Host with the Most Thanksgiving
We have hosted Thanksgiving at our house for the past several years, consisting of my wife, my daughter, my brother-in-law with his wife and daughter, and my mother-in-law. Despite what many stand-up comedians and television commercials might say, this is not a time of family drama or comedic stress or deeply revealing conversations that set us off on a journey of self-discovery and trauma-resolving scenes. For one thing, I’m not sure I’d want to deal with any of those options each year.
The main thing, though, is that in my case, I actually look forward to hosting the family at our house, for a number of reasons:
We don’t get a chance to hang out as a family that often during the year, at least the immediate family. There are larger family gatherings such as weddings, funerals, and the standard cooing over the latest newborn of the family, but our own little group-ups are a bit more rare. No doubt part of it is that May and I just really like enriching our evenings and weekends by flopping on the couch and watching murder mysteries filmed overseas where even the English accents are so thick we need subtitles.
It’s even more rare to have my brother and his family over at our house. May’s mother’s house is more of a central meeting point for us, but otherwise we normally meet at a restaurant somewhere for a family dinner or lunch. We used to meet at their home more often, but I like to think that maybe they are, themselves, discovering the wonders of Midsomer Murders, Unforgotten, and Candice Renoir.
It forces us to really clean up the house. I mean, sure, we clean up on a regular basis but between my daughter’s ever-encroaching army of belongings spreading into all rooms like an unstoppable fungus, and my own hobby of created stacked piles of papers to “go through eventually”, the force of disorder is strong within our house. Having visitors over kicks me into gear to knock down a lot of procrastination pillars.
It’s really nice to not have to drive anywhere; sure, once things are done and people go, we need to clean the dishes, put the tablecloth in the wash, clear off the table, move the stacked piles of papers from the hidden space in the closet back to the table, etc., but it’s still somehow a bit more relaxing just immediately being in your own home.
Another nifty element of all of this is that we are starting to develop our own custom Thanksgiving menu. The East Coast Plotecher menu, as it were. Ready to be rated 2 stars by Michelin, no doubt.
The standard staples of Thanksgiving are there. We (and by “we” I mean “May exclusively”) prepare turkey pieces, mashed potatoes with parmesan cheese baked in, broccoli, cranberry sauce, high-end pre-packaged Cheesecake Factory bread, corn on the cob, gravy, and stuffing. But now, in addition, we also will be serving orzo, as everything else I just listed our daughter deigns to eat. But hey, we all love orzo, so it’s a win-win, really. And I didn’t even know this stuff existed until earlier this year, so chalk one up for quick dietary adoption!
Another future staple is me bringing the heat with the Midwest powerhouse, the 12-layer rainbow jell-o. That’s right: BOOM! I got your rainbow bright right here! Two layers each of six colors, swapping between the classic jell-o layer and the sour cream mix. Truthfully, it’s not completely Roy G. Biv, and rather their eccentric twin, Roy G. Bv. Jell-o does not have an “indigo” flavor yet, but given that I can barely fit the current 12 layers in one casserole dish, maybe it’s for the best that I have to skip a color.
This dish completely blew the minds of my family here when I made it last year. Like, seriously, they were so impressed that they’ll probably have an image of it attached to my tombstone. I was even informed that my mother-in-law not only commanded that I make it again this year, but also send her home with more servings this time.
My brother-in-law brought along some dishes, as well, comprising of crab, white rice, and chicken and broccoli. So, all told, we had a lot of tasty morsels to sample. This isn’t even including the desserts of the jell-o, chocolate cake, and the yam dish whose name escapes me at the moment, but it has the tiny marshmallows on the top of it. You know what I’m talking about, right?
After the leftovers had been split up and my mother-in-law was paid her pound of rainbow jell-o, my daughter, wife and I all relaxed on the couch in front of the TV. I gave them fair warning we would be watching the channel broadcasting the popular American religion: football. And, with the right ingredients of family, couch, and televised sports, I was soon asleep.
Now that’s something to be thankful for.