Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday since inheriting hosting from my parents years ago, before I knew I was gonna be it forever and would need a Thanksgiving grocery list in order to survive.
Thanksgiving at our house is amazing.
We host an all day celebration, starting with a local Newtown Turkey Trot 5k, then our famous family Capture-the-Flag game (more about that tomorrow), then back home for the Macy’s Parade and Westminster Dog Show on TV, and wait for more friends and relatives to arrive.
The couches and chairs overflow with cousins and friends, and the coffee table is overrun with champagne and punch, mammoth shrimp platters, and itty-bitty-pretty cut glass bowls full of pickles and olives – why, I don’t know, it’s just what we do – to snack on until the turkey is done. Which is often never, and sometimes earlier than anticipated as noted by a smoke alarm screaming in the kitchen.
The food though, that’s why they come, bring their friends, and friends’ friends. It’s nothing special, and no different than any house on my street or yours, in my town, or in your town. Maybe the fact this meal is only cooked once a year is what makes it so special.
Maybe it’s the chef, but highly doubt it. I’m going with it’s the people around the table that makes the eating so good. (Thanksgiving makes me sappy.)
No substitutions accepted.
I can’t mess with the menu: no new fangled recipes, no variations on stand-bys, no culinary adventures, and absolutely no substitutions. This means Aunt Debbie brings the mashed potatoes because she uses milk and heavy cream and about 3 lbs of butter and this alone is why she’s invited.
With all the fancy apps and list-making devices, reminders and alerts, and incredible technology that should make Thanksgiving grocery shopping easier, I opt for the old school method.
I have used the same exact Thanksgiving shopping list for years.
Not because it’s easier, but because I’m a sentimental sap. In fact, I wish it were even older; I wish I thought to save the first list scrawled out on the back of an envelope, and tossed after a successful trip or ten to the store. But I didn’t. But I did save this one, going on five or six years now.
My Thanksgiving grocery list has been folded and unfolded, shoved into back pockets and pocketbooks, abandoned in car consoles and cupholders, and a couple times, left on check out registers momentarily, then retrieved in utter desperation.
I love this list.
There’s nothing special on it, just the staples, checked of, x’ed of, dotted off, year after year. The original year, I must have crossed off each item, not knowing I’d be caring this list around with me every third week of November for years to come, because well, family.
I hope when I die, this is what my kids fight over. This. All of it.
NaBloPoMo challenge to post daily for the month of November. Thanks for sticking with me.