It is all about the food

And I don’t know why I don’t make that more than once a year.  My sausage and wild rice dressing.  Davis finally decided this year he actually liked it.  It might have had something to do with the fact that I will eat it cold out of the bowl as I am mixing it, or that it has rice in it, or that my brother has to have it a Thanksgiving. or perhaps it is just that good.  To be truthful and not boastful, it is pretty darn good. It is the kind of dish that will make you want to stand up and slap your mamma. And what’s not to love:  butter, wild rice, fresh bread crumbs, sausage and more sausage and more sausage, pecans, onions, celery, dried cherries.  While it is not complicated to make, it is time consuming.  And maybe that’s why I only make it once a year.  The recipe has evolved over time.  It started out as a recipe I copied years ago from an old Gourmet magazine. I have tweaked and added and taken away, and to be honest I probably never really make it the same way twice.  I don’t have the recipe written down and probably should.  I make it in the same bowl my grandmother, (my namesake), made her dressing in. I only use that bowl once a year.  It is an old white Pyrex bowl with an aqua design on the side.  They were produced in the 1950s.  This year my sister in law about fell out of her chair when she learned exactly how much butter and how much cream I put in my mashed potatoes and you don't want to know.

I was sitting in rounds Wednesday morning when it occurred to me.  The attending physician started rounds by asking – “So, what dishes does your family have to have at Thanksgiving?  And how many generations old are the recipes?”  At first the interns and residents thought it a trick question.  It is an odd question to start morning rounds with.  Most of the time the questions are more along the lines of, “Please tell the group the hallmark features of Wernike’s encephalopathy, the incidence, morbidity and mortality rates, as well as the treatment plan.”  They just all kind of stared at the attending and held their collective breaths to see what it was he really meant.  To be honest, on the day before a major holiday, when the hospital is full and staffing is skeletal at best, it was kind of a nice change of pace.  I do have to admit, I was a little taken aback too.  My initial thought was, “ I really am feeling the love right now, but we have a lot to do today, and maybe now isn’t the best time for sharing.”

There are things we only do once a year.  And there are foods we only eat once a year.  There are places we only go once a year.  And there are people that we only see once a year.  And that is what holds families together.  Those thin places where past, present and future all stand side by side.  Where joy and sorrow meet.  Where we are grateful for each hand we hold and blessed that we are even able.  Where we are grateful for what is understood, what is forgiven. And it is here that we learn that you end up loving because you gave. And it is here that you learn that time is precious and none of us know how much of it we even have and it seems like only yesterday we were doing the things we only do once a year. 

The power or ritual and the power of tradition are what make our life make sense.  Corn pudding will make your life make sense.  Eating oyster dressing (and I never will but I can tell you how to make it) will make your life make sense.  Eating that same cranberry salad your Aunt Jane makes will make your life make sense when nothing does.  Sometimes the only stable ground we stand on is our traditions.  Sometimes the only thing that seems to hold us together is mashed potatoes and limas and green bean casserole made with those imitation onions and cream of mushroom soup in a can. (And in case you are wondering I won’t eat that either).  And the truth is, while I love the turkey my brother cooks on his green egg cooker and I always say I am going to get him to cook one for me before the next Thanksgiving roles around, I never do.  And to be honest, I am not sure it would taste as good if I did eat more than once before the third Thursday in November.