It is November. An exciting month for North Americans, well the ones who live in the 50 stars and stripes anyway, Thanksgiving, ooh aahhh. Can you all tell how I am looking forward to the turkey fest. Here is the low down on my families celebration of gastronomical gluttony, where to start though?
The turkey trot is a 10k ‘fun run’ that my brother drags us to every year, although I manage to sleep through it most years. It begins the day at about 5:30 when we head downtown to Detroit in the freezing cold. The run is along the parade route where people begin to gather at about 6am to see half dressed cheerleaders, marching bands as they, and of course the floats and giant turkey balloon (yes I am purposefully leaving out the big man in red). After this fun filled frigid adventure the crew comes back to the neighborhood to veg and eat before running off to a football game they know we will loose, the Lions are not a great football team.
While all this goes on I slave away, albeit by choice, in the kitchen to bake pies. Yes I make them from scratch, the pumpkin comes out of a vegetable and not a can (or is it a fruit?), and the apples are sliced and spiced by my own two hands. The dough, which often makes me want to throw my hands up in frustration, is never the same from year to year as my dough recepies never last a year. I’m not sure why this happens, I don't alter the recipes, but at some point around August the recipe that I have had great success with for months begins to implode, and no it is not attractive.
I do this by choice, I enjoy the aggravation and process of making things that will be eaten and enjoyed by those whom I care for. So what is different this year? They don’t want my pies. While this should not devastate me, it does. Here is the reason; my family and I have almost nothing in common. For years I have been the odd man out, the one no one understands. Now I am religious while my family is not. They cannot understand what has become of their liberal speaking free spirited family member. I keep telling them I'm still here, but they don't seem to believe me, and yes I am slightly less liberal than I was, but hey who would not choose the republicans over the democrats at least ¼ of the times?
The one thing I bring to the feast, one I cannot partake of, is the dessert. It is my only contribution to this otherwise torturous event. The meal is a roast where everyone is given a turn in the hot seat and my turn seems to outlast everyone else’s. Why do I go? I hate the event. It makes me nuts year after year. Oh I forgot to mention people come in from out of state and country for the turkey. It is the event of the year; only this year they want nothing from me. They want my presence as the butt of the jokes and as a punching bag, but not what I can give them. This year I will be bringing nothing, my pies will go unmade and my one contribution to this family gathering is no longer wanted.
Happy thanksgiving everyone.