Gravlax

Well I hope all had a terrific Thanksgiving. It was one of my best. This year the family all gathered at my house. It was quite traditional with an abundance of food followed by couch time and plenty of football. We ate, drank, laughed, talked, played cards and just savored the moment. As my kids get older, I am painfully aware that days like this are very finite. The oldest 3 are all at an age that they’ll be starting their own families soon and pulled in other directions. With that in mind, this holiday was special.

Although most of the menu was a cornucopia of tradition, I also prepared one of my favorite snacks to nibble on as I worked that’s as far from any traditional Thanksgiving menu item that I’m aware of. If you like Salmon, you’ll love Gravlax. It’s not something I’d even heard of until a few years ago but once I prepared it, I was hooked. Traditional Gravlax is Salmon cured in salt, sugar and dill for at least 24 hours. It comes to us from our tall, blond and beautiful friends in the Norse countries. Back in the Middle Ages, not only was the Salmon packed in this salt mix, it was also buried in the sand just below the high tide line at the ocean’s edge to allow it to ferment. Gravlax literally translated means “buried Salmon”. Somewhere along the way, the fermentation idea was discarded and we have the Gravlax that is served today. The salt draws the moisture from the outer edges of the fish leaving just a slight leathery texture followed by a creamy finish from the inside. The Salmon-y flavor is enhanced by perfect saltiness with hints of lemon (which is added in most modern preparations) and dill. Gravlax can be served in many different ways. Here you see that I’ve simply put it on a piece of Pumpernickel bread with dill and capers. A thin slice of lemon and some red onion would also be delicious. I sometimes add it to scrambled eggs as a takeoff from one of my favorite breakfasts in Scotland –scrambled eggs with smoked Salmon.

Of course I Googled Gravlax to see all of the different ways folks make it. There are plenty but salt, sugar and dill seem pretty consistent. A chef I met in Canada uses thinly sliced beets to impart a beautiful red hue as well a unique and delicious twist. As I mentioned, lemon is common but I imagine other citrus would add a tasty acidity as well. You be the judge but the basic texture and creaminess will be the same.

The best reason to talk about Gravlax during the holiday season is that it’s absolutely the easiest thing I know how to make. Unless you plan on serving your guests chips when they arrive, you won’t find a simpler or more elegant starter. Obviously this has to cure for a day or two (I think two is best) so you’ll prepare it well in advance and not have to think about it again. The magic will happen in your refrigerator (unless you choose to bury it at the beach).

I think it’s time to start a new tradition.

Gravlax

1 3½-4 lb Salmon fillet (pin bones and skin removed)
2 cups salt
1 cup sugar
1 lemon thinly sliced
1 cup fresh dill, very coarsely chopped

Combine the salt, sugar and dill. On a long baking sheet, cut a piece of cellophane that is big enough to wrap the entire piece of fish and lay that out as a base (you may need 2 pieces). Place enough mixture on the bottom so that all of the fish touching the bottom will be covered. Lay the Salmon down on the mixture. Pour the rest of the cure over the top and add the lemon slices across the top. Laying the lemon on the fish will give it more lemon flavor but will discolor the parts of the fish it touches. Wrap tightly in the cellophane. Lay a second baking sheet on the top and weigh down. I use a heavy cast iron skillet but 1 or 2 foil wrapped bricks would be fine too. Place in the refrigerator for 24-48 hours.

When ready to slice, remove Salmon from the cure and wash thoroughly. Pat dry. Using a sharp knife, make very thin slices at a 45 degree angle.

Serve in any of the ways described above or create your own wonderful idea.

It's Not About the Stuffed Peppers... It's the Story

It has been a while, my dear friend. I’ve been away from this far too long. My path over the last couple of years took me away from the things that have meant the most to me and I’m very pleased to be back. I won’t bore you with the details but suffice to say, I have had a tremendous opportunity to reflect. And now with the holiday season at our door step and slightly crisper air outside, the timing couldn’t be more perfect to revisit my blog. So here it goes…

If you were to do a web search for Emily V. Thornton, or any facsimile of her name, you’ll get many hits. I tried. You won’t, however, find the person I’m referring to. There could be several reasons for this. Perhaps it’s because she never owned a computer, or because she lived a humble life, or because her only claim to fame was spending the first half of her life wanting to raise a child and the last half enjoying doing just that. The last of four children, Emily Vanide Fealser was born to Austrian immigrants in a small house in Erie, Pennsylvania in 1924. Her father, Amos, ran the family dry cleaning business while her mother, Mary, tended to raising the family. Mary was a very proper woman who was never seen without her light makeup or in anything except a dress. The idea of trousers was appalling to her. She was a nurturing mother whose children all grew up to live very successful lives in and around the blue collar city of Erie.

