The Determined Chef

How many of you here are the one’s who cook Thanksgiving dinner? What do you usually like to cook on that day?

How long does it take? Hours? Days? Do you start buying the turkey the day after Thanksgiving when they’re on sale? That actually sounds a bit like my mom, who would certainly plan our Thanksgiving meal a couple months ahead. Some of the things you knew you could freeze got done more quickly - the extra green beans bought fresh in July looking awful familiar in November - but it was always because Thanksgiving was one of the important holidays for us, and for many of you, too.

It’s homecoming. Reliving the traditions that have made your family what it is. The food’s always secondary to the meaning behind the time. You could probably cook a turkey and stuffing in March and people won’t be traveling for it no matter how amazing your great-grandma’s recipe is. But don’t think for a moment though that you can let the quality slide at all. You chefs of the Thanksgiving table put your whole self into that feast, right?

So imagine next Thanksgiving. You’ve put so much time and energy into your meal once again. Everyone’s sat down, and the turkey is being set on the table. Your dining rooms looks like it could be the next iteration of the famous Normal Rockwell picture.

Except for what happens next. One of your family takes a big bite and their face contorts into disgust. They spit out what they had in their mouth in one giant move, gasping and choking. Everyone wonders what is going on, then they take some cautious bites and they do the same thing. Everyone is disgusted at what is in front of them, and they turn their eyes to you. What have you done? How could have fed us this?

And you, of course, you’re trying to figure out what you could have done wrong, but you can’t find one thing you could have possibly done wrong. You did the right things, presented the best feast you could, and now folks have tossed their napkins on the plate, they’re headed to the doors.