Memories and Moments by GrannyJo

I SMELL A MEMORY
Copyright 2003

I REMEMBER THE SCENTS OF THANKSGIVING

Does anyone ever forget the wondrous aroma of a turkey roasting in the oven, the sweet scent of spiced pumpkin, pecan and apple pies cooling on a sideboard and the mouth watering puffs of steam coming from the variety of sweet potatoes, cranberries and other vegetables as they perk along in their pans and casseroles, to add to a feast for your nose? I know I won’t. I feel great sorrow for those who eat their Thanksgiving feast in a restaurant. The best part of the Macy Parade is the aroma wafting from the kitchen. No one should ever live a whole life without the experience. There really ought to be a law.

Thanksgiving ~Then

Thanksgiving sixty years ago was an international holiday in our family. We always started off with early munchies of stuffed celery, little fried meatballs on a pick, varieties of olives and of course veggies to dip in tazza ’n berra. Homemade bread sticks were never turned down, either!

Of course, there were no parades or football games on TV…hmmmm, there were no TV’s! I do remember playing in the snow, when it snowed, and visiting at my paternal grandpa's house, next door, or my maternal grandparents home across the street, in between getting under foot while Mom was preparing the dinner. The radio was always going, and if the weather was really bad, I’d play with my cutouts and of course, there were my beloved books to peruse while munching the canapés, waiting for the turkey to roast. Sometimes we’d get together with one or another of my cousins’ families, and that was always a lot of fun.

When it came time to have dinner, we were all more than ready for it, and we had better be! It seemed then that no meal was ‘special’ unless it included homemade noodles with a wonderful tomato sauce; therefore, that was always our first course. Of course a huge bowl of tossed salad was always front and center, to go with the pasta and on into the turkey and all the fixings.

After the pasta, the big old turkey was brought out, golden brown and steaming, to be carved by Dad. There was usually giblet stuffing in the bird, and a casserole of celery & raisin dressing baked separately, for those who liked crispy, crusty dressing. Yes, we had candied yams, and fluffy mashed potatoes just waiting to have the rich, brown turkey gravy (made from a roux and not a mix ~ who knew ‘mixes’?) poured all over them.

We didn’t do green bean casserole; our favorite was peas, even if they were only from a can in those days. We had jellied cranberry sauce from a can and cranberry orange relish made ‘fresh’. We made our own Parker House rolls, and without fail, homemade bread was always on hand. The platters went round and round, and the food went down and down.

Even though everyone was groaning “I ate too much!” no one got up and left when the main course was cleared off and the pies were brought to the table. They were still warm (I can’t believe we baked the pies on Thanksgiving morning then and we still were having dinner by one p.m.!), waiting for a scoop of vanilla ice cream or a huge dollop of fresh whipped cream to intensify their sweet promise. Dad loved mincemeat pie, so Mom always made one of those. I could never get past the thought of ‘meat’ in a pie, no matter how many times anyone told me it wasn’t meat, meat. I never turned down apple, pumpkin or pecan pie, though. In fact, not too long after having dessert and clearing up, I’d be having just a ‘sliver’ of each again… to check if they were really as good as I thought they were the first time. And I was as skinny as a rail. Go figure? I still do today, skinny be danged!

Hubby, my mother, and a 'piece' of 8 year old Lori
This was Thanksgiving 1965. Dad had passed away at age 58 in July.)

(THANKSGIVING NOW follows below.)