Joyfully Retired

Several weeks ago I told you about a special food novel, The Recipe Club. (Read my review HERE.) The authors, Andrea Israel and Nancy Garfinkel, have been on book tour this Fall. They’ve heard a wide range of food stories during this tour. They’ve written down some of those tales about Thanksgiving and I’ve been given permission to share them with you. Here is one I found especially touching.

GIVING THANKS

One Recipe Club friend recalls the first time she ever cooked a Thanksgiving meal on her own. Her mother, who traditionally did the meal, was recovering from surgery. Her father was working. And her sister was flying in just in time for the meal, but not early enough to help cook.

So our friend rose to the challenge, proclaiming that she would do the entire meal, on her own. No problem — until reality set in. She woke at dawn, shopped, chopped, and soon realized her oven was half the size it needed to be. By the time the turkey wanted basting the chestnut stuffing required baking — and the brussel sprouts were definitely not cleaning themselves!

But things really went south when it came time prepare her grandmother’s famous pumpkin pie. This was the pie recipe that had been handed down through generations. If it didn’t come out perfectly, our friend knew she’d feel like a failure.

Of course, nothing went right. The pie crust was too wet, then too dry. There was too much nutmeg, not enough ginger. With every crimp of the dough her head swam with the imagined voice of her southern grandmother: “A woman is judged not just by who she is, but by what she can bring to the table.”

When the pie came out of the oven, the crust was too brown, and there was a giant crack running down the middle of the filling. Our friend fought back tears, took a deep breath, and set the pie out to cool, knowing more clearly than ever that neither it — nor she — was, or would ever be, perfect.

But when it came time for everyone to gather at the table, something shifted. Her parents and sister praised her hard work and loved the meal. And our friend realized she had somehow been carried on the wings of the generations of women who had cooked before her, without complaining, to serve a Thanksgiving meal to their family. She felt truly thankful for all the work that her mother, grandmother, aunts — indeed all the women she’d known through her life — had accomplished each holiday. Triumphant, connected, and happy, she understood that food cooked with love is its own kind of perfection.

Beautifully told. Thank you Andrea and Nancy.

Visit Beth Fish Reads for more Weekend Cooking.