As time went by, as time inevitably does, Emma grew wary of life in the declining industrial city so she struck out and away. After a failed marriage, some time in both California and Florida, and fast approaching her 40’s, she found herself back in Erie. There she met a salesman. Louis sold everything from insurance to cars to real estate. He followed the money and had done pretty well for himself in doing so. One of the most affable and free spirited people she’d ever met, Emma fell for him. During a cross country road trip in the mid 60’s, they eloped in Las Cruces, New Mexico. Louis and Emma’s story is full of fun, adventure and happiness but they both really wanted to have a child. Unable to conceive, they decided on adoption. This is where I come into the story… and I promise I’ll get to the food soon enough. In October of 1966, they took home a 3 day old baby boy that they named Louis Thornton Jr. –Me. While I wish I could have known my parents when they were younger, because they sounded like a lot of fun, I was the benefactor of all of the attention and love that comes with more mature parents.

Now to the food… Most of what we ate was out of convenience. Mom was not the June Cleaver type. By the time she started a family, she had not honed her domestic skills. She’d been busy enjoying life. I kind of admire that about her. I remember lots of Kielbasa braised away with cabbage and caraway seeds served with horseradish. For lunch, there might be small pumpernickel rounds with limburger cheese, a thin slice of onion and sprinkled with paprika. Breakfast was raisin bread toast with jam and butter. Most of my friends didn’t stay for dinner but this is what I knew and I enjoyed it. In fact, I’ve never had a problem trying new things and I believe my mom and grandmother played a huge part in my interest in all things food.

Now I’ve enjoyed street food as well as fine dining in all parts of the world. From Dim Sum in Hong Kong to Fish and Chips on the coast of Britain, from San Francisco to New York to Miami, I have been blessed to be able to taste the flavors of so many places and cultures. Still, if you ask me about what I liked as a kid, the litany might be extremely unimpressive to any other foodie. Some years ago, my mom and I were talking and she mentioned that she hadn’t cooked for me in a while and she wanted to. Being questioned, I told her that I really missed her stuffed peppers. A few days later, I walked into mom and dad’s house and the smells made me feel like I was 10 again. It may have been that long since mom made them for me.

While I realize there is nothing auspicious, unique or remotely special about a stuffed peppers, to me this was as wonderful a meal as I’d ever had. If rice, meat and spices combined in a pepper with tomato sauce harkens Hamburger Helper to you, I understand. To me, it’s a foodie way to sum up the love and care that my mom had for me. It was also the last meal she would ever cook for me. Two months after the birth of my youngest daughter, now 6 years old, and one month after mom’s 80th birthday, she passed away suddenly. While failing in her later years, her life had been one that she enjoyed. She’d had fun. Her laugh was as jovial on the last day we spoke as I remembered almost 4 decades earlier. My father, now 91 years old, is still surviving and lives in a little condo with his dog Lucky. The picture frames are full of the good times he and my mother had.

So while I’m offering up to you today a simple recipe that you can download from just about any cooking site, it’s the story that matters to me. I wish I could tell you I pulled this from an old recipe box (mom did have one). That might make the story a little better but that’s not really how things worked in our family. While I adapted this recipe myself, I still got a little choked up putting it on the plate. This is the first stuffed pepper I’ve had since mom made them for me. It was heaven.

Stuffed Bell Peppers



Note: My mom used only ground beef. I chose equal parts ground beef, pork and veal. Some recipes will call for you to brown the meat before stuffing the pepper but I like the juices from the meat to be a part of the sauce. Cooking time is longer stuffing the peppers with raw meat so if you’re in a hurry, browning the meat first will save about 45 minutes of baking time. Lastly, I simmer the sauce separately beforehand. This is another step that can be omitted but I think it develops the flavors a little more.

4 bell peppers, any color
1 ½ cups cooked long grain white rice
½ lb ground beef
½ lb ground pork
½ lb ground veal
1 medium onion diced, divided
4 cloves garlic diced, divided
1 tsp smoked paprika
1 tsp cumin
1 egg
28 oz can crushed tomatoes
Fresh grated parmesan cheese to taste
Salt and pepper to taste

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Cut the tops off the peppers (reserve one or two tops) and remove the seeds and ribs. Blanch the peppers in the water making sure to submerge entire pepper. Remove to an ice bath after 2 minutes. Dice the reserved pepper tops.

In a large sauté pan, sauté ½ of the onion and ½ of the garlic in a tsp of olive oil over medium heat just until fragrant. Add the can of tomatoes, reduce heat to low and simmer. Season with salt and pepper.

In a mixing bowl, combine the rice, ground meat, diced pepper tops, remaining onions and garlic along with the egg, paprika, cumin and season to taste with salt and pepper. Stuff each pepper with meat and rice mixture. If there is left over mixture, add it to the sauce.

Arrange the stuffed peppers in a baking dish upright. Pour the sauce over the top of the peppers after it has simmered 10-15 minutes. Grate a layer of fresh parmesan cheese over the top and bake for an hour or until the internal temperature of the pepper is 160 degrees.

Let rest for 10 minutes and serve.

Serves 4.

