When my grandparents were alive, Thanksgiving was always at their house. Grandma would cook and set the table with her best china, “Golden Wheat”. It came in Doz detergent and was, by design, really only appropriate for Thanksgiving, so I figured that’s why Thanksgiving was always at their house and why Grandma always bought Doz even though she liked Tide better.
I thought Grandma was the best cook in the world and I loved bein' in her kitchen. I went to her house early on Thanksgiving to "help". Every eye on the stove had a pot or pan on it and each one offered up its own little vapor, just a hint of what was inside. The pressure cooker hissed and whistled, the beans sputtered to warn us that the water was almost gone and the timer ticked out each minute until the turkey came out or the rolls were ready for the second risin. It was like a little kitchen symphony in “B-fat.”
Grandma cooked the turkey in a brown paper bag at 225 all night. The dark meat was always sweet and juicy but the white meat was almost always dry. But it didn’t really matter though cause the gravy took care of that. Grandma made her gravy usin neck bones and gizzards and what ever else didn’t look pretty. It rolled to a boil and thickened when she stirred in a steady stream of flour paste. Just like magic, I can't live without turkey gravy cause gravy can fix “a world of dry”.
She cooked the ham early and and put on the back porch cause ham didn’t spoil like a bird would. The ham was a true work of art; she poured a bottle of Coca Cola on her ham; only Coke, never Pepsi or Royal Crown cause of the sugar. The sugar made the ham turn brown and crispy and blistered the fat so it looked raw amber. She'd cut it so it separated into little diamonds, each studded with a whole clove, God it was a sight. I can still remember throwin up ham fat cause I ate it off everybody’s plate, I had a hard time wastin fat when I was little and truth be known, still do.
But anyway, dressin was made out of day old corn bread and came from the bird, not the box. There were always apple rings, watermelon rind pickle and spiced peaches in the only “cut glass” dish Grandma had. I had to put the pickle on top of my greens, cause they were a challenge to get down, Lord I did learn how to hide those bitter greens; put’um next to sweet potato casserole and top with that “hurt your teeth sweet” pickle, you “could fool the blind".
Momma hated fat peas, so she always volunteered to bring the little peas. I thought they were special because of the French name…LeSewer. She always bought two cans casue she didn't like to look stingy. My aunt Mae Lee would “unmold” the cranberry jelly, by openin' both ends of the can so it would just slide out nice. (A trick she was very proud of) It was all there, the perfect Southern Thanksgiving table; sweet tea, sweet taters with marshmellows, macaroni and cheese, pumpkin pie and poundcake. Grandma worked hard and I believe really enjoyed havin the family over. Momma and Daddy didn’t get there usually until the last minute cause there was always a little tension between Grandma and Momma, so she stayed out of the kitchen if you know what I mean.
My Daddy’s brother would roll in from Richmond with his wife (from up North) and their six kids and all hell would break loose. The quite that was always mine at Grandma’s house was sucked up by the “others.” Lord have mercy, there was even a baby! At least they all had to sit at the "children's table".
To my Grandma’s credit, she never made me sit at the “children’s table”. She kept me close when the “other’s" arrived and gave me big girl chores in the kitchen to save me from having to actually play with them. Don't know why, but I never liked playin' with my cousins, I was usually glad when they piled back into their station wagon and drove off leaving nothing but crumbs and blessed peace. Even when Momma and Daddy left I stayed, and while Grand-daddy watched the game, Grandma and I washed and dried the “Golden Wheat,” and stacked it in the china press for the next time.
