The Holiday Ritual

There are absolute certainties in life: death, taxes and the like. For me, there are a few more on this list: The 157th Street subway will always smell like urine on a Sunday morning. You will never get a taxi at 4:40 pm on a weekday. If you make a charitable donation one year, you will be on their direct mail list for life. That creamed spinach never tastes as good as you hope it will. And that Fang and I will always spend the Father, Son & Holy Ghost of holidays (that would be Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter) with The Aunts in Queens.

I adore the Aunts. For their rather advanced age, they are sharp, reasonably cognisant, conversant with politics, culture, sports and gossip. After a decade of holidays spent with these warm relatives, I've become overally acquainted with their cuisine ritual. Most people who know me are familiar with my joke about the ritual of the holiday meal: Thrice-cooked turkey, four overcooked and non-seasoned root vegetables, sweet potatoes with marshmallow topping and if we're lucky, gravy. I think people believe I'm exaggerating. For the record, I'm not. Today's meal was consistent with the theme.It looks decorative, but let me tell you--if you look closely, you can see the pores. The gravy I poured on it was absorbed faster than a ShamWow.I don't like sweet potatoes so I actually never eat this. But the marshmallow embellishment on top makes me wonder (today out loud) if this dish was invented, say, about the same time Ambrosia was.Root vegetables #1 and #2.Root vegetable #3.
And this would make root vegetable #4 (technically not a root vegetable, but humor me here).

I don't want to sound ungrateful because I'm not. Aunt Stella at age 95 does the bulk of the cooking and undoubtedly, the simple nature of the cooking can likely be attributed to her longevity. I am grateful for a holiday meal and the company of this trifecta of wonderful women.

That said, I am also frustrated. A few weeks ago, Fang and I volunteered to do all the cooking for Thanksgiving this year. We wanted to introduce, very subtly, things like flavor and moistness in the protein. I always seem to spend my holiday at someone else's house and frankly, I'd like to host dinner for once and cook for people instead of dragging out to the outer boroughs. We proposed it to Aunt Bert and the conversation went like this:

Fang: You guys always do so much. We'd like to cook and host Thanksgiving this year.
Bert: Oh, no. We're old people. We can't go out in cold weather.
Fang: OK, we can do it at your house in Queens. We'll bring all the food.
Bert: Oh, no. We can't do that. Stella will insist on cooking.
Fang: OK, Stella can cook all the vegetables. We'll bring the turkey.
Bert: Oh, no. Stella will insist. She likes the way she does her turkey.
Fang: (under his breath) No one else does.

And here we go again.

As we drove home tonight, I announced to Fang that we would be cooking Easter dinner next year. We'll send a car for them, we'll make eight platters of soft vegetables for them and we'll accommodate any other need that they have. But I realize, this is a battle we'll never win and at this stage in their lives, it's probably pointless to argue.

As a subtle retaliation, I'm taking potatoes au gratin to Queens for Christmas.