It crushed my heart when my daughter-in-law threw away the Thanksgiving dinner that I had spent hours preparing, but my granddaughter, who was 14 years old at the time, was not going to let her get away with it.
Since I was a child, I have held the belief that Thanksgiving is more than just a holiday; it is an expression of love. There is the aroma of a turkey that is being roasted, the aroma of rolls that are dripping with butter, the sound of laughing that fills the home, and the sensation of bringing people together over food that you have put your heart into preparing.
In addition to being recipes, the dishes that I prepare are also pieces of my own past. My mother was the one who taught me how to cook turkey, and she insisted that the key was to be patient and allow lots of basting. Over the course of several years, I worked on perfecting my pecan pie by adjusting the proportions of brown sugar and butter until the filling developed a silky texture and the crust became exceptionally crisp. When it comes to the mashed potatoes, stuffing, and cranberry sauce, I have perfected them to the point where even the slightest modifications feel off since they are an integral part of who I am.
Hosting, on the other hand, is not a simple operation. My knees are already expressing their displeasure by the time I have finished peeling potatoes, mixing gravy, and wrestling the bird into the oven. As the day comes to a close, I find that my hands are stiff and my back is aching. However, the effort is well worth it. “Grandma, your food tastes like love,” which is something that my granddaughter Lily has been telling me for years. When she says that, my heart feels a little lighter, and my exhaustion seems to be a little less important. This happens every time she says it.
Even before the day arrived, I had a feeling that something was going to go wrong this year. Serena, who is my daughter-in-law, has never been the most particular admirer of either my cooking or my cooking. Dishes that are considered “modern,” store-bought sides, and quick, fashionable dinners that she finds online are her preferred options. Despite the fact that she has never directly insulted my meal, I have observed the courteous grin that she wears when she tastes it, as well as the manner in which she move the stuffing to the side of her plate. As for my eyebrow being raised in response to her “pumpkin spice quinoa salad” during Christmastime, I am certain that she has noticed it.
I am fortunate that my son Marcus and my daughter Lily enjoy my food. Exactly one week prior, Lily had inquired about the possibility of me instructing her on how to make my pie crust. I assured her that I would, but I cautioned her that doing so would leave her with hair that was coated in flour and sticky countertops. There was a chuckle and a “Deal” from her.
By the time it was three o’clock in the afternoon on Thanksgiving Day, I was completely exhausted but utterly content. The turkey had reached the ideal level of golden brownness, the pie was taking its time cooling on the counter, and the sides had been seasoned to perfection. I had prepared so much food that it was impossible to store it all in the refrigerator in my kitchen, so part of the dishes were stored in the extra refrigerator that was located in the garage.
As I was in the process of preparing the table, I became aware of the front door being opened.
“Mom! ” Yes, we are here! The upbeat tone of Marcus’s speech reverberated into the corridor.
My eyes darted to the clock as I was taken aback. “You’re quite early!”
The first person to make an appearance was Serena, who was dressed in a cream sweater dress, her hair was nicely curled, and she was wearing heels that no reasonable person would want to wear while working in the kitchen. “Greetings, Margaret,” she said, barely making eye contact with me. It was our intention to arrive early and lend a hand.
My hand was so full of the serving spoon that I almost dropped it. In all of the 10 years that Serena had been married to Marcus, she had never once provided assistance with preparing a meal for the family.
Following closely behind her, Lily sprinted in with a gleaming smile and bright eyes. Greetings, Grandma! After receiving a bear embrace from her, I immediately felt a sense of comfort and kept her close to me.
One of Serena’s hands was clapped. Now, what options do I have?
I was uncertain as to whether this was a genuine olive branch or something else different. I hesitated until I was certain. Marcus smiled at me in a way that was reassuring. Please, Mom, allow her to participate in this. You’ve already accomplished more than you should have.”
I spoke carefully and said, “Well… alright.” “Serena, you are welcome to watch the turkey while I take a moment to freshen up,” she said.
On the second floor, my strategy was straightforward: I would splash some water on my face and perhaps rest my legs for a short while. However, as soon as I sat down on the bed, I felt a wave of tiredness wash over me, and my eyes automatically closed.
I was able to tell that I had slept for a longer period of time than I had intended to by the faint murmur of voices and the clink of cutlery when I woke up.
My voice mumbled, “Oh no,” as I hurried down the stairs.
I was frozen in the doorway of the dining room. There were already people dining at the table, which was completely full. The meal was complimented by our relatives, and Serena, who was sitting at the head of the table, smiled sweetly as she listened.
As Helen, my sister-in-law, bit into her slice of turkey, she remarked, “This turkey is absolutely delicious.”
Serena radiated happiness. “I am grateful to you! I put in a lot of effort into it.”
