Around the holidays, there’s always a slew of television commercials and holiday movies that depict a Norman Rockwell-style holiday dinner. Mom and dad are at the head of a long dining room table; dad is ready to begin carving a
Around the holidays, there’s always a slew of television commercials and holiday movies that depict a Norman Rockwell-style holiday dinner. Mom and dad are at the head of a long dining room table; dad is ready to begin carving a 20-pound turkey. Mom has a smile plastered to her face as she passes around the green beans.
Yes, somewhere in America there was a Thanksgiving like that.
In my household, Thanksgiving was eating buffet-style on paper plates while watching football, followed by a power nap. And it certainly does not mean getting ready for Black Friday (I tried it once, and I’ve sworn not to do it ever again).
While holidays with friends and family are certainly a joyous time, I found my happiest memories involve food that weren’t basted and baked for a half a day.
If I had to pick a last meal, it would be a charred Casper hot dog topped with mustard, chopped onions and relish served with a root beer float. That was what my paternal grandmother made me every time she would babysit me and my brother.
In those days, nothing beat sitting with a dog in one hand and a soda in the other, watching ‘90s Nickelodeon (my parents were cruel and refused to purchase basic cable for our household until I was 13). I’m not sure why this is one of my happiest memories of childhood, but it’s always made me conscious of the fact that food is so much more than fuel for our bodies.
When I moved to Hawai‘i, the meaning of sharing food was elevated to another level.
There isn’t a day that passes when someone doesn’t offer me a freshly baked sweet from their oven, an avocado from their tree or a scoop of rice to complement my lunch. I was told that the practice of giving to others is a centuries-old tradition of sharing aloha.
When I first moved to Hawai‘i, I was presented with a rice cooker as a housewarming gift. When I replied that I have never used a rice cooker and don’t know how to cook, I was met with looks of shock and disbelief.
I became a pet project and was suddenly showered with “easy kine” recipes, cooking tips and brief lessons on the proper way to slice up a can of SPAM.
While I realize the significance of holiday traditions and the meaning celebrations have for each family’s life, I’ve learned that it’s more meaningful to burn a batch of chocolate chip cookies rather than learn how to properly stuff a turkey.
• Andrea Frainier, lifestyle writer, can be reached at 245-3681, ext. 257 or afrainier@ thegardenisland.com.
