Over the River and Through the Woods

    

   
      With Thanksgiving coming on Thursday, we will be going over the Brandywine and through the woods to Grandmother's house in East Bradford, to pick her up, and then go to Marshalton to have dinner with Jill's sister, Dr. Joan. So we aren't too far off from the song. Joan has hosted several times in the past few years and always has a wonderful meal prepared. This year there will be about 13 of us there.

     Back in the late 80s and into the 2000s we would host and typically have anywhere from 20 to 28 people for dinner. It involved 30 lb turkey, borrowed tables and chairs, lots of Manhattans, and the general mayhem that ensues whenever you get a big crowd together. Football on the TV, 20 people hanging out in the kitchen, a couple of dogs, and loads of laughs. As stressful as it was, I looked forward to those big dinners. I also looked forward to making a humongous batch of turkey soup the next day. I freeze it, and there is nothing like enjoying a steaming bowl of it on a snowy day in February.

     Growing up, Thanksgiving was never a really big event. It usually just involved our immediate family, my grandparents on my mother's side, and the occasional boyfriend of one of my sisters. I would get up and help my mother get the turkey ready. The smell of celery, sage and thyme, still takes me back to my earliest memories. Once in and roasting, it would fill the house with the heavenly aroma and promise of the feast to come.  On one particular Thanksgiving, We had just taken the turkey out of the oven when my sister's boyfriend drove up the driveway. She was still in a bathrobe and went flying through the kitchen. The robe caught the turkey and down it went. I think she and my mother wrestled it to the floor with both of them only saving a drumstick each. The turkey was scooped up, 5 second rule applied, and returned to it's platter, legless, but only a little worse for the wear.

     Once Jill and I started hosting our big family feasts, Jamie and Jessie followed in my footsteps, and would get up early and help make the stuffing and get that 30 pound turkey into the oven.  As we prepared it and watched the Parade, we would fill the kitchen, and the house, with the perfume of Sage, Thyme, and Turkey.  Once this task was complete, we would shift our focus to getting the house ready for the onslaught of family and friends. Guests would begin to arrive around 3 or 4 in the afternoon, the noise levels would rise to jet engine decibels, the Manhattans would flow liberally, and the combination of too many bodies, a roaster and the oven would raise the temperature in the house to 200 degrees. While it wasn't the Norman Rockwell version of Thanksgiving, it was a warm, wonderful gathering that I so enjoyed.

      The very first year we hosted, linen tableclothes, china, silverware, crystal were all the order of the day. Jill and I were still doing dishes and clean up at 11:00 that night long after the last guests had left. We made a decision then and there, that "Next year, everything is disposable." and it was. And no one minded that they were eating on paper plates (The expensive Chinet ones) or that their "glass" was plastic. We were freed up to enjoy our company and not spend the entire evening cleaning up.

    So here we are in 2013. We won't be home for Thanksgiving. We will be going over the river and through the woods. No extra tables or chairs needed here in Unionville. No 30 pound turkey in the oven waiting for it's big reveal. No crowds. No clean up. All of that will be over in Marshalton. But....
The smell of Sage, Thyme and Turkey will fill the house on Thanksgiving Day. It wouldn't be Thanksgiving without it. Every year that we eat somewhere else, I put a turkey breast in the oven. It smells the same, it is easier to prepare, we have turkey for sandwiches and casseroles, and I can still make my Turkey Soup..... and I am more than okay with that.