[Lynda’s note: I’m off today celebrating the Easter holiday at a family dinner, so I’m leaving you with a post I originally wrote back in November 2011 after our family’s Thanksgiving dinner. It’s appropriate today as well, since we’re gathering again around the table. Have a great weekend!]
I come from a family where gravy is considered a beverage. ~ Erma Bombeck
It’s that time of year again. That week where the focus is one of giving thanks, being thankful for all the things we have (and for those that we do not have as well). As Thanksgiving comes around, so does the remembering of holidays past.
For many, including me, a lot of those great memories revolve around the dinners that are served, the time spent with family gathered around the table. And that table — full of favorite foods and special ones, too, ones that only appear at Thanksgiving and Christmas. The sounds of cheery conversation are underscored with strains of holiday music. And wafting over all of that are the aromas of the dinner to come.
The centerpiece of many a holiday dinner, especially at Thanksgiving, is the turkey (and no, not the one crazy relative who, in all likelihood, is a turkey…..). This year we’re having another mammoth turkey. I kid you not – it looks like a young child (and not really that young!). Rumor has it the bird this year weighs in at 38 pounds! One of my brothers-in-law hosts Thanksgiving, and when his oven heard the news, it promptly died.
On the spot.
“No way,” I imagine the conversation began, “are you doing that to me.”
For you see, back in 2009, we had another pterodactyl-esque turkey, which, if I’m remembering correctly, was about 37 pounds. We have pictures.
See? I wasn’t kidding on the size. The thing was huge.
But for me it isn’t so much about the bird as it is the gravy.
The very best gravy.
The gravy that is so awesome and amazing that it should be classified as its own food group.
My mother-in-law makes this amazing concoction. That’s her, up in the picture at the top of this post, beginning the process, using those luscious turkey juices from the roasting pan as a base. I swear she has some magic potion, some special mother-powers, where she chants “bibbidi-bobbidi-boo” and waves a magic wooden spoon, and the gravy appears. She swears not. But nobody in the family can quite replicate whatever combination of patience, spices, and stirring produces a gravy so dark brown, so smooth, and so amazingly delicious.
It’s darn good gravy.
Is there a special holiday food you look forward to?
[Note: This post is #7 of 26 of the April A-to-Z Challenge. Please see the button on the right of the page for more information.
Last year’s “G” post: Gladly Beyond.]