Cooking up a new tradition for the Thanksgiving feast

The Boston Herald

November 24, 1991

It used to be cute that I couldn't cook. When I was young and newly married, everyone forgave me my failures. People gushed that my fried bologna and beans were "different," my fried hamburger and french fries an "important staple," my fried eggs and bacon an "interesting choice for dinner." I didn't realize that these personal favorites were not actually adored by crowds, not even when practically everyone I knew, including my husband, would insist that we send out for pizza.

After I caught on, I tried to vary the menu. I'd cut out a recipe from a newspaper or look up one in the Good Housekeeping cookbook my mother-in-law gave me. But the problem was, I never had all the ingredients called for so I'd end up substituting: water for orange juice, sugar for flour, potato buds for rice - things like this - so nothing ever came out looking quite like the picture.

Campbell's soup probably saved my marriage. "Just pour some cream of mushroom over chicken breasts, add a little milk, put tin foil over the pan and bake for 45 minutes," my mother-in-law said one day when I was substituting apples for broccoli in a cheesy-chicken recipe.

The Campbell soup chicken was delicious and a big hit so I made it again and again and again, varying the soup of course, so the family wouldn't get bored.

But after a few years, they got bored anyway. So I tried pouring soup over hamburger, but they groaned. I tried pouring soup over pasta, but they groaned louder. So I tried serving soup alone, but then they hollered, "Where's the main course?"

They forced me to D&E, the sub/salad/pita bread/pizza place in my town. There everyone's needs could be met.

Turkey and cheese for my son, a meatball sub for my daughter, tuna for the youngest, Italian for my husband, and a tuna and egg Greek salad for me.

This was better than struggling with soup cans. This was cheaper than buying food and throwing it out. Even our friends from Mobile, Ala., who came to visit last summer, adored D&E. "We were looking forward to the cream of cheddar chicken," they said. "But these steak and mushroom subs sure hit the spot."

So after all these years, mealtime is at last manageable, except at holidays, the mother of which is fast approaching. This will be my 23rd Thanksgiving married, my 22nd Butterball turkey, the 68th turkey I've ever stuffed and basted, because we have turkey on ALL the holidays.

I used to assume it would get easier. I used to figure that when I got older I would somehow grow into this role.

Well, guess what? Here I am a whole lot older, and cooking isn't one speck easier. Not even with a microwave.

Not even with pre-cut frozen vegetables. Not even when my sister-in-law makes the gravy.

Not that stuffing a turkey and sticking it in the oven takes exceptional skill. Even I've ruined just two.

It's all the appetizers you're supposed to serve, all the vegetables, all the relishes, and all the scrumptious desserts that are only scrumptious when someone else bakes them, that make me eager for the day after Thanksgiving when D&E (now here's something to be thankful for) is open again.