thanksgiving day

Thanksgiving Day. The one holiday I treasure and love more than any other day in the year. Sorry not sorry, Christmas. You're just a little too quiet for me. Maybe that'll change when I have my own family one day, but for now, it's Thanksgiving. I'll tell you why I am obsessed with this holiday.

Where do I even begin? This is a day of camaraderie that's both crazy and wonderful from sun up to sun down. It comes at such an opportune time right after midterms. Alas, a day to sleep in. I wake up to the sound of my mama in the kitchen, already prepping up a storm for the feast of the year. Although last year, I woke up to the smell of something burning and my brother peeking his head into my bedroom, informing me he'd burnt a pot. I'm forever holding it against him for waking me up at eight in the morning on the one day I could've slept in.

On Thanksgiving, it's D-day in the kitchen. Mom turns into Chef Ma and I turn into the sous chef; there is no room for mistakes. There are forty people on the ever-growing guest list and they all need to be fed. Most importantly, if there is no turkey by the time everyone arrives then CM starts pulling out her hair and everything becomes a nightmare. There should be no one else in the kitchen except for the chef and her sous chef because CM likes her space. Any uncalled for assistance is usually promptly removed by force or bribing with free samples.

Other than the turkey, CM deals with all the Chinese dishes. I have the job of making all the traditional American dishes. I should mention that I am an unusual sous chef because I also am the official dishwasher and sampler. You would think the latter would be highly enjoyable, but no. When there is pressure mounting and CM repeatedly peppering you with questions you've already answered, it can be quite exhausting. Here are two scenarios that play throughout the afternoon:

Scene 1: [opens with CM frowning over some dish. I am washing dishes, lost in my own thought.]
CM: Hey try this. [shoves spoonful of unidentifiable substance into mouth]
Me: [snaps out of thought as food is forcibly shoved in mouth. Commence coughing]
CM: Is that good? Too salty? Not salty enough? I can't tell myself. [takes huge mouthful]
Me: [still coughing] Uhm, it's fine.
CM: So, is that too salty or does it need more salt?
Me: It's fine.
CM: Have another bite. It's too salty, right? I knew it was too salty.
Me: No, it's really fine.
CM: Really? I don't think it's salty enough. [adds more salt to unidentifiable substance] Now try it again.
Me: Now it's too salty.
CM: See? That's what I said!
Me: ...I can't win.

Scene 2 [opens with CM frowning over yet another dish]
CM: Is this salty? [spoon feeds me a bite of unidentifiable dish]
Me: No, it's not. It's just too spicy and not salty enough. You need to add more salt. It'll bring out the flavor. Right now, the spiciness is overwhelming.
CM: It doesn't taste good, right?
Me: No it's just too spicy.
CM: Oh dear, I shouldn't have made this. Do you think people will like it?
Me: It'll be fine.
CM: [samples again] It doesn't taste good.
Me: It's okay. Everyone will still eat it.
CM: Yeah, they love spicy anyway. I'm not adding anymore salt because it's already spicy.
Me: ...why we gotta have this conversation.

Then, around four, the cars start to arrive and friendly faces begin to trickle through the door; home cooked dishes still piping hot lay nestled in the crooks of their arms. Slowly, the house is coming alive. One way or another, my mother will get caught up in politely fending the guests from entering the kitchen and forget to take out the turkey. Smoke will start to billow out the oven and everyone will make a dash for the windows before the smoke alarm goes off. The 20-lb turkey will be extracted from the oven by a team of two and an army of cloths and oven mitts. Did it burn? Is it done? CM checks. A nod of approval is given. Everyone breathes a sigh of relief. The party goes on.

By five o' clock, approximately forty something people have managed to arrange themselves all around the house and the sound of laughter and talking is so thick in the air, people need to shout to hear each other. Children are running underfoot, slamming doors and hiding in forbidden rooms from having to be fed from their parents.

By this time, I am on my umpteenth plate of the most exotic mixture of Chinese food and turkey and gravy and everything that makes this day worth it. Near-empty casserole dishes, pots, and pans are loaded into the sink where generous hands pass them through hot soap suds and water. Chairs are being rearranged in our tiny living room. Music is passed out and for the next hour or so, there will be the sound of jolly voices and sharing.

By nine forty-five, people will start to filter out--the ones with the little children first, putting on their coats and looking for their shoes in the sea of footwear piled by our door. By ten thirty, everybody has left and the tables are being put away. The dishes are squeaky clean on the countertops. The vacuum is brought out. Knickknacks people have forgotten are put into a pile by the door, to be returned on Sunday. By eleven, I am lying in a food coma on my bed awaiting Black Friday.

Whew. Wishing you all a blessed Thanksgiving!