A fifty-two
inch television, a six-foot leather sofa and a twenty-one pound bird that
used to answer to the name Thelma.
Two NFL games on Thursday.
Celery sticks with cream cheese or peanut butter. Pimento filled olives,
a cheese and cracker platter and the Packers-Lions. I love Thanksgiving.
My wonderful and thoughtful
wife will have the turkey perfectly timed to be carved and served between
games.
The table will be
lavishly decorated and well stocked with all our favorite foods. First
and foremost, Thelma. Which begs the question: why is Thanksgiving one
of the few times a year we get to eat turkey? It's not like we couldn't
go to the market and buy a turkey anytime we want. How come there always
has to be an occasion?
Can you imagine coming
home from work on a normal Tuesday to a turkey dinner with all the trimmings?
I guarantee your first thought would be "what's the occasion?"
Another query: why
does the Thanksgiving cook find it necessary to make the side dishes more
complicated than they have to be? I don't want pearl onions in my peas,
I don't want sauteed almonds in my stringbeans and I definitely don't
want my yams 'candied'.
But then, I'm a meat
and potatoes guy. Except on Thanksgiving - then I want to see a big bowl
of mashed turnips on the table (or is it rhubarb? - no, I think a rhubarb
is a beet. But then, I guess the turnip may also be part of the beet family,
I don't know).
And stuffing. Or is
it dressing? Can anyone tell me what the heck the difference is between
stuffing and dressing?
What about sweet potatoes
and yams? Isn't a yam a sweet potato? If my three-year-old ever asks me
"daddy, what's a yam", my answer would be "well, son, a yam is a sweet
potato". I'll stick with that until someone tells me different.
Is succotash just
a fancy word for mixed vegetables? Every other day of the year we have
mixed vegetables. On Thanksgiving, we have succotash. If you add a lima
bean to mixed vegetables, is that what makes it succotash?
Keep the cranberry
chutney down at the other end of the table (along with the acorn squash
and creamed Brussels sprouts) and open up a can of good, old-fashioned
cranberry sauce.
I never know what
type of wine goes with turkey. I do know, however, that a chilled blend
of hops and barley malt goes with everything from pickles to pretzels.
Here's a tip I've
learned over the years: always offer to clean the dinner dishes. Invariably,
a relative looking to feel useful will intervene and, not only will you
be off the hook, you'll look like a champ. (Of course, there's always
the possibility that they'll take you up on your offer. It's a risk-reward
thing).
Then its back to the
couch with a big slice of pumpkin pie and the Broncos-Cowboys game.
Don't forget about
the all-important post-meal nap. It's essential for the marathon eater,
drinker, sports watcher.
I think Thanksgiving
is a great time for every sportsfan to display his or her sensitive side
as well. No better way than to grab a turkey leg and a box of Kleenex
and flip on "Brian's Song". Remember, guys, weeping is perfectly acceptable
when you're watching "Brian's Song". And any guy that says he's never
cried like a baby watching that movie is either a liar or a Cyborg.
For the late night
sportsfan, college basketball's Great Alaska Shootout and a cold turkey
and cranberry sandwich are waiting for you at midnight eastern time. (On
the west coast, you may still be working on that apple brown betty Aunt
Martha brought with her from Idaho).
Get some rest. There's
plenty of turkey chili and college football on Friday and Saturday.
We'll have open faced
turkey sandwiches with giblet gravy and a full compliment of NFL games
on Sunday. Or
turkey-jerky and NASCAR may be more your speed.
I think about the
family and friends I have in my life and I am very thankful. I
hope you all have plenty to be thankful for too.
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