Feasting

Food is and always has been the glue of my family. Thanksgiving is just a bigger feast in a long, long line of feasting. My mother, though she worked full time, cooked the family dinner every night when I was a child. While sometimes they were simple suppers -- sloppy Joes or hamburgers -- often they were complete nutritional meals including every dish from each level of the food pyramid.

And there was ALWAYS dessert.

In my teenage years, my parents dove into gourmet cooking flipping crepes in their Julia Child crepe pan or creating jiggling aspics in their tiered Jello mold. They prepared gastronomical extravaganzas for their friends and purchased expensive wines to pair with their poached fish or rack of lamb. As the meals grew in complicated ingredients, so did the desserts. Chocolate pudding gave way to Tiramisu; cake and ice cream turned into a layered fruit trifle.

Thanksgiving was always an overabundance of food, but in the past decade, they have also included a circle of friends who as much family as they are friends.

This year we held the dinner at Ann and Jan's house. This was their first hosting, but it was no less extravagant than when it was held at my parents' house or at Jim and Kay's home. We shifted to Jan and Ann's place for a number of reasons. In the past, my parents and the Morgans (Jim and Kay) volleyed the tradition back and forth -- one year at my parents' home, the next year at the Morgan's. With Jim's passing, Kay made the choice to spend time with her step-children (Jim's kids) in California. Though we missed Kay (and Jim, of course), it was understandable that she would want to spend her first Thanksgiving holiday without Jim with something more biologically familial.

When Jim passed, Ann and Jan stepped up and offered their home for the next feast. It was the start of something new and different enough to help us all move forward while remembering the joys of the past. Before our dinner, we toasted Jim (and Kay), acknowledging, as is often the case in life, the trail of the past and its connection to the present. Though Jim and Kay were not present, they were there in many, many ways though no one attempted cooking brussel sprouts, Jim's specialty!

We ate, as we always do, and we complimented each other for the various dishes we brought to the table. We laughed, we talked positively for the first time in a long time about politics, and we giggled at the antics of the three dogs -- Rubin (ours) and Murphy and Tucker (Jan and Ann's). Rubin, in typical fashion, was nervous at first, but once he realized that the people in this kitchen drop food on the floor just like at home, he settled in a bit more.

Murphy made herself comfortable. As the oldest, she found a lap for snuggling or an empty chair at the dinner table for begging. In the picture below, she snagged my seat while I excused myself to the bathroom.
Tucker played and busied himself by following Rubin around and then, when everyone had finally settled, he tucked himself into the back of the couch in a perfect post-feast pose.

Rubin, on the other hand, worried slightly that he might get left behind so he kept track of us throughout the evening. When we finally returned back to my parents' house, he curled up at Grandpa's feet and let out a sigh of feasting relief.
We came home with leftovers and just yesterday, finished up the turkey (Rubin helped). Traditions don't change dramatically in our family -- we eat well, we laugh hard, and we enjoy each others company -- but traditions do shift, as they did this year -- new house, painful losses, and no brussel sprouts. Still, there is glue in this extended family and as always, it centers around the amazing food upon which we feast.