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ramblings

Turkey 2002
2002.11.29

Thanksgiving has always been a special time for my family. It's one of those few times when we actually come together and try to harmonize as a unit. My parents are getting older and more feeble. My brother is off in his fast-paced lifestyle a few hundred miles away. And I'm off doing my own thing---though I'm physically more accessible to my parents. But for just a few hours we're back again in the same room at the same table. It may be brief, but it's something I look forward to.
The Chan Family Tradition has been to do a typical American Thanksgiving where we get everyone together for most of the day. We all pitch in doing preparation in the morning, we get the turkey (or whatever meat-of-the-year we're having) into the oven in the early afternoon, late afternoon we're eating, followed by clean up, a nap, and dessert. It's a pretty laid back day.

I ambled into the house around noonish and my parents were milling about the kitchen. I couldn't directly see them but my Mom heard me close the front door.

Mom:"Oh, hi _______! You're early."

I guess I was. I didn't know when I was supposed to arrive so I was shooting for the late morning sometime. Apparently I came in at an opportune time. I dropped my backpack and slipped out of my shoes.
The preparations were already starting to happen with my Dad chopping at some veggies and Mom running around collecting things. Even though it was just the two of them there was a certain electricity brewing. I washed my hands.
Mom welcomed me in, told me to relax, and asked if I had breakfast already. I reminded her that I never really do, but she insisted and insisted. She waved her hand around the kitchen saying there was plenty to eat. So I looked at our kitched table and found a fresh loaf of bread still in its plastic wrapping. I had a hand in the bag when she turned to me:

"Oh, that's going to be part of the stuffing. But ... I guess ... you can have a slice."

I was thinking: gee, thanks, you tell me I can have just about anything and then you take away my first choice?

I got a piece of bread and went to go find some butter. (Now you have to remember that I'm allergic to nuts but my parents both devour them.) My Mom helped me open the fridge and she started rumaging through all the tubs of butter, margarine, and other butter substitutes. (She needs to find me a "new" or "clean" one because all the others probably have bits of nuts or peanut butter in them.)

"Hm, we've used all of these butters. I guess I don't have a new one for you..."

Oh great, no butter? I'll eat it dry, thanks. I rolled my eyes. I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and opened the fridge to look for milk. I spied a quart of 2% and grabbed that. From behind me I heard my Mom's voice again:

"Um, we're going to use that milk for the mashed potatoes..."

I replaced the carton and closed the door.

Me: "Fine then, I'll get a glass of water, if that's OK with you? You're not going to run out of water are you? And, mind if I use the toaster? I have permission for that?"

I took my lonely warm piece of dry toast and my tiny glass of filtered water to the kitchen island to eat. I'm starting to make conversation while she's running in and out. A couple minutes go by and I'm about halfway through the dry, boring, now-cool bread when she stops and looks at me and exclaims:

"C'mon, _____! Don't dilly-dally! We've got lots of work to do!"

I stopped, then just shook my head at her with a stupid incredulous grin. At that point I blurted:

"Aiyaaa---!!! You welcome me in, offer all your breakfast stuff to me, then tell me everything that I want to eat is off-limits? What the...? It's like I'm in some sort of prison wh-where, where, the only thing I have to eat is bread and water! On top of that you told me I could relax but now you're telling me to go faster just so you can force me into hard labor? What gives?!"

