As the youngest of four sisters, I’ve endured my share of sibling ribbing and none more so than about my cooking. Admittedly, there was a point in my life where I clung to a few favorite food staples to make a meal. The running joke between my sisters was if a recipe called for Saltines, sour cream, cheddar cheese and squash, I would make it. There you have it. Guilty as charged. I make a mean squash casserole.
For some odd reason, this reputation followed me to work. My colleagues thought it was a bag of laughs to make squash casserole as my birthday cake, complete with a candle that drooped down into the center of the creamy mixture. I always suspected my sisters were in on this.
Happily, my cooking skills evolved through the years. I am soooo beyond Saltines it’s not funny. I enjoy trying new recipes and experimenting with different ingredients. I’ve even ventured into French cuisine. Viva la take that, sistah! The natural course of a chef’s evolution is to try new things. To mix it up a little. Get out of the kitchen comfort zone.
So I introduced some new dishes into our Thanksgiving menu a few years ago. I bought a new cookbook that had the best-looking sweet potato puree recipe. I decided to give it a go. Throw caution and boring dishes to the wind! Mashed sweet potatoes with burnt marshmallows in a glass pan? Fuggghedaboutit! My sweet potatoes were gently pureed into a hollowed orange and baked with a creme fraiche. Mmmmm. C’est yummo!
And who needs squash casserole when you can have harvest grilled squash ragout? Magnifique!
Except nobody else thought so. My children, husband, parents and, yes, sisters complained.
“But, you always make the best squash casserole!” they said in whimpering unison.
Yeah, tell that to the emotional wounds of my past. I wasn’t budging.
The following Thanksgiving, I expanded my culinary prowess by adding a few more new dishes to our family meal.
More whining and glum faces. Martha Stewart doesn’t get this much grief. Well, maybe she does a little.
Where was the adventure I asked my family? What about the joie de vivre of sharing new culinary experiences together? Surely, there is more to life than a glop of crackers and squash. Didn’t I marry the man who kidded me that family dinners at my parents’ house only consisted of starch and more starch? Where are you now, mister? I need back up!
Then I stopped to think about the memories attached to the tried and true casseroles. The times I stood on a stool next to mom as a little girl slicing the ripe yellow vegetable. How my toddler daughter would throw green beans from her high chair, but couldn’t get enough of Mama’s homemade sweet potato casserole with burnt marshmallows on top.
Purely delicious traditions baked with sweet memories.
It’s Thanksgiving soon. Guess I had better check my pantry for Saltines.