 Every day's Thanksgiving We never sat together at the table, but but we shared meals ... Warm fish chowder delivered in a wide-mouth mason jar He said it reminded him of Friday night fish suppers and the chowder his mother made when he was a boy He marveled at the dice-cut potatoes, chunks of cod, and the thin, soup-like broth he slurped from the bottom of the bowl He said after the first spoonful he knew the only thing missing from the recipe were his lips That made us laugh And then there was Thanksgiving Year after year we invited him in, but year after year he declined Thanking us with clasped hands and a slight bow He wouldn't join us at the table, but he welcomed the overstuffed bag of Thanksgiving we left under the hood of the rusted-out grill that stood in his front yard next to the flagpole He was a Vietnam veteran who greeted neighbors with gusto Who, at the sight of you, would fling his arm out the side window of his pickup truck to deliver a broad wave Who'd yell, Go home and hug your baby Who every year, reminded us to wear long sleeves and bring a broomstick to push back the thorny branches and help ourselves to the blackberries that grew wild in his yard Who, the day after Thanksgiving would leave a message that sounded more like a love letter For what he deemed the silkiest mashed potatoes he'd ever eaten, turkey that had him licking his fingers, and pie so sweet he could manage only one or two bites because he wanted more tomorrow Who would, no matter the time of year, turn his palms skyward and part ways with the words: Every day's Thanksgiving And we knew he was right Yes, Irving, every day is Thanksgiving.  Sign up today to get your Calendar of Days delivered to your inbox, every Sunday!
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 At the end of the block on the corner there's a garden planted on the edge of the road. It's tucked between the street and a stockade fence. It's so small, and jammed into such a small space, it seems more than a garden. It's a declaration. A fertile sign of determination and grit.
Someone wanted a garden and they were not to be deterred. They wanted to grow peas, and tomatoes, and peppers. We know that's what's growing because they impaled the empty seed packets on sticks to mark what was in the ground. And we've watch them grow for weeks now. There's a tradition in New England ... peas and salmon on the Fourth of July. Why? The salmon swim upstream this time of year, just when the peas begin to sprout. I'm not sure the neighbors will pair salmon with their peas, but the garden's bounty is proof there's plenty to be savored when the seed of determination is planted.  A recipe of one's own Forgive me, but I’ve never liked a boiled dinner. I know. A lot of people like a boiled dinner, and for many, it’s the traditional meal on St. Patrick’s Day. I’ve got a wee bit of Irish in me and I like to cook, but I had to find my way beyond the boiled dinner. It took some trial and error, but this has been my St. Patrick's Day dinner menu for a while now. And I won't say who, but even those who remain on the side of the boiled dinner have been known to ask for seconds. St. Patrick's Day Menu • Corned Beef (flat cut) with a brown sugar/mustard glaze • Colcannon - mashed potatoes with sauteed onion and cabbage • Roasted Carrots • Soda Bread • Chocolate Guinness Cupcakes I sometimes make the cupcakes a day ahead, but otherwise make all the dishes the day we celebrate. Especially the soda bread. It’s best the day it’s baked. What holiday dishes and traditions do you modify and make your own?  |
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