Snacksgiving

My family does not eat Thanksgiving dinner. We arrive to my parents’ house at some time in the late morning, after most of the parade. Then we eat Thanksgiving, the big, celebratory meal with collections of aunts and uncles and cousins, at lunchtime when the sun is still out. With any luck, we meander inside and snack, then sit out at the set-up tables for lunch, pack everything up into the fridge and have small leftover sandwiches around dinnertime. If we’re luckier, we also watch football (or just nap on the couches) between lunch and dinner, and regain almost all of our senses of self in that time.

It's my job to prepare some of the snacks for before the big lunch, which really means I give myself permission to eat all the little bits and pieces while putting some other similar pieces onto plates. The plates are nice. It’s a fancy meal, at least for us, so Mom brings out the fancy glassware from the armoire for entertaining. We do this for rare occasions throughout the year. The most recent entertaining before Thanksgiving is my birthday about two weeks before. Preparing snacks gives me something to do because I never have much interest in the football game of the afternoon, whichever it is. I’ve gotten old enough to at least tolerate all the yelling at the TV that comes with a football game without saying much except an encouraging, flat “Go Pack Go.”

I should review the assortment one plate at a time to feign some sense of consistency, but the difficulty is some snacks are opened up and dumped wholesale and others need parsing. I also need to make sure I don’t snack too much and get full before the meal.

The doldrums are mostly pickles. Pepperoncini. Olives, green or black or pimento. Dill slices. All out on a green-tinted glass platter. They emerge from jars stored in the top back corner of the fridge, unretrievable once they’re out of sight. The brine is strong and overwhelms me without a companion slice of cheese. Then they’re more okay.

The cheeses need a knife to slice them into cracker-manageable sizes. If we’re lucky, my older brother has recently sharpened all the kitchen knives. Cheddar. Swiss. Muenster. Provolone.

Crackers and summer sausage to go with the cheeses, of course. I'm starting to feel full.

Candied fruit. Pineapple and ginger. Two bowls for chocolate-covered almonds and chocolate-covered coffee beans. The older adults can tell which bowl is which, but I am unskilled at this once I’ve done something else and returned to the bowls. I'm half-heartedly helping because I'm also trying to scout out a good couch for a nap later.

Mom and I make a big platter of cereal mix with three or four kinds of cereal, but we have to be choosy about adding nuts or pretzels or small bits of crispy breadcrumb because the guests are picky. And some of the grandkids are allergic to nuts. The kitchen has smelled of the roast for hours.

Guacamole and chips. This is my primary activity in the kitchen, besides mashed potatoes. I could probably make guacamole in my sleep, and have made it when I am half-asleep, in a college apartment with that week’s worth of groceries, in slapdash minutes before a work potluck, and a few other times I can’t recall at the moment but otherwise would stress to you that I can make a bowl of guacamole quickly and easily. A perennial crowd favorite alongside salty tortilla chips. If I am in a good mood and the Packers are winning and everyone else is not being too loud, I deseed and de-rib the jalapeños before chopping them into the guacamole. I've eaten a lot by now.

Salted bitter potato skins, shreds left over from prepping mashed potatoes. Crunchy. Sometimes we prepare twice-baked potatoes instead of a more pedestrian mash. Not today. And not that I wouldn't wolf down either form.

Deviled eggs. My sister and cousin are typically assigned to make these, but I can fill in if one or neither can get to the house but Mom still wants them. Boil eggs. Scoop the yolks out of the cooked whites. Mix the yolks with mustard and mayonnaise and other seasonings. Replace the yolks into the whites. Sprinkle with paprika. I often make half of these disappear before lunch, too. I can't help myself. I am just about full.

The aunts and uncles arrive. Infinite food and finite kitchen space. Finding room somehow in the fridge for thirty minutes. The parents can't decide if they want help finishing up the side dishes or if they want to kick the kids out of the kitchen for more counter space. So I scout out the good couches for the nap later.

And then lunch is ready. Turkey is not dry in our house, but it can be unforgiving. For absolution, reach for the gravy. The snacks and appetizers take up precious cargo space on the plates alongside typical roast and mashed potato and bread stuffing. If we haven’t already filled up on the table crescent rolls first. Everyone is certain there is absolutely no room for pie, until slices appear on their plates after lunch.