My favorite meal of the year is Thanksgiving, full of traditions, remembrances, and great flavors. Some speak about the turkey or the after-the-meal pie, but to me, it’s all about the dressing.
As a small child, I had a big part in this Thanksgiving Treasure. My job was to pull the bakery bread apart, ever so gently, while watching the Macy’s Day parade on the old black and white Zenith. My favorite giant balloon was Bullwinkle––always the last special parade feature before the big man himself, Santa. It was worth waiting through the multiple marching bands and the everlasting Santa approved ads, including my favorite, the Norelco electric razor commercials . . . the perfect “dad” gift.
I thought the bread pulling would go on forever, as we pulled apart slice after slice, loaf after loaf, with my older sister, yodeling all the while, “Did you wash your paws?”
Thinking back, the celery and onions were the first vegetables I was allowed to cut. I remember it well, that old time-worn cutting board and using a damp kitchen towel under the board so it wouldn’t dance the Watusi. Then I would sauté the pork breakfast sausage, with its amazing aroma, and break it into tiny morsels using the back of a vintage wooden spoon. Finally, I’d mix everything together with the dressing coming up to my elbows.
I keep the dressing ritual alive each year and incorporate it into what has become my own Thanksgiving holiday tradition. Every year I deliver a complete Thanksgiving dinner––turkey, dressing, cranberry sauce, pie and more to my local police department. I’ve been doing it for a long time and, while it’s nice for the police, it gives a lot back to me. When I walk through the door I see the look of flavorful anticipation on each face and, while my heart just grins, my face always smiles. It means so much to me. In fact, this
Thanksgiving tradition may have saved me from a few parking tickets, but don’t tell a soul!