This year, due to my dad’s recent surgery and my mom’s unfortunate slipped disk, I will probably be helping out in the kitchen more than usual for Thanksgiving. This is great, because I LOVE to cook but rarely get the chance. It also shows a certain level of trust from my mother; last year when I asked what I might bring–pies, appetizers, soups, side dishes, anything–she said, “Why don’t you bring a bag of salad?”

You know, the bags of pre-mixed greens? So I did bring some, and she ended up dressing it up with nuts and veggies and fruits and dressings and God knows what else. So basically, I am not trusted to do any sort of cooking. Which is not only insulting, it’s confusing. Everything I have ever brought to social functions has been simple, delicious, and is usually based off my mom’s recipes (or Paula Deen’s). I get that they are gourmands with expensive tastes and delicate palates. But come on!

So this year I might just learn some tricks of the trade. Although something tells me that even in their weakened conditions, my parents will find a way to horde the cooking to themselves. I can see it now…. my mom bent over at a 90 degree angle stuffing the turkey while my dad’s dizziness causes him to sit with his head between his legs while he beats the mashed potatoes.