When it comes to the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday, I am stuck in my ways. No, scrap that. I am a dictator. For that reason, I have a hard time relinquishing the dinner prep to say…my mother in law or my sister in law or even Rachael Ray.
It’s with trepidation that I travel to my sister in law’s house this year. Or any year.
I love her. She’s a fabulous cook. She makes her family’s stuffing which chock full of celery, savory herbs, butter and bread crumbs. It’s delicious, but it’s not my family’s stuffing.
She is as passionate about her ancestor’s recipe as I am about mine.
So, after feasting in New York, we will drive back to Boston where I will make two pans of corn bread, dry it out and crumble it up with sausage, apples, cider and cranberries. Then I will take the 22-pound turkey that is defrosting in the fridge and I will stuff it.
It’s Friday and I am cleaning the house. Not because I am having a fancy dinner party, but because my daughter is coming home from college for the weekend and my oldest son will be here for dinner. Yes. I am cleaning for my kids. The same kids that just two or three years ago I nagged to pick up their socks and put their dirty dishes in the sink. It’s not like I have to impress them.
I guess I am cleaning to prove to them that the messy house that they grew up in was all