I had a vision, you see. I was looking forward to seating my family at a beautifully set table in the Colonial dining room of the farmhouse we had just moved into. I could just picture the centerpiece the kids would construct of autumn leaves from the trees in our front yard. I was eager to fill my own kitchen with the aroma of roasting turkey, buttery squash, and cinnamon-and-spice pumpkin pies. I imagined us preparing the meal together: peeling apples, tearing bread into cubes for stuffing and stirring up a tart cranberry sauce from scratch.
My relatives knew better. Sympathetic to the size of my brood and the extent of my inexperience, just about every guest showed up with ready-to-serve casseroles and dishes. It was all so easy that the next year I insisted on doing it again--and I, foolishly, told everyone I would take full responsibility for the feast. So I did, much to the detriment of my disposition. I arose at 5 A.M. and spent most of the day in the kitchen, while everyone else enjoyed coffee and conversation by the fire. I can't even remember how everything tasted; I was too tired.
This year will mark the third Thanksgiving we've hosted and the first time I may have figured it out. Practice doesn't necessarily make perfect. But I now know how important it is to do as much as possible ahead of time--and not to turn down any offers of help. My son, Ian, 13, enjoys coming with me to order the turkey; Devin (my 12-year-old vegetarian) makes cranberry sauce and decorates the pies; and Brad, six, and Holly, four, well, they work on that centerpiece.
Thanksgiving morning, my husband and I will rise at dawn to stuff the turkey and get it into the oven early, so the house will be filled with its aroma when the first guests arrive midmorning. Then we will sit quietly together, as is our tradition, for a quiet cup of coffee and the conversation I missed out on last year.
Nicole Wise is a freelance writer who lives in Stamford, Connecticut. Recipe development by Stacey Webb.
