Here are two Thanksgiving traditions: one that I no longer have but fondly remember, and the other I still do that day.
Here’s the first. Driving with six kids 2½ hours through the woods to grandmother’s house for Thanksgiving got old. So, when I finally had the nerve, I informed our extended family we were staying put at our home, but they were welcome to join us.
My parents took us up on our offer. They didn’t mind making the drive. But my mother didn’t trust that I would roast a proper turkey, so she volunteered to bring the cooked bird. I could make the rest of the meal. My mother was indeed an excellent cook of anything that had feathers while it was still alive. And besides she wanted to contribute something to the meal. I said yes even though the smell of roasting turkey is such a savory thing.
The first time, however, the kids and I were surprised when my father opened the trunk of their car and carried an aluminum pan of cut-up turkey into the house. What no beautiful bird on the table? Not this year.
One of the kids – I don’t remember which one – was the one who called it Grandma’s Trunk Turkey. Of course, not to grandmother’s face. But the name stuck.
I should say my late mother was a school cafeteria lady in those days. Serving food cut up in aluminum pans was part of the job. Her trunk turkey, however, was delicious. So it was Grandma’s Trunk Turkey for Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner if my parents came to our home.
Now for the second tradition — listening to a recording of Arlo Guthrie’s Alice’s Restaurant. For over 18 minutes, Arlo recounts in word and song how he got arrested for dumping trash illegally after a raucous Thanksgiving feast hosted by Alice Brock in an old church, which gets him arrested and convicted, a status he uses to get out of being drafted to Vietnam. I was lucky enough to hear him sing it in Taos, when we lived there.
Recently when we were in Stockbridge, we saw the restaurant that used to belong to Alice Brock. That’s the doorway in the photo above. Note the sign for Alice Ave. (By the way, Arlo announced Alice’s death at 83 on Nov. 22.) I will play Alice’s Restaurant at some point while I am cooking the meal Thursday for what will be a full house of family.
As for the turkey, I’ve done my research on the best way to cook this turkey. I now have a great pan and a high-tech thermometer, plus a daughter to supervise. But part of me secretly wants me to put the cooked bird in the trunk of my car and take if for a spin before dinner. But only my mother could get away with that.
And a final note: I have a lot to be thankful for this year. I will spare you the list, but near the top are those who read what I write, including my books and these posts. Thank you.
