Last year this time I was out in Oregon, getting ready to cook dinner with my parents. The celery, mushrooms and onions were chopped and bagged, ready for the stuffing. Multiple heads of garlic had freed from their papery skins and the defrosted turkey was resting pertly in the fridge in my mom’s largest metal mixing bowl.
Cooking holiday meals with my dad (he handles the bulk of the holiday cooking in my family) is one of the great joys of my life. We have a certain innate ability to anticipate what the other one it going to do before they do it without talking. It means that I know when he needs help maneuvering the turkey and he knows when I need a little help draining the potatoes. This skill also makes moving furniture and loading cars together quite pleasant.
Luckily, I’ll be home in December and we’ll get to do the holiday kitchen dance for Christmas dinner. Until then, I’ll make his gravy recipe for my extended family Thanksgiving dinner on Friday.