Whopper and Fries For Thanksgiving?!?!?!?

By the Jodie 1/2 of Lydia Dare

I’ll never forget Thanksgiving dinner 1983. Never.

No, we weren’t at my grandparents’ cozy house enjoying turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce. No, those holiday dinners all tend to blend together, don’t they? And this particular dinner still stands out in my mind. Why, you ask? Because Thanksgiving 1983 we dined at a Burger King in the middle of nowhere, Indiana.

That’s right. Thanksgiving dinner at Burger King. And, no, they didn’t offer turkey, mashed potatoes, or pumpkin pie. Who even knew they were open on Thanksgiving, right? But it was a good thing they were.

You see, my family was in the process of moving from the Rocky Mountains to the Midwest. So there we were - four children and our parents in an ugly brown van with splashes of wild color on the sides (it was the 80s and at the time we thought it looked cool) driving across the country.

But I digress.

We were in a strange state we’d never been to before. We had no family (other than ourselves) and no friends to invite us over. No, we were on our own for Thanksgiving, and the prospects weren’t exactly promising. Oh, there were some nice restaurants open, but none that my father would stop at. I recall hearing repeatedly from the driver’s seat, “I’m not paying $20 a head for food.”

Never mind it wasn’t just food, it was Thanksgiving!! (And it was the 80s so $20 a head for food was a lot in those days. Especially if four of those heads were ten years old or younger.)

So we kept driving (and those who know me well will tell you I got my overly frugal ways from my father). And we kept driving. And it started getting dark, and off in the distance down the twisty, turny road we traveled – we saw a sign for Burger King.

It was like a beacon.

Not that we wanted to feast on whoppers or cheeseburgers for Thanksgiving, but it was food that wasn’t going to cost my father $20 a head. And by this time, we were really hungry. So we inhaled the burger and fries my parents put before us (and the cup of water, because no one was going to pay good money for a soda).

And in the back of my mind, I told myself that it wasn’t Thanksgiving. That it was just another night along the road and there was nothing special about it.

But that wasn’t really true.

Oh, it was most certainly a non-traditional holiday dinner, but we all had each other which is what Thanksgiving is really all about. And in the months that came after that night, we needed each other like we never had before. Leaving everyone you’ve ever known to embark on a life in a strange town, in a strange state, with people who aren’t remotely like you is a very difficult thing. Especially at that age. But we always did have each other, whether it was for Thanksgiving dinner at Burger King or at any other bump along the road.

Have you ever had a holiday dinner that was less than traditional? And is that why it sticks out in your mind?

Tradition with a Twist

By: The Tammy Half of Lydia Dare

As you may or may not know, I live in a house over-run by members of the male species. I have a husband, sons, and the sons’ friends at any hour of the day or night. I even got a couple of girl dogs, just so that I could balance some of the estrogen and testosterone. It didn’t work, because both those dogs hate me and wouldn’t take a dog treat from me if I wrapped it in bacon. But they love the boys.

I used to be a believer that gender played some part in food consumption. Well, not in amounts, but in the way it’s consumed. Then I had my second child. And my two boys are as different as night and day. My youngest is six and he only eats peanut butter and jelly. And broccoli. Yes, broccoli. Odd, isn’t it? My oldest is fifteen and he eats everything that won’t eat him first. With him, the only thing you have to worry about when it comes to feeding him is how to keep yourself out of his way. The boy could take an arm off and you wouldn’t even see it coming.

Thanksgiving at our house is usually a free-for-all. My sister and I go to our parents’ house and the food is set up buffet style. I do some cooking, my mom does the ham and turkey, and my sister is a whiz at deviled eggs, which I have never, ever been able to make worth a darn. Even the dogs won’t eat them. But there’s an annual tradition that’s a little odd, which I started a few years ago. I don’t eat meat so my staple at Thanksgiving is eggplant parmesan. I know, there goes that odd thing again…

It has become somewhat of a tradition for me to make it and then hide it, because it just happens to be my sister’s favorite food on earth. MY eggplant parmesan, that is. She swears she can’t make it, although it’s fairly simple. So, every Thanksgiving, she calls me a few days before to remind me to buy the eggplant. And I always tell her I’m not bringing it, that the stores are out of eggplant. They’re not. But I kind of like the game we’ve set up. On Thanksgiving day, it’s the very first thing she looks for, then she sulks when she can’t find it, then she starts to search the house until she does. It’s kind of like an Easter egg hunt, only at the wrong time of year and with the wrong participants. Even my boys get into the act and send her to misleading places where they “think they saw it.”

My eggplant is nothing fancy, and is just an adaptation from the Moosewood Cookbook, the fattening one before they came out with the low-cal version. If you like veggies, I highly recommend it. So, in honor of Thanksgiving, and in hopes that my sister will read this blog and at least try to make her own damn eggplant parmesan, I’ll share it with you. (I kind of hope hers sucks, because I’d miss the game we play if she did come up with a decent version of her own.)
My six-year-old will be eating peanut butter and jelly, and my sister will be dodging my oldest lest he take off an arm. But you, you could be having eggplant parmesan right beside your turkey. (Lucky you!)

Ingredients:
2-3 large eggplants, peeled and sliced into one inch layers
3 eggs
½ cup of milk
Italian bread crumbs
Olive oil
Cheeses of your choice (I like mixing cheddar, mozzarella and parmesan) (And I like LOTS of cheese.)
Tomato sauce
Garlic Powder
Rice to serve it over

Once you’ve salted your eggplants and left them to sit on paper towels for a few minutes (it makes them less bitter), rinse them well.

Beat the egg with the milk. Put it in a bowl right beside your bread crumbs. Dry your eggplant slices, dip them in the egg mixture, then in the breadcrumbs, then drop them into a hot pan of oil. Brown them on both sides on a medium heat until they’re crispy on the outside. Drain them on paper towels.

Layer the eggplant slices in a large baking dish, alternating between eggplant, a layer of cheese, enough tomato sauce to cover the layer, and sprinkle the tomato sauce with some garlic powder. Repeat until your pan is full. Top with lots of parmesan cheese. Bake until bubbly. Serve over rice. Hide well. Taunt your sister if she really likes this stuff. And your recipe is complete.

Do you have an odd recipe that has become a staple at family gatherings? If so, what is it?

Originally posted at casablancaauthors.blogspot.com 11/7/2010