A couple of years ago I wrote a blogpost about Thanksgiving Through the Years. As much as one year blends into another, when you take a step back you see that it has evolved. This year it will take another step forward as I am hosting for the first time.
When we bought our four-bedroom Colonial a quarter of a century ago we did so with the anticipation of filling all the bedrooms and hosting many large parties. Neither prophesy came true. We've hosted some parties, but I feel we hosted more in our tiny rowhome than we do in suburbia. When we do host, I prefer spring and summer when guests can stretch into the backyard and form clusters of conversations. The food starts on the kitchen countertop and spreads to the kitchen table. Eating is a free for all.
Thanksgiving, though, is different. It involves breakable dishes, and everyone needs a seat at a table.
Thanksgiving dinners are fraught with expectations. Even if you are a new addition (through relationships), you bring your past Thanksgivings to the table. To the room.
With ten days to go, I've created a list of food and realized just how much work my mom has been putting into this each year.
My concerns are trying to cater to everyone's food preferences, while making sure there are things I like to eat.
Fourteen people. One cannot eat dairy and raw vegetables. One is gluten-free. One is vegetarian. One won't be in the room with food smells. Several don't care. May someone offer to wash some dishes, unless I decide I'm afraid of the china breaking.
Yes, my dishwasher is broken. I could opt for paper plates and no one but me would care, but I would really care. If I'm doing this, I'm doing it right. Gosh darn it.
Happy Thanksgiving. See you on the flip side.
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