THANKSGIVING DAY
The most wonderful holiday of the year - Thanksgiving Day - has come and gone once again. Although one would think that this holiday is probably the most likely to be exactly the same from year to year, I have learned that it is the subtle differences that make each one unique.
Yes, we eat turkey and stuffing like everyone else. Yes, there is football and parades to watch on TV. Sure there are more desserts that humanly possible to consume - but each year offers some unique difference that makes each Thanksgiving a bit special.
This year I can think of a few things that happened around the Rizzardo household that I will most likely remember for about, maybe a week or so - but noteworthy. By 1pm both Moms (Rizzardo and Humberstone) had arrived at our house to help with the final preparations for Thanksgiving dinner (starting at a kid-friendly 3pm this year). By 1:20pm the debates of turkey basting, gravy mixing, and mashed potato mashing was in full swing. We have learned over the past few years to give each mom their own "kingdom" to have say over - my mom gets the turkey basting as she is easily offended by anything other than her own turkey tastes. Joan gets the gravy and a few other chores - having a fine mixing technique and the focus to work on detailed jobs. Jule hovers over last minute seating arrangements, napkin folding, and this year at least, Maria feeding. I have learned to give a very wide birth to the kitchen, table, or zip code that will host Rizzardo Thanksgivings. Alyssa was happy to hold a spoon or spatula and "help" for 30 seconds before she was off to play princess or pony or attack daddy.
One change for me this year was avoiding the crap NFL choices given to us (someone take away the Detroit Lions franchise altogether) and watched live UEFA Cup soccer online. My choice was far better watching a dramatic last second goal enabling Milan to tie Portsmouth. I know that means nothing to most of you. To me it was instant jubilee as displayed by my yelping and fist pumping. This drew a bit of raised eyebrows from the tri-kingdom kitchen!
By 3pm, most guests had arrived, but the salad did not. So my Uncle Gene had to rush back to their place to find the salad, and eventually we started eating around 4. By this time, the potatoes were a fine whip of mash, the gravy was smooth as butter, and the turkey was basted so many times, it must have figured it had died and gone to turkey heaven. Well, it was dead, but I wouldn't describe being carved by an electronic serving knife as heaven. Much laughter ensued when Jule broke out the electronic knife in favor of the traditional serving knife. My dad compared the knife to a Sawz-All. Anyhow, dinner went off without a hitch - we had the regular turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, bread, vegetables, two different green bean casseroles, two different salads, and a partridge in a pear tree.
Why is a partridge sitting in a pear tree? Pears are a fall harvest, correct? So by the first day of Christmas, your true love is giving you a tree with decaying fruit and a bird sitting in it. My true love gave me an XBox last year - no damned decayed fruit.
I digress. Dinner was great, desserts were even better, and then the alcohol began to flow. We'd already powered through about 6 bottles of wine (13 adults) - when it was time for the liquor. Grappa with coffee, rum with coke, cream rum on the rocks, and the Parampompoli (an Italian liquor you heat, light on fire, then serve to warm to subcockles of your heart). It was about the second batch of Parampompoli that I nearly caught my mother-in-law's hair on fire. I know because suddenly someone shreiked a very loud "OH SH*T!" that put an abrupt end to the conversation at the dinner table. The Parampompoli that was on the stove caught fire right as poor Joan was standing over it tending to turkey stock. So that was exciting - and immediately there was a lot more interest in drinking Parampompoli. So nearly setting my MIL on fire was a first, and one I will likely not forget. I am pretty sure she was understanding of the accident.
So turkey day had come and gone. Along with it the 19th straight time Jamal and I played tennis, a few bad football games, one big parade, lots of alcohol, and no need for my MIL to pluck her eyebrows for a few months. The kids were all well behaved - Maria enjoyed her first lickings of turkey and stuffing while Alyssa really got into the decorating and serving roles wanting to be Mommy's big helper.
Me? Well I just sit back and enjoy the ride. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday because it focuses on family. It is a chance to tell stories of the past while making new memories for the future. It is a holiday that is void of commercialism and full of tradition. It is the first day off of four, yet the last day before the holiday storm. What is so special about Thanksgiving is that in my 34 versions, I have only celebrated in 4 places: Mt. Shasta, my parent's house, my sister's house, and my house - all places we Rizzardos call home. For that alone, I am thankful.
