Turkey Day

The first tradition we have for Thanksgiving in our household is the annual "Turkey Dive" wherein we all go shopping for our turkey and all but climb into the turkey bins in search of the biggest bird we can find at that particular location. Anything less than 20 pounds is automatically tossed back. It's just bragging rights on the line if you are the one who finds the biggest bird, but the way my kids and I go at, you'd think there was money involved...

So this years Tom Turkey weighed in at 22.3 pounds- and I was the winner! Not that we needed a bird that big- we weren't having any company other than my friend ChaCha, but I wouldn't know how to cook anything smaller. I was again reminded of this fact as I finished making a vat of mashed potatoes that could feed an army and a boy band.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized I do this every year. Since I have been making Thanksgiving since I was 17, it's the only way I know how. Even when I had one child. I cook the same dishes with only a few changes (fresh green beans instead of moms canned ones, homemade cranberry relish instead of canned cranberry ala sauce, for example) and remember the stories behind who liked which best growing up. I still make gross yams because they were my sisters favorite, I have to have Lipton Onion soup mix French Onion Dip with Ruffles because it's what my mom let us snack on until it was time for dinner.

In short, I'm cooking for ghosts. I am cooking for the siblings who haven't shared this holiday with me in over 10 years, for my mom who is gone, for all the family I wish I had to share this day with and don't. It's my way. It's what I do. I won't cry about it, but I will cook the hell out of that 30 pound turkey I hope to find someday.

If you ever need a place to go for Turkey Day, please stop by. I always have more than enough- and you know I'm going to be sick of turkey reeeeal soon.