closer to where we want to be

I'm not a cook... I'm a baker.

Yesterday, for our own private Thanksgiving before we have 3000 miles between us on the actual day, Benni and I cooked cornish game hen, a green bean casserole, corn, stuffing, and for dessert: Trader Joe's Spiced Apple bread.

So freakin' good, that meal. And then we watched Elf, which I'd never seen before, during dinner, and it just made everything absolutely lovely.

And as Benni whisked around the kitchen doing eight things at once (I can't even do one thing at at once) and eye-balled olive oil and milk measurements (I have to measure out EVERYTHING) and as he substituted dry vermouth for white wine ("But it's not the same thing," I said. "Doesn't matter," he said) I realized that I'm not a cook. Not at heart, anyways.

Cooks can improvise, and substitute, and guesstimate measurements, and do eight things at once and look at a fridge full of random food and leftovers and somehow come up with an amazing meal to create out of it.

I can't do these things.

I follow the recipe exactly, I don't taste my food until it's done, I don't snack and sample while cooking and I can screw up a grilled cheese sandwich. I can't substitute, I can't improvise, I can't make it up as I go along. I can't look at a bunch of pieces and make a whole out of it. All I can do when it comes to cooking is follow orders and look at what is supposed to be versus what actually is.

Thanksgiving is hard for people like me. And not just because of the cooking.

I'm betting, against all odds, that your family is weird, and complicated, and layered, like mine. It's got a past, it's got a present, nobody's quite clear on the future, and these are all people you're supposed to feel close to but don't always quite understand. Sure, you love them...but you don't always like them.

How am I doing so far? Guessing fairly accurately? Yeah, I figured.

This Thanksgiving is going to a particularly weird one with my family. I'm doing my best to hang in there, to let people be who they are (as a friend once said to me: "You have to forgive people for not being you.") and to be a cook, not a baker. Oh sure, I've got gravy and cranberry sauce and some appetizers to contribute the day of, but that's not what I mean.

What I mean is, when it comes to family gatherings, it's much better to be able to improvise, play along, guesstimate, drop your expectations and not stick to the recipe as much as listen to what other people actually need from you.

Toss the recipe out, sample and snack as you go along, and just let it be what it will be...and let people be who they are.

Bakers tend to follow directions and measurements exactly, place it all gently in an oven and trust that because they did everything right, it will turn out perfectly, and they only get to taste it once it's done (unless they lick the batter, like I do.) And there IS a time and place for a baker's attitude and instincts.

But spending time with your family requires the flexibility and spontaneity of a cook, not a baker. It asks that you look at all the random and leftover pieces (and people) and make something amazing and unique out of it.

Thanksgiving demands that we leave our expectations at the door and leave room for something greater - and therein lies the reason for our gratitude. Because what we usually get out of life, and our family, and the people we love, is infinitely better than anything we could have planned.

I think that's what family, and cooking, and Thanksgiving is all about.