The most wonderful holiday of the year - Thanksgiving Day - has come and gone once again. Although one would think that this holiday is probably the most likely to be exactly the same from year to year, I have learned that it is the subtle differences that make each one unique.
Yes, we eat turkey and stuffing like everyone else. Yes, there is football and parades to watch on TV. Sure there are more desserts that humanly possible to consume - but each year offers some unique difference that makes each Thanksgiving a bit special.
This year I can think of a few things that happened around the Rizzardo household that I will most likely remember for about, maybe a week or so - but noteworthy. By 1pm both Moms (Rizzardo and Humberstone) had arrived at our house to help with the final preparations for Thanksgiving dinner (starting at a kid-friendly 3pm this year). By 1:20pm the debates of turkey basting, gravy mixing, and mashed potato mashing was in full swing. We have learned over the past few years to give each mom their own "kingdom" to have say over - my mom gets the turkey basting as she is easily offended by anything other than her own turkey tastes. Joan gets the gravy and a few other chores - having a fine mixing technique and the focus to work on detailed jobs. Jule hovers over last minute seating arrangements, napkin folding, and this year at least, Maria feeding. I have learned to give a very wide birth to the kitchen, table, or zip code that will host Rizzardo Thanksgivings. Alyssa was happy to hold a spoon or spatula and "help" for 30 seconds before she was off to play princess or pony or attack daddy.
One change for me this year was avoiding the crap NFL choices given to us (someone take away the Detroit Lions franchise altogether) and watched live UEFA Cup soccer online. My choice was far better watching a dramatic last second goal enabling Milan to tie Portsmouth. I know that means nothing to most of you. To me it was instant jubilee as displayed by my yelping and fist pumping. This drew a bit of raised eyebrows from the tri-kingdom kitchen!
By 3pm, most guests had arrived, but the salad did not. So my Uncle Gene had to rush back to their place to find the salad, and eventually we started eating around 4. By this time, the potatoes were a fine whip of mash, the gravy was smooth as butter, and the turkey was basted so many times, it must have figured it had died and gone to turkey heaven. Well, it was dead, but I wouldn't describe being carved by an electronic serving knife as heaven. Much laughter ensued when Jule broke out the electronic knife in favor of the traditional serving knife. My dad compared the knife to a Sawz-All. Anyhow, dinner went off without a hitch - we had the regular turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, bread, vegetables, two different green bean casseroles, two different salads, and a partridge in a pear tree.
Why is a partridge sitting in a pear tree? Pears are a fall harvest, correct? So by the first day of Christmas, your true love is giving you a tree with decaying fruit and a bird sitting in it. My true love gave me an XBox last year - no damned decayed fruit.
I digress. Dinner was great, desserts were even better, and then the alcohol began to flow. We'd already powered through about 6 bottles of wine (13 adults) - when it was time for the liquor. Grappa with coffee, rum with coke, cream rum on the rocks, and the Parampompoli (an Italian liquor you heat, light on fire, then serve to warm to subcockles of your heart). It was about the second batch of Parampompoli that I nearly caught my mother-in-law's hair on fire. I know because suddenly someone shreiked a very loud "OH SH*T!" that put an abrupt end to the conversation at the dinner table. The Parampompoli that was on the stove caught fire right as poor Joan was standing over it tending to turkey stock. So that was exciting - and immediately there was a lot more interest in drinking Parampompoli. So nearly setting my MIL on fire was a first, and one I will likely not forget. I am pretty sure she was understanding of the accident.
So turkey day had come and gone. Along with it the 19th straight time Jamal and I played tennis, a few bad football games, one big parade, lots of alcohol, and no need for my MIL to pluck her eyebrows for a few months. The kids were all well behaved - Maria enjoyed her first lickings of turkey and stuffing while Alyssa really got into the decorating and serving roles wanting to be Mommy's big helper.
Me? Well I just sit back and enjoy the ride. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday because it focuses on family. It is a chance to tell stories of the past while making new memories for the future. It is a holiday that is void of commercialism and full of tradition. It is the first day off of four, yet the last day before the holiday storm. What is so special about Thanksgiving is that in my 34 versions, I have only celebrated in 4 places: Mt. Shasta, my parent's house, my sister's house, and my house - all places we Rizzardos call home. For that alone, I am thankful.
Comments
Post a Comment