To date, I have three Thanksgiving memories that have and/or will stick with me into old age. Most recently, ba_miracle's "Are you shackng up?" question, the Thanksgiving dinner we put together for our whole
apartment building during college years and my first
southern Thanksgiving with my husband's family. More specifically, my first bite of stuffing during that meal. We came from out of state to the D.C. Area where my sister-in-law's family was living at the time. My sister-in-law cooked most of the meal. I' d been asked to bring pies, which I did. The defining moment of the meal came with my first bite of stuffing, the stuffing I'd been longing for, for days. After taking the first bite, in horror, I leaned over and whispered into my husband's ear, " What in living hell is in this shit?!?" There were a number of suspect ingredients, but the standout factor was cornbread, a southern stuffing staple. Having grown up on stuffing made from homemade bread cubes, my palate was in revolt. Now I do love food. All kinds of food. International food. Regional food. Street food. However, My emotional strings are so tightly strung to holiday stuffing that no amount of coaxing or rationalizing will ever bring me around to likng cornbread stuffing. Needless to say, I have volunteered to make the turkey, stuffing and gravy for all family gatherings that called for such, from that meal on. No one has ever suggested that I throw in some cornbread and they consume my stuffing like a hungry wolf pack.