November 26, 2009
Few holiday moments compare with the brief anticipatory Thanksgiving Day pause when your dinner plate is arranged exactly the way you want. You’ve sprinkled the salt and pepper over the turkey; buttered the corn and dinner roll; arranged your foods so the cranberry sauce isn’t touching the stuffing; and poured the gravy into the mashed-potato swimming pool. That was how I arranged my meal, my fork hovered six inches above my plate. . . .
Then three little words from Penelope brought my culinary swoon to a screeching halt. “YIN YAN YAO!” I don’t know if any of you remember a TV program from the 1970s called “Emergency!” but it popped into my mind at that moment because every time paramedics Johnny Gage and Roy DeSoto sat down to eat dinner, the loudspeaker would blast: “Rampart 51! Rampart 51” and off they’d run to rescue some dopey teenager trapped in a sewer pipe with his pet alligator.
I’ll skip over the actual visit to the bathroom, but let me just note that by the time I stumbled my way back to the table with the toxic toddler, I wondered if my appetite would recover. Of course, it did. My sister Sue is a terrific cook, and my Mom makes the best pumpkin pie this side of the Great Pumpkin’s pumpkin patch.
I learned something new this Thanksgiving that I’m going to pass along to you. If you like wine, do yourself a favor and get an aerator. An aerator will expose more of the volume of the wine to the air, allowing the wine to breathe properly. You can pick one up for about $25, and trust me, you will be amazed at the improvement of the bouquet, taste and finish of your wine. We were using the aerator on everything from a decent Merlot to a bottle of Yellow Tail Pinot Grigio and comparing it to non-aerated wine. The difference was astounding. Oh, did I mention my sister and brother-in-law watch an awful lot of QVC?
Anyway, I discovered this Thanksgiving that my family isn’t very skilled when it comes to passing food around the table. Now, I know what you might be thinking: With all that aerated wine, everybody was too shellacked to pass food around. But that’s not true because only a few of us were drinking, and my daughter sobered me up plenty during her bathroom break. This poor familial food distribution skill means you better like what’s sitting in front of you. Naturally, I wound up seated beside the big heaping bowl of rutabaga, and all the turkey, mashed potatoes and stuffing were partying together at the opposite end of the table. But, I considered my wanderings around the table as an opportunity to work off a tiny bit of the meal. Now if only the table were a mile long, that might have actually worked.
But the best thing about Thanksgiving was finally getting my side of the family together under one roof for the first time in 13 years, and for Penelope to spend time with all her cousins. And while I thought for a moment that I heard my little Pop Tart pick up her toy cell phone and ask the Chinese embassy to take her back to the mother country and away from the insanity, I realized the tryptophan had indeed kicked in. Actually, this year we skipped the annual Thanksgiving tradition that puts everyone to sleep: watching the Detroit Lions.
Two days later, I squeezed myself behind the car steering wheel for the long slog back to New Jersey. We handled the 13-hour journey in one day, and Penelope was an angel through most of the car ride. (She did get a little cranky in West Virginia.) If she wasn’t sleeping or snacking, she kept picking up her toy cell phone to call Shu Shu (Uncle) Joe to babble her unique mix of Chinese and English. New bonds with family members formed or strengthened. Is there a better way to celebrate Thanksgiving?