My Thanksgiving story....

My Mom was, by her own admission, a lousy cook.  Every Thanksgiving, in order to avoid eating her cooking, Dad would buy a large turkey and take it to Moore's Barbecue and they would smoke it for him for a modest price.  My grandmother would make the dressing, and we'd always flatter Mom by telling her what great mashed potatoes she prepared, even though we all knew they were instant potatoes out of a box.  Her speciality was a side dish of celery sticks stuffed with store-bought pimento spread.  Go figure.


One year, for whatever reason, Mom decided she'd try to cook a turkey herself.  Dad still pined for some smoked turkey, so he went out and bought a small turkey breast and took it to Steve Moore for smoking.  (NOTE:  meat shrinks when it's smoked.)  When he went to pick it up the afternoon of Thanksgiving eve, Steve brought out a little foil ball about the size of a baseball and handed it to him.  His small raw turkey breast had cooked down to a bird he could carry home in his coat pocket.


Dad's faced dropped when he saw it, but smiled anyway and asked Steve what he owed him.  Steve just looked at my dad, then looked at the pitiful little bird, and said, "Um...no charge, sir.  Happy Thanksgiving."  Hahaha!


The funniest part was, Mom's turkey dinner turned out to be darn good, and we all enjoyed a fine Thanksgiving meal.  Today I'm sure Mom, Dad, and Grandmother are all sitting at The Big Table enjoying the greatest feast ever, including real mashed potatoes.  I'll be thinking of them.


Happy Thanksgiving to you all, too.


S