At about this point she was rolling with laughter. My Mom is funny. She gave me a half-hug, I was moping. I did a fake sniffle. (*sniff* *sniff*)
      A few minutes later I started slicing potatoes. (Yes, the mashed potatoes we made was pretty much by hand.) Dad was dicing up an onion, my brother was nowhere to be seen---I was told he went hiking out with some old high school and junior college buddies. So, it was just Mom, Dad, and I. And a 17 lbs. turkey. Yes, 17 lbs. For only 4 people. And we don't eat much anymore. OMG. It was huge. We've had larger birds before but we've also had a larger number of people. This was insanely big for us. I could already see the future: I would be taking half of this turkey home as leftovers.
      I did do something a little different this year: I helped clean the turkey. I held the bag over the side of the sink and slit it open with some nearby scissors. I watched the liquids run out and then I opened the rest of the bag. Mom washed out the other half of the sink and we dumped the bird into it. Mom then searched around the inside of the turkey for bags and "stuff". She found "stuff" and we tossed it into a small garbage can---she did not find any extra plastic bags. It got to a point, however, where there was a piece of the turkey we thought should have been removed. She tried with a knife and couldn't, I did did too. So I got out the kitchen shears (I love these scissors!) and was able to quickly cut through the unwanted piece. Into the can the unwanted bits went to join the growing "Stuff Collective".
      The turkey was a cold motionless slimy lump and heavy to boot. I sprayed it inside and out with cold water then pat it dry with a paper towel. My Dad warned that there usually are small plastic bags inside of the turkeys full of bonus "stuff" that people use for stews. I felt around as I was drying and didn't feel anything usual. So the butter was applied after the bird was a bit drier.
      We used one of these Reynolds Oven Bags. I held up the meat while Mom slid the bag on. Then she realized that she hadn't added flour. So we had to extract the turkey from the bag again. (Do you know what it's like trying to hold a cold, wet, buttered turkey? And I've been getting weaker too!) Flour in the bag, shake, then turkey back in. Finally the whole thing popped into the oven.
      The potatoes were done simmering by now. Water drained, the potatoes went into a large pot to be pulverized. I smashed and folded them until they were a creamy consistency. A little butter, a little salt to taste, and a little milk. (Sheesh, we hardly used any milk! I could have had milk earlier!) I tasted it: bland. Mom tasted it: bland. My prodigal brother returned and tasted it: bland. So I kept adding salt to it and stirring it in. At some point my Mom said it was fine and I couldn't taste the salt at all---thank you spironolactone! I stopped and transferred the mixture elsewhere.

I took a break while my brother started his shift in the kitchen doing the stuffing. I was going to Blog and Ramble, but I got caught up watching The Matrix. At one point Neo is visiting the Oracle and she points to a sign above the doorway which reads "Temet Nosce":

"You know what that is? It's Latin. It means 'know thyself'."

Indeed.

At some point we called up Grandma who is 86 years old and still recovering from her strokes. She'll never be the same, I know. It's at least good that she can now speak a little. I made out most of the words. She's doing a lot better since I saw her in August.

Late afternoon the food was just about done. The table was set and dusk was fast approaching. Mom lit a few candles, put a flowery centerpiece on the table, and I poured out some Martinelli's Sparkling Apple-Cranberry. Dad carved out the turkey---and subsequently found the hidden plastic bag of "stuff" jammed up in there. (Oops. We have a quality control problem.) It was the calm before the storm, so to speak
Mom called out that the food was ready and we all headed over to the kitchen. We each got a plate and loaded up with tons of food. Back to the candlelit table we went. We toasted and then the dining room as a clatter of silverware on china and random conversation. It was probably the first time we had been like this since last year.
About half an hour later the energy totally dissipated and we waddled back to the kitchen to toss the plates in the dishwasher. Then it was nap time.

We were full and tired. The family room chairs called out to me and I sort of watched TV sideways.
Sometime around 8:00-ish Mom brought out a pie for dessert. We munched a little, talked a little. Not much else happened. I packed up three containers of leftovers, hugged them goodbye, and drove home.

It sometimes makes me sad to know that I may not have experiences like this again. People have asked me if I had a good Thanksgiving and I have to respond that I have a very good Thanksgiving. Too good, in some respects. I don't try to take much in life for granted and this is definitely one thing I will miss. Maybe I'll not be here next year, or maybe I will. The whole year will be a very interesting year.

Happy Thanksgiving!