Two stories from this Thanksgiving, aka, the great gravy debacle. I'm the mashed potato maker and my sister makes great gravy. This year the turkey was in the oven a bit too long, was dry, and there was an abundance of pan drippings. Jodi was in gravy making heaven. We had so much that she left over half in the saucepan, which for some reason she put in the sink. You know where this is going. After eating my dad cleared his plate and put it on top of the pan in the sink, covering it. I proceeded to wash my hands in that half of the sink. We soon figured out the gravy was full of soap. Oh boy, there were some sad gravy faces as we dumped the gravy in the garbage. The next day Jodi had to make gravy with "the bag of stuff that was with the turkey" (as my mom called it). I didn't want to know what that bag of stuff was, so I chose not the watch the second gravy making.
The next is about my nephew, Andrew. He has definite ideas about what he likes to eat. On Thanksgiving it's just turkey legs and pumpkin pie. No sides. Except rolls. Well, I told my mom the week before that we probably don't need rolls, since there's stuffing and all the other sides. We sit down, Andrew gets his legs and asks where the rolls are. My mom sighs and says, "Jill said we didn't need bread. . . " and repeated that at least three times during the meal. I offered to make toast. He said it wasn't a big deal. More sighs from mom.
Next year I'm taking a cue from Charlie Brown Thanksgiving and setting out a plate of toast, stick pretzels, popcorn and jelly beans. And I bet more than one person will eat some of it. It's my plan for a new tradition. . . since the scalloped corn I made this year wasn't well received. That's another story.
