Happy Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving Day is almost here - time to carve the turkey, tofurkey or if you’re at my family’s table - time to pass the antipasto, plate the lasagna then carve the almighty bird.  My family’s feasting ends when the chestnuts (always overcooked) have been eaten and the sambuca has been poured into the last cup of espresso.  An Irish Thanksgiving, through and through ;)  Each year - I try to incorporate a healthy dish to the holiday table which often goes untouched except for my supportive husband’s spoonful and my sons’ singular bites which are taken under silent protest because “who needs to hear Mom anyway?”  

I also always attempt to prepare a dish that is out of my family’s “comfort zone”. Each year - Martha Stewart creeps into my psyche and I become obsessed with making an oyster mushroom stuffing or puree of parsnip soup.  I begin my origami lessons of making turkey shaped cocktail napkins and plans for the perfect punch but this craziness dies down within a couple of weeks.  I resign myself to the idea of my family’s “typical” Thanksgiving meal and tell myself that in another life - my turkey napkins and parsnip puree will be not only be adored but expected each Thanksgiving.  It’s that desire to create the “perfect holiday” that actually prevents me from enjoying the real one.  I fall prey to the manufactured, photoshopped pictures of beautiful people sitting around the big, farm table under the giant oak tree, laden with twinkling lights and dangling mason jars.  There’s always a guy with hip eyeglasses wearing a boiled wool vest, a crisp oxford and tailored jeans sitting next to a woman who looks like she owns an art gallery, her hair in a soft chignon fastened with twigs from the majestic oak just behind her.  You can picture this, right? The rest of the crew are also impeccably dressed with the children sitting upright and attentive, no cranberry sauce staining their shirts.  A signature cocktail is being sipped by all and a labrador retriever sits by the oak tree quietly enjoying his own designer doggie bowl of parsnip soup. Time to close the latest issue of Martha Stewart Living and get to my family’s picturesque Thanksgiving scene:

Dad will be sporting a smart, black or brown velour jumpsuit and sitting near the tv, watching Al Roker man the mic at the Thanksgiving Day Parade.  Fine china, crystal water glasses,  a bowl of grated parmigiano reggiano and a gravy (the “red” kind of gravey) boat are patiently waiting for us at the dining room table.  Mom and I will be sipping champagne (too much) and working in the kitchen, sampling various dishes we’re preparing and kvetching about the turkey being a “dirty bird” and somehow we’ll manage to take a bite or two just to please my Dad’s efforts on the main event that’s roasting in the oven.  My husband? He’ll be planted on the couch - seasonal beer in hand and repeatedly telling my youngest son to stop jumping on the furniture.  He may also be wishing he had the remote control or even that he was sitting on his own couch at home, preferably alone :)   Everyone will indulge in antipasto, comment on the sharpness of the provolone, the thinly sliced salami and the amazing roasted peppers. By now - my Mom and I will have switched to wine and have forgotten to make the salad - something we neglect to make every year.  It’s clearly the champagne buzz that helps us to forget washing the greens but we will happily tell each other it’s one less dish to clean when dinner is over.   My sons will be running up and down my parents’ staircase, banging away on the piano, playing pool, cranking their tunes on the stereo, playing football indoors, being handed dollar bills by my Dad and eating fresh mozzarella and olives like the animals they are.

My Mom and I (sis will be in San Diego this year) will create a frenetic energy in the kitchen, cooking, washing, cleaning, and refilling our wine glasses.  Occasionally, we’ll ask if anyone needs anything but we’ll be deep in conversation, laughing at the kids’ craziness and marveling at how tall they’re growing and how short we’re getting.

Once the dirty bird and all the trimmings are ready we’ll take our seats at the table (did I tell you we had the lasagna already?) and strap the feedbag on again. When dinner is over and my sons have sat at the dining room table for as long as they can bear it - we’ll make coffee - bring out the pastries and pies and oh yes, finally remember that the chestnuts are STILL in the oven.  They will be overcooked and in keeping with our Thanksgiving traditions, they will be dry.  We will still eat a few and say, “it wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without the chestnuts”.  Well -  it wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without my family, our Italian spin on the pilgrims’ meal, a good buzz off champagne and Al Roker on tv.  My desire to be under that oak tree will disappear as I look around me and feel profound gratitude for the blessings I have in my life.  Whatever Thanksgiving scenario you experience - I wish you a blessed, memorable one this year.  For those who will be actually enjoying a parsnip soup, save me the recipe.  I will try it in my next life.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

**For inspiration and strategies to truly enjoy your holidays, join Tri Embrace on Dec 4th at Anytime Fitness! Click here to register for this FREE workshop on how to Soothe Holiday Stress!