Happy Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving Day -

National headlines on CBS tonight--15 million out of work. The Black-Friday warm up. More than half-a-million holiday jobs created against the backdrop of 10 percent unemployment nationwide. Fifty tons of turkey shipped to US troops in Afghanistan. Turkey trot races throughout the country. The 84th Macy’s Parade. Local headlines--the list of retailers open on Thanksgiving Day and the more than 300 meals served at the St. Francis House. But no stories focused on the panic of some cooks about to attempt a Thanksgiving main course for the first time. . . .

Childhood memories—the turkeys we made out of pine cones, pipe cleaners and colored paper. Elementary school plays about Indians and pilgrims. Singing “Over the River and Through the Woods” when the outside temperature was in the 70s. Grandmothers, aunts and mothers bent double over a steaming turkey roaster. Little did I realize at the time that one day this would be me!

All families have traditions. Sometimes it’s the guest list or who hosts the event (usually a rotation system). Other times, it’s the menu. Almost always, a secret recipe that cannot be divulged.

Thanksgiving represents hours spent in the kitchen. Lynette (Desperate Housewives) commented, “I spend eight hours cleaning, eight hours cooking and my family sits down for eight minutes.” Cleaning was one thing, but finding a recipe that met my criteria (affordable but tasting like something from Fauchon’s or the White Apron, easy to make and little cleanup). . .

As long as I can remember, we said we would break with the tradition of kitchen servitude. This year, we attempted to make restaurant reservations two days in advance of Thanksgiving. That failed, so we moved to Plan B, a simple menu with everyone contributing a favorite dish.

But simple became complex. My contribution to the meal—a main dish (whatever was I thinking)—sent me into a panic. But a close friend had served crab cakes at a tango reception, and she reassured me. But crab cakes required many more ingredients than I imagined possible. Plus, a minuscule container of lump crab seemed prohibitive. And what if I failed?


Yesterday, the Publix fish monger understood my plight and offered a secret recipe of his own. Today, I entered the kitchen about an hour before guests would arrive at my sister's. I had my new knives, cutting boards and skillet. The crab cakes emerged from my frying pan crusty and flavorful.

And my recipe. . . I hadn’t planned to share it, but the family and friends have been sworn to secrecy.