Thanks

Thanksgiving was, heretofore, a holiday I would simultaneously dread and look forward to.  I would dread the hours of cooking and cleanup.  The worry over whether it would taste good (the memories of the great Stuffing Debacle in the '90's haunts my culinary memory).  I dread the 20 minutes of gastronomical bliss after hours of work.  It always reminded me of lack-lack of pans, space, ingredients and skill to do anything other than what my mother and grandmother had always done.

On the flip side, I love to feed people.  I love to cook something and watch them eat it.  It's my inner Italian NaNa, or the very real outer big girl.  I also love the three minutes or so of familial connection, at least until someone spills something or the kids decide it's more fun to unroll crescent rolls than actually eat them.

This year, in anticipation of my yearly madness, the "boys" (aka-husband and father) requested a low key meal, affording them maximum football time and minimum dishes.  At first, I was offended.  What was it about my elaborate meal wasn't good enough?  And then, a healthier, balanced thought broke through.  Perhaps, we could have a meal which was tasty and good and leave all the madness behind?

I thought of ways to cut back on dishes, thanks to aluminum disposable pans.  I trimmed the menu to include only our favorites.  I started early in the day and thanks to the dishwasher we only had half the dishes post consumption.  Thanks to my famous Thanksgiving lasagna recipe (think layers of turkey day favorites all drenched in gravy goodness) I was able to re-purpose leftovers as we cleaned up.

Tonight, as the family lazes about in a tryptophan induced coma, I could thank the 'boys' for talking me off the ledge.  It wasn't overly stressful.  In fact, it was even fun.  I could thank them.  However, thanks to over-eating I can't drag myself out of the recliner.