooms waking up the other members of the household who begin to trickle into the kitchen. The resident cats and dogs have stationed themselves in front of the oven.

Breakfast is prepared and devoured, after which everyone who has trickled into the kitchen trickles out and assumes a position in front of the TV in preparation for upcoming parades and games. Occasionally someone calls to the chief cook, “Come and join us.” The cook gently reminds them, “I’m way too busy in the kitchen, thank you just the same.”

Those in front of the TV, fighting off occasional tinges of guilt, take turns wandering into the kitchen to help with washing, peeling, chopping and searching for the olive dish, pickle dish, cranberry sauce dish, stuffing dish and several vegetable dishes — they were right in this cupboard last year!

Amazingly all the food, except for the turnips, which are usually forgotten and later found taking up golden space next to the pretend stuffing in the fridge at Christmas, somehow manages to end up on the table along with turkey, stuffing and gravy, piping hot at the same time.

With all cell phones turned off and depending on the household, a prayer of giving thanks might be said before the feast begins. Once the food is served, there might be a discussion of Thanksgivings past:

Remember the year Uncle Ted had become a card carrying vegetarian and refused to eat any turkey and mom was insulted.

And remember the year Sue came home from college and decided we should put oysters in the stuffin’.

And remember the last Thanksgivings Nana and Gramps were here … silence.

After a few brave souls have finished their second helping, the feast usually ends with a chorus of “never again … I ate too much … tomorrow I diet” and one by one the family and guests, invited and not, return to watching the games, taking a nap and/or going for a leisurely walk.

The chief cook and a few helpers return everything that was placed on the table back to the kitchen and the ritual of dissecting the bird begins — some for hot turkey dinner, some for sandwiches, some for turkey soup, some for turkey salad, some for guests to take home and some for the cat(s) and dog(s).

Desserts and coffee and tea would then be set out on table to enjoy when the call arises.

After the guests say their good-byes, the household members trickle back to the kitchen for white-bread-turkey-mayo sandwiches and a glass of cold milk while the chief cook might end the day the same way it began — sipping a cup of something warm in peace and quiet while logging in another holiday in the memory book.

Bonnie Thompson Enes worked as a reporter at the Boothbay Register in the 1980s and this piece was originally written and published in the Register in 1986 or 1987. It was updated for this edition.