It’s a dish that our late grandmother had perfected and made
often, and each mouthful of celery, green onion and diced eggs with notes of relish
is a nod to our childhood.
The potato salad is a required presence. I
can say with utmost confidence that if there was no potato salad on the table,
people would start asking questions.
“Was there an awful
potato accident? An onion shortage?? Don’t tell me you ran out of bowls.”
It’s pretty serious. It’s always the first of the leftovers
to be polished off.
Growing up, I never thought potato salad was an odd dish to
serve at Thanksgiving. But I now realize that it’s not exactly a common staple like
cranberry sauce or stuffing.
Children don’t find the words “potato salad” to circle in Thanksgiving
word searches like “pilgrim” and “cornucopia,” for example.
And TV commercials that show a supposed standard American Thanksgiving
spread don’t include a mountain of cold potatoes on the table. Hmm. Odd.
(They don’t include gumbo, either. WTF is Campbell Soup’s problem???)
Over the years, we’ve added a dish here and there (Whole
Foods “field harvest” rice with cranberries? Yes please!), Banana Pudding (another nod to our grandmother…and mmmmm)…but pretty much, our dishes are
locked in.
This poses a problem for guests who come to dinner, because
while their (outside) food contributions are certainly appreciated, please don’t
get offended when nobody touches your stuffed bell peppers.
It’s not you. We’re just too close-knit to embrace change so recklessly.
Ha.
This year, however, THIS
year, we shook it up. We added a whole
new dish to Thanksgiving.
From inside our very own ranks!! It bumped out the sweet potatoes!!!!
It was all my twin sister Joy’s idea, and any food request
from the family vegetarian who won’t can’t
eat the turkey gets Priority One in our house.
Joy decided that we should make baked mac and cheese.
!!!!!!!
ANARCHY!!!!
“Mac and Cheese?” we
said, frowning, ignoring completely that Mac and Cheese falls under the top 50
classic American Thanksgiving dinner sides.
Joy didn’t help her case when she said the recipe calls for Ritz cracker crumbs on top.
“Who wants to eat crackers
for Thanksgiving???” we said. “Pigeons in
the park eat crackers!!”
“No, it’s DELICIOUS,”
Joy insisted, after having just eaten some at a “friendsgiving” Thanksgiving
potluck the week before.
Since Joy was flying to New Orleans for the holiday, and I
live here, I was instructed to not
only buy the ingredients but make the mac and cheese dish.
It took me forever.
You may remember, I’m a terrible cook.
But even after I made the noodles and cheese look passable, Joy’s
vegetarian dreams were ruined once I put
the dish in the oven, on a rack above the t-u-r-k-e-y (circle it, kids).
"The MAC AND CHEESE IS
GOING TO SMELL LIKE MEAT!” Joy yelled.
(She was busy chopping the ingredients for the potato salad.)
“Well, what am I supposed to do?” I asked. “There’s no place
else to put it.”
It was Thanksgiving
morning.
“The turkey will only
take 25 more minutes,” my mom said.
But, lunch was happening in 40 minutes and there was no time
to wait.
“GREAT,” Joy said
dramatically, then asked if we could put aluminum foil over it like a hat to
keep out the “bird smell.”
Once all the food was cooked and the table was all set, the
Mac and Cheese looked like any other new person at a table of regulars.
It stood out like a
sore thumb.
We all stared at it. The thick orangey rectangle, without
its own flowery serving platter.
“What kind of utensil do we use for it?” my mom asked.
We each took a little square, nibbling at it, skeptical of its merits at the table.
“Give me just a
little slice…no, that’s too big,” my dad said passing his plate to me. He got
one square inch.
“Interesting.” He said
after tasting it.
It wasn’t bad, the Mac and Cheese (pats chef on own back). But
we probably won’t make it again. We're too ingrained in our traditions and it reminded no one of childhood.
Nostalgia is important in our family, with all of us
spread across the country, busy with our own lives.
It’s comforting to know that we'll have a familiar meal for the holidays, the same dishes we ate when we were 15 years old, 25
years old and will still eat when we’re 90.
It’s something you can
count on.
That, and the fact that the potato salad will never, ever
smell like meat.
-Jenny
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