Cranberry Sauce, A Recipe For Disaster.Posted: November 25, 2010
“I can’t wait for you to come over, I make the best cranberry sauce. It is my Grandmother’s recipe.”
In my early twenties, my girlfriend was someone I knew from high school. We ended up at the same university and things went from there. I remember her every year around this time because of cranberry sauce.
My family spent most Thanksgiving Days visiting out-of-town relatives. These relatives and my mom did not make cranberry sauce. They got it the way nature intended – from a can. Because of this, I believed and still believe that the best cranberry sauce is cylindrical, with marks from a can imprinted in it.
Come On, She Can’t Get That Stuff Into A Can
As a result of that opinion, when my girlfriend invited me over to Thanksgiving dinner I had two thoughts. My first was that I was certain her name was not Ocean Spray so she couldn’t really be making cranberry sauce.
The other thought was of disaster. The last time I had tried a new food at a girlfriend’s Thanksgiving dinner was a bad scene. Gagging on asparagus on that occasion hadn’t really played well with that girlfriend.
I think her mom appreciated that I tried. Unfortunately, I wasn’t dating the mom. Her daughter was much more upset about the asparagus thing.
Fearing a repeat of that debacle, I tried to find out what I was up against with this idea of home-made cranberry sauce.
Mom Does Not Have The Answer, But I Am Thankful For Her Lasagna
When in doubt, the answer was to consult my Mom. I asked her to make home-made cranberry sauce for Thanksgiving. She asked why she would do that before announcing, “we’re having lasagna.” My last chance, destroyed by the cheesy goodness of lasagna. Damn. The garlic bread was pretty good too.
So, loaded with lasagna, I drove to my girlfriends house. Her grandfather was there. The cranberry sauce was there too. Neither it nor her grandfather were cylindrical, but her grandfather did have some lines in his face. I don’t think they were from a can.
In the long run, the cranberry sauce wasn’t bad. But because it was Thanksgiving, it had to end disastrously. From the asparagus incident, through the night of the cranberry sauce, to that one Thanksgiving in Denny’s, to so many more, I’ve found that Thanksgiving out equals disaster for me.
And In The End, I Talk Myself Into Trouble
Despite getting through the anticipated possible disaster of Ms. Ocean Spray’s lovingly created, and actually quite good cranberry sauce, the night did end as predicted, horribly. I tried to do my homework on the new menu item, but should have put the effort in on learning about her Grandma.
Grandma had passed a few years earlier, which accounted for her absence. All the same, in making a joke that really didn’t have anything to do with Grandma, I managed to besmirch her memory.
All right, in the end, I guess the joke was related. That is kind of what they were upset with me about, but I had no way of knowing that until the silence started.
Pass the asparagus.