I love having my parents nearby. It’s fun to hear about how things were before they moved my family out West.
It’s also lots of fun to be corrected.
Take Thanksgiving for instance. I had a rather rude awakening when I spent my first Thanksgiving away from my family to spend it with my husband’s. Imagine my shock when I learned not everyone had sauerkraut and spareribs along with the turkey and fixings. I went for years, years without eating it again.
Then we came to the stuffing bit.
I’d never eaten bread stuffing in my life. I didn’t know you could make stuffing with bread. Growing up, I would watch my dad make the cracker stuffing for the bird. When I was older, I started helping. Mashing the crackers, squishing ’em through your fingers. Avoiding the hot lava of celery and onions. Then the tasting for the perfect balance of sage, poutry seasoning, salt and pepper. That was Thanksgiving.
I have since learned to adapt, but I still prefer the crackers to the bread.
While visiting with my folks last week, I mentioned the stuffing, believing like the sauerkraut and sparerib thing that this was a legacy of my German heritage.
Alas, no. Seems my granny made bread stuffing and my dad wasn’t fond of it. So when my mom and he moved out on their own, he read about cracker stuffing in the paper and decided to try it. The original southern recipe called for oysters, but he left that bit out and made it a family tradition.
Honestly, I felt kinda cheated. Sure, he and I were both born south of the Mason-Dixon line but we’re tidal people not southern (although I’m more Southwestern, but that’s another blog). Then I read a book about a large family Christmas set in the deep south, all about the way things were before the first World War. There at the end of the book was a recipe for cracker stuffing, with oysters.
Traditions can go back a generation or a year, but family is what realy matters.
Although the food matters too:D
Until next time.