Making Thanksgiving Gravy

I made my first Thanksgiving dinner when I was a teenager. My mother and siblings had gone to visit relatives in Milwaukee and spend the holiday with them. By choice, I remained home with my father and his friend, Frank.

I felt important being able to cook Thanksgiving dinner for them. Because I was already making the family supper, I had already learned some of the basics of cooking. But, this was THANKSGIVING.

My Time To Shine

I was grateful I had a chance to try to cook a big dinner. Usually, this was my mother’s chore. Sometimes we were allowed to help her, but never for anything important. Now, I had a chance to shine.

All of the grocery items I needed were in the house. There was no need to get up early. With just the three of us, there was no need for a big turkey. A small one would not take too long to cook.

While the turkey cooked, there was time for the small preparations. I carefully set up the pickle tray with pickles and green olives filled with red pimientos. Peanut butter lined the inside of celery sticks. I enjoyed laying them on the plate in a decorative starburst fashion.

When I peeled the potatoes, I was careful not to leave even the slightest piece of peeling. I had boiled potatoes before, but I had never mashed them. Neither had I ever used the mixer. I had already washed and poked the yams, before putting them in the oven to bake with the turkey.

I don’t remember if I made green beans or whole corn for the vegetable. Knowing me, most likely it was corn since that was my favorite. The stuffing was simple enough with a box of stuffing mix.

Then There Was The Gravy …

But then, there was the gravy. I had never made that before either. Many times I watched my mother make hers with bullion cubes. What I hadn’t seen was how she thickened it. I knew she used cornstarch, but I didn’t know how.

My father’s knowledge of cooking was extremely limited, and it didn’t include gravy. I was on my own. There were plenty of cookbooks in the house, so I used one as a guide.

However, my impatience was my downfall. I didn’t read the cookbook far enough to know I had to stir in the thickening agent. Instead, I just dumped it all in. Whisking it around was not sufficient to break down the clumps. We had lumpy gravy.

My father and Frank were very impressed with dinner. They both said I did a great job and they were proud of me.

There’s a reason I married a man who can cook!

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!