Thanksgiving 2020
For the past nine years, Morris and I have spent nearly every Thanksgiving in northern New Jersey with his cousin’s family. We congregate in mid- to late-afternoon in the beautiful home of his cousin’s son, David. It is the perfect home for entertaining large parties, and we often have 25 or more people there: all the cousins, and their cousins from the “other sides” of their families; an old family friend who arrives each year bearing a bottle of good Scotch; another who arrives with a marvelous baked good from somewhere wonderful.
This particular cousin and his wife keep kosher, so we have a meat meal. First the appetizers: baked kosher beef salami and tiny pigs in a blanket for the meat-lovers, a vegetable tray with hummus for everyone else. There is wine—with toasts to family, and a special nod to Rebecca, who makes so much of the meal possible, though of course we all arrive bearing sides or desserts.
And then there is the meal: roasted turkey and a baked corned beef that is out of this world, stuffing (technically dressing, as it is cooked on the side), and sauerkraut, and roasted vegetables (from Morris’s cousin’s cousins), and cranberry bread (my contribution—made using my great-grandmother’s recipe), and a side dish of pasta and rice that I adore. A salad from our other cousins, and a cold pea salad that is hard to describe but wonderful. There are more dishes, as well, most years. After a long, lingering dinner full of conversation and catching up, food and festivity, we clear the table, load the dishwasher, and take a break.
Often, the younger generation gathers around the piano, or pulls out a guitar, and there is music to accompany the chatter of those of us in the kitchen, at the table, or in the nearby family room to check on the football game or talk about whatever is new. Then we reconvene for dessert, the island in the kitchen having been switched from the main course buffet to an entirely new selection. There’s always an enormous fruit salad, cakes, perhaps a pie or cookies or mandelbrot. There is coffee and tea if you want it.
It is, to be honest, a completely wonderful holiday spent with remarkable people whom we love. It is nearly always free of discord, there’s no drama, the food and company are spectacular, and the only small regrets we have are that the drive is quite so long, and that we don’t see them more often.
This year will be vastly different.
Morris and I will be alone at home, where I am cooking a turkey breast, some mashed potatoes and stuffing, and some asparagus. We do not keep kosher, so I will also bake a classic pumpkin pie for us, as well as some cranberry bread.
This means that my workload isn’t really much different than any other Thanksgiving, since I always roast a turkey breast so we have leftovers for sandwiches and casseroles, and make stuffing because I love the one I make—it’s the way my Gramma Stewart taught me to make it, mostly, with torn up, slightly stale white bread, onions and celery cooked in butter, a can of chicken broth (or fresh if I have it) and an awful lot of Bell’s Poultry Seasoning. I always make an extra loaf of cranberry bread to keep at home, and usually make us a pie, too. It’s just the potatoes and side vegetable that are an addition this year.
It’s just that I usually make “our” meal on Friday, so we can enjoy Thanksgiving Thursday at his cousins’ home with fresh palates and enhanced appreciation.
Speaking of his cousin, there will not be a gathering this year. I am not sure if it will be just the two of them, or if one of their adult children will arrive with their partner—all three of their kids have a boy- or girlfriend. This Thanksgiving is the first one since David’s daughter got engaged, so we will be missing the extra excitement and the opportunity to hug her and her fiancé and wish them both well.
We will miss the opportunity to see how Morris’s cousin’s cousin is doing now that she has a new liver. We will miss the ability to give extra love and hugs to a cousin by marriage, who lost a step-father this year. We won’t be able to catch up on their busy lives, their hopes and dreams and plans. We would dearly love to see them and hug them and kiss cheeks, just as always.
I would say “we would do anything to be able to get together with them this year,” but it’s not true. Because we won’t risk catching or transmitting COVID to a single one of them. And they won’t risk catching it from or transmitting it to us. We all love and value one another too much to get together in person this year.
Morris and I hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving, safe at home and away from those you love (unless they live with you or are part of a defined “quarantine pod” with you). And now, I’m off to make my cranberry bread. I’ll be sending the recipe to newsletter subscribers on Wednesday!
