The Dressing

Food tells a story.  How can it not, it is central to our lives.  So many of the narratives of Jesus, particularly in the gospel of Luke center around meals.  My Grandma Becky was a one spunky lady.  She was petite like me. She worked outside the home and always had a garden when I was a kid.  She raised my dad and my aunt to adulthood without them killing each other, and she was married to my Papa Tate for over 50 years.  Let me tell you, she needed to be spunky. The older I get the more I realize how much Thanksgiving was her holiday. She loved to feed her kids.  She would cook forever and dirty every dish in her kitchen doing it. Always delicious.  My favorite dish that she always made was fried dressing to go with the turkey.  I’ve never seen “dressing” or “stuffing” made this way outside of my family. My cousin Jason and I fight over who will take home the leftovers.   So central is it to Thanksgiving dinner in the Tate family that with Grandma Becky gone, Jason, and I make it for our in-laws’ meals.  Sometimes we get my mom to make it for Christmas if we do not have it the month before.  And on rare occasions Michael will make it just for me.  Since my family gathers for Thanksgiving the Saturday after the holiday to accommodate both sides of the family, we don’t always have the traditional meal.  This began long ago when for a time my family had breakfast instead of lunch on Thursday.  The first time we tried this change in tradition, I was a young teen and  my grandmother made turkey and dressing anyway! I loved her for it. So, Thursday night, I made dressing and gravy for dinner.  As I fried the patties, I placed them on one of my grandmother’s everyday plates she always used with strawberries on it.  I was at the stove when Kemper came through and asked why I was smiling. The counters were a mess, I’d used twice as many dishes as I had planned, and I realized that was just about right.  I told him I was communing with my grandma, and it made me happy.  I texted my cousin and told him I was making our favorite dish and he said he had done the same.  Good, that meant I didn’t have to save any for him! Boy, I can’t wait until the heavenly banquet because I bet she’ll be dishing up dressing for the head of the table, apron on and spatula in hand.