Happy Thanksgiving Eve, everyone! I must admit that I had no trouble getting into the “being thankful” spirit. Part of that probably comes from the fact that our offices closed at 1:00 PM, leaving the better part of the afternoon for me to assemble my contributions to tomorrow’s Thanksgiving meal. Color me thankful!
Other than last year when I spent Thanksgiving with my roomies in Oklahoma (where the wind goes rushing down the plains), this Thanksgiving as with most other years, will be spent with some of my favorite peeps: Katie, Stephanie, and Stephanie’s husband, Mark. This little gathering used to also include my former roommate, Liz. Sob. Sniff. She abandoned us to live a fancy and awesome life in Nashville, TN, and we miss her a lot.
The great thing about this set-up is that we all get to contribute to the Thanksgiving meal with little portions of our own family traditions, but no one bears the whole weight of the meal. Pun, if you can believe it, was NOT intended. We get to make fun memories, too, like when Liz cut through the tinfoil turkey pan and we had a turkey juice…um…situation. Or when we played hours and hours of Mad Libs and laughed our heads off. Or…like the story I’m about to tell you.
I think it was our first annual Thanksgiving gathering, and I was pretty excited to make something my family always has at holiday meals and sometimes my Mom would make it to celebrate my sister Lindsay’s birthday. (I think if it were up to her the whole world would be made of this). What is it, you ask? It’s what my family calls frog-eye salad. It’s basically comprised of anci de pepe pasta–think the size of tapioca but not slimey–; a sauce made of flour, sugar, the juice from a can of mandarin oranges, the juice from a can of pineapple; coolwhip, mandarin oranges, and pineapples. YUM! It’s amazing. It’s like a cloud of awesomeness in your mouth.
Soooo, I presented this dish at our Thanksgiving feast. Everyone at the table took a small bowl. After a few rather negative reactions came from my fellow feasters, shocked, I turned to Katie and Stephanie’s brother Michael. You see, he was eating bite after bite so I figured it would be safe to ask.
Me: “Michael, what do you think?”
Michael: “It has a certain quality.”
Me: “So, it’s a good quality?”
Michael: “Oh, no, it’s bad.”
And everyone started laughing hysterically. Hate the sentiment (’cause my frog-eye salad was every bit as good as my mom’s), but love the memory. Any time you can laugh to the point of crying is a good time in my book!
Well, there you have it. Apparently some family traditions do NOT translate well. As you can imagine, I have ceased from contributing this to our Thanksgiving gatherings, though I threaten to bring it every year (of course).