Gearing up for Thanksgiving
This year I'll enjoy two Thanksgiving dinners -- today with some old and dear friends, and tomorrow at home. Not to mention the leftovers.
As usual, at the fresh free-range turkey place, I had to wait in line. They have a number card system and when they call your number and hand it over, they always say the same thing: "I'm just going to wash my hands and then I'll take your order."
Next door at Ocean Village produce I picked up the necessary accompaniments: potatoes, turnips, cranberries, brussels sprouts.
"Are you making a turkey?" The clerk was speaking to another customer, about my age.
"Yes," said the woman. "I've just got a small one this year. There will be only three of us." I turned and gave her a thumbs-up.
"Ditto," I said. The smile she returned was brimming with warm memories of other Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners cooked. I knew because I felt the same: each one prepared evokes the many similar seasonal dinners that went before.
We're not making pumpkin pie. If we were going to, I'd have to get the pumpkin in the pot this morning and do the pies this afternoon to give them time to chill. Preparations for these seasonal meals can take days, and that's as should be, part of the ritual. But we have some of the last Okanagan peaches of the season in the fridge, so those will become a crumble.
Still, I did buy a pumpkin yesterday, one of the small sweet ones. I've washed the mud off it (they're so fresh from the field) but the pie project will have to wait until next weekend. Maybe I'll skip the pie crust too, and make it a baked pumpkin custard.
These seasonal traditions are important markers. They adapt and adjust, but they carry on. Without the shopping spree for turkey, autumn vegetables and cranberries, it wouldn't be fall.
Tomorrow we'll be enjoying our annual Thanksgiving dinner. I'm grateful for the blessings of robust health, happy employment, and a snug home. Most of all, I relish the privilege of pausing in our busy lives to sit down once again to share this ritual meal with loved ones.
As usual, at the fresh free-range turkey place, I had to wait in line. They have a number card system and when they call your number and hand it over, they always say the same thing: "I'm just going to wash my hands and then I'll take your order."
Next door at Ocean Village produce I picked up the necessary accompaniments: potatoes, turnips, cranberries, brussels sprouts.
"Are you making a turkey?" The clerk was speaking to another customer, about my age.
"Yes," said the woman. "I've just got a small one this year. There will be only three of us." I turned and gave her a thumbs-up.
"Ditto," I said. The smile she returned was brimming with warm memories of other Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners cooked. I knew because I felt the same: each one prepared evokes the many similar seasonal dinners that went before.
We're not making pumpkin pie. If we were going to, I'd have to get the pumpkin in the pot this morning and do the pies this afternoon to give them time to chill. Preparations for these seasonal meals can take days, and that's as should be, part of the ritual. But we have some of the last Okanagan peaches of the season in the fridge, so those will become a crumble.
Still, I did buy a pumpkin yesterday, one of the small sweet ones. I've washed the mud off it (they're so fresh from the field) but the pie project will have to wait until next weekend. Maybe I'll skip the pie crust too, and make it a baked pumpkin custard.
These seasonal traditions are important markers. They adapt and adjust, but they carry on. Without the shopping spree for turkey, autumn vegetables and cranberries, it wouldn't be fall.
Tomorrow we'll be enjoying our annual Thanksgiving dinner. I'm grateful for the blessings of robust health, happy employment, and a snug home. Most of all, I relish the privilege of pausing in our busy lives to sit down once again to share this ritual meal with loved ones.