I blinked my eyes in incredulity. Worked very hard? It did not appear that any of this was my food. The mashed potatoes presented a lumpy and dry texture. Herbs that I would never use were scattered throughout the stuffing. The pecan pie that I had made, which was a gorgeous pie, was nowhere to be found.
As the knot in my gut continued to build, I carefully made my way into the kitchen. Initially, it was the aroma that struck me: turkey, sweet potatoes… as well as something disagreeable. As I lifted the lid of the garbage can, I found that my breath stopped.
The dishes that I had prepared were there, buried behind the coffee grinds and napkins; they were still in their containers and had not been used at all.
“What’s up, Grandma?” It was Lily who spoke to me from behind me.
I turned around to see her standing in the doorway, her eyes widened with comprehension as she looked at me.
“She threw it all out when you were upstairs,” she muttered, her voice tight with rage. “Everything was thrown out.”
While I was staring at her, my hands began to shake. Why would she do that?
Lily’s frown softened into a slight smile as she stated, “Don’t worry,” interrupting the conversation. “I was able to complete it.”
“What exactly do you mean?”
Her eyes shone with a gleam. Trust me, that’s all. What are you waiting for? You are going to want to watch this.
After that, she took me back to the dining room.
Marcus’s brow was furrowed as he chewed deliberately and carefully. Am I the only one who finds this… to be quite salty?
A reach was made by Helen for her water. The flavor is not simply salty; it is also brackish. Just like the ocean.”
While he was trying the stuffing, my brother-in-law, Jeff, grimaced in discomfort. “This has the potential to preserve a shipwreck.”
A smirk appeared on Serena’s face. “Oh my goodness! I must have used too much seasoning in this dish. Simply put, I was in a hurry to get things off the ground.
Beneath the table, Lily gave my knee a gentle poke. She muttered, “Try it,” while hardly containing a smile on her face.
With apprehension, I took a little bite out of the bird. Because the salt caused my tongue to burn, I had no choice but to go for my water right away. It was difficult for me to maintain a straight expression.
Other people around the table did not appear to be as composed. With a groan, Helen put her fork down on the table. A mummy-related muttering was heard coming from Jeff. There was a rosy blush on Serena’s cheeks.
At that point, I made the decision to intervene.
I brightened up and remarked, “Well,” while mopping my mouth, “let’s not make a big deal out of a single minor mistake.” It’s not easy to feed a large group of people.
Marcus appeared to be relieved. That is exactly right. For all of Serena’s hard work, let us raise a glass to her.
“Oh, without a doubt,” I concurred, my tone of voice lusciously sweet. In addition, because I had a hunch that we would require a backup plan, I made sure to prepare some additional food in case we ended up needing it.
When Serena smiled, it became rigid. “You got it?”
“Yes,” I responded while standing. Are you able to assist me in bringing it in from the refrigerator in the garage, Marcus?
The sight of my dishes still sitting there, unwashed, brought a smile to my face as I strolled through the garage. While lifting the heavy roasting pan, Marcus smiled and shook his head in a satisfied manner. “Mom, you are absolutely amazing.”
As soon as we got back, I started putting together the table with my golden turkey, creamy mashed potatoes, flavorful stuffing, and my well-known pecan pie. The room was filled with audible expressions of gratitude.
Helen clapped her hands together and exclaimed, “This appears to be absolutely incredible.”
When Jeff joked, “Finally, food we can eat,” he elicited a ripple of laughs from the audience.
The lips of Serena were drawn together in a narrow line. It was Margaret who said, “You didn’t have to do all that,” and she was right.
However, I was able to observe Lily’s pride from other side of the table. She was completely aware of what she had done and the reasons behind it.
It appeared that the tension gradually dissipated after everyone had eaten until they were completely satisfied. After some time had passed, Serena entered the kitchen as I was wrapping leftovers in aluminum foil.
“I’m sorry,” she added in a hurried manner. “I should not have thrown out whatever you were eating. It occurred to me that perhaps it was too… traditional. It was my intention to experiment with something new, but I went about it in the wrong spirit.
After observing her for a brief period of time, I became aware of how challenging those words were for her. “Thank you very much for apologizing, Serena…” Even if things did not go the way you had hoped, I am aware that you were making an effort to be of assistance.
Just before she disappeared, she gave a single nod.
A few moments later, Lily reappeared while she was balancing two pie plates. With a grin on her face, she conveyed to her grandmother, “Your food saved Thanksgiving.”
I let out a quiet laugh. It’s not true, love; you did it.
“This is something that Mom will never forget,” she replied with a sly grin on her face.
“Perhaps not,” I concurred while hugging her back. “But the fact that you defended me is the most important thing. The significance of something is beyond your comprehension.
As I turned down the lights in the kitchen that evening, I came to the realization that the day had not gone according to plan; but, in the end, it did not make a difference. There was nothing that could compare to the intense and devoted love that my granddaughter has for me. Not even the cuisine, the tradition, or even the perfect turkey.
