CAAF: To gluttony

We always celebrate Thanksgiving at my parents’ house here in Asheville. My parents are accomplished cooks and hosts, but a while back it struck me that I should make a gesture toward contributing to the meal. I was told to bring “green bean casserole.” This was disappointing — although I often talk about not being a good cook, I was a little offended that my family seemed to believe me. And green bean casserole is, I’ve decided, the cream-of-mushroom equivalent of an O. Henry story: A sacrifice to make, and a sacrifice to eat. But my mom continued to request it, so each year I would arrive at their door clutching a murky, bog-laden Pyrex. Last year, however, circumstances combined to make it impossible for anyone else in the family to cook, and I was put in charge of the dinner. The experience was not unlike when a fourth-string scrub is plucked from the bench for the Big Game. I made beef tenderloin, homemade macaroni and cheese, cranberry chutney and a beautiful pear salad (I was working with the theme: what if the Pilgrims had landed at a Wisconsin steakhouse instead of Plymouth? After dinner we had Grasshoppers.) It wasn’t traditional — I had to make something that could be delivered picnic style — but it came off well enough that this year I’ve been asked to reprise the chutney and salad. No green bean casserole, hoorah.
Tomorrow is also Mr. Tingle’s and my anniversary. It’s our seventh, so we’ve rented The Seven Year Itch to watch when we get home. (I now wish I’d had the presence of mind to rent Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? too, to make it a truly romantic double feature.)
I have many things to be grateful for this year. One of the nicest among them is joining Terry and Laura at About Last Night. My thanks to them and to you readers, along with hopes that you enjoy a happy, safe holiday. See you next week!