It’s been a few days since Thanksgiving, I know. But I am still thankful, and it’s better to post late than never, am I right?
My family flew me out for the holiday, which was unexpected and tons of fun. I was able to do some cooking of my own, but mostly I ate my mom’s food, which (as anyone will attest) is the best food ever.
I woke up Thursday morning and was tasked with tackling sweet potatoes. Somehow, some way, they needed to be incorporated into the meal. (For the pre-diabetics among us.) I was handed a bag of sweet potatoes…
… and found a starchy white yam imposter among the mix.
Diced up with some fresh rosemary — only my mother would grow herbs during the dead of winter — and tomatoes, these sweet potatoes (and the lonely yam) became a roasted winter veggie side.
Going home is always a great experience, because it reminds me where my foodie roots come from. When I asked my mother for an onion to chop, she led me to the pantry, opened a dark little box and asked, “What kind?” as though it were totally normal to have a little jewel box of perfect, shining onions.
Even my dad pitched in, smoking a rack of ribs for 4 hours in case there were hungry diners looking for a protein other than the ever-present turkey.
“Erin,” my dad said to me earnestly. “Take a picture and send this to Biker Bill, will you? He’s the master. He’d know how awesome this is.”
Biker Bill, one of my old culinary school friends, would indeed be proud, or so I imagine. My dad relating to my culinary school friends will forever make me smile. He asks about them frequently, even when I haven’t heard from them in weeks.
Truly, I can’t express what an unsung hero of a hostess my mother is. She pulls of Thanksgiving without flaw every year.
It was a night full of Thomas Edison fun facts, card tricks and a fabulous feast. I was able to spend time with family I hadn’t seen in years. While a big storm blew outside in the Wyoming cold, we all sat around the fire, drinking wine and laughing.
We followed up the night with a trip to Kohls, where Black Friday had bled into Thursday night. My darling Abuelita, determined to act as she had seen on TV, kept nudging me and mumbling, “Should we push her? Where is all the pushing?”
It was a fun, amusing Thanksgiving to say the least.
Here’s to hoping your holiday was just as fun! May the upcoming December season be twice as great.