Vacation time -Colorado

Ah, vacation. That sliver of time we all look forward to. The reward we give ourselves for months of hard work. It seems there really isn’t enough play time in life after the age of, say, 10. Lisa and I haven’t had a real vacation in years. Sure, we’ve whisked away for a weekend here or there and we’ve certainly done our parenting duty by making sure our Floridian family has seen Mickey numerous times, but to get on a plane and escape the worries of the daily grind is just something that has eluded us. Well, no longer. We decided some months ago, at the urging of our never-seen-snow-before daughter, that we were going somewhere so that Olivia could make snow angels and go sledding. This led us to Colorado. It wasn’t by pure coincidence that we chose Colorado. Some dear friends of ours –Rob, Christine and their two boys, moved to a little town between Boulder and Denver last spring so we took them up on their numerous offers for a visit.

I’m not going to say there aren’t nicer folks on the planet than our hosts simply because I have yet to meet all 6.7 billion people here on Earth, but if they exist, I haven’t met them. Rob and Chris bought their home with house guests in mind. Their 5 bedroom house has a finished basement with a bedroom, living area –complete with flat panel TV and separate bathroom –and they love to have company. This was perfect. For 5 cold January days, this was our base from which we explored the rugged Colorado countryside and, yes, Olivia got to make her snow angel. And while I could go on to detail the fun we had in our adventures from Rocky Mountain National Park, Estes Park, Boulder, Ft. Collins and Wyoming, I really really want to tell you about the food.

Boulder was our first stop. After a visit to the Butterfly Pavilion (essentially a bug museum) we stopped in a little southwestern café called Zolo Grill for lunch. As always, Urbanspoon.com gets credit for this find. Being packed on a Saturday for lunch is a good sign that the food is worth waiting for –and it was. For starters, we wanted some chips with queso fundido (melted cheese).

This is a fairly common southwestern menu item. Lots of liberty can be taken with the recipes for queso fundido but here, goat cheese and roasted garlic are mixed with traditional Mexican cheese to create a spectacular appetizer. Warm tortillas and house made chips are served along with a red pepper jelly. I could have eaten several helpings of this and called it a day. Next I had the blue corn fried oysters with house slaw and jalapeño crema.

Coming from the gulf coast of Florida, I found the oysters to be a little small but they were no less tasty than any other. The blue corn crust was light and added a great crispy texture that hid the creamy oyster underneath. My Chicken enchiladas that followed were equally perfect with that deep flavor of the southwest that can’t be reproduced on my side of the Mississippi. We had a terrific lunch then perused the shops and galleries that downtown Boulder had to offer. What a perfect day.

One of my goals of the trip was to drive the hour-and-a-half north to the Wyoming border just so I could say I’d been to Wyoming. There were only 5 states left on my list to see (now only 4 –I crossed Alaska and Hawaii off the list years ago). The plan was to get up early and make the drive alone so as not to disturb the two families but when I brought this to everyone’s attention, they all wanted to go. Aside from the backdrop of the majestic Rockies to the west, the drive was unimpressive –and so was Cheyenne. This prairie city is a small cropping of buildings and convergence of railroad lines. I’ve never seen the movie Natural Born Killers but it could have easily been filmed in Cheyenne. We stayed long enough to fill the tank and use the bathroom and promptly left. Lunch was in the downtown square of Ft. Collins. Coopersmith’s Pub was the perfect place for a bite. The brew and ale house serves a hearty selection of their specially crafted beers as well as the standard fare one would expect in this type of haunt with a few unique specialties. Things like BBQ brisket, Prime Rib sandwiches and smoked turkey are standard but Applewood smoked salmon and brie quesadillas or the house made pretzels are not. Their Highland Cottage Pie caught my attention immediately. Beer and herb marinated lamb served in a pastry bowl with vegetables and topped with mashed potatoes, this was a Sheppard’s Pie/Pot Pie hybrid and I loved it.

Chuck wagon fare as I envisioned it. I have to give a shout out to my old colleague and friend, Jon, who dropped in on no notice when I called his cell and surprised him. I’m glad I got to see him. Lunch was great.

Across from the pub was an ice rink in the center of the square. This did not go unnoticed and soon Olivia, Christopher and Matthew all donned skates and were sliding around the ice. Growing up in Florida, I have never had the opportunity to ice skate and I can honestly say it has zero appeal for me. I grew up diving, spear fishing and water skiing and I think that’s where I’ll leave my passion for the outdoors. Still, the smiles on those kid’s faces will be a memory that I will carry forever. I sat and watched happily.

We saved our special night out for Denver and a landmark restaurant. While there are finer restaurants in Denver, there is none more unique or old west than The Buckhorn Exchange.I can describe this place no better than their own website:

“Denver’s original steakhouse, The Buckhorn Exchange is located in the city’s oldest neighborhood, just 5-minutes from downtown Denver ... This National Historic Landmark and Western Museum has been serving the finest in Old West fare since 1893.

Prime grade beef steaks, buffalo prime rib, elk, salmon, quail, game hen, and succulent baby-back pork ribs are just some of the marvelous offerings on the Buckhorn menu. Exotic appetizers such as alligator tail, rattlesnake and buffalo sausage are available, and no dinner is complete without the house specialty, Rocky Mountain Oysters.”

After reading about this place online, I had to try it. I have to say, my entrée was superb. I chose medium rare elk tenderloin and 2 quail.


Both were succulent and perfectly grilled. The rest of the dining experience was a bit underwhelming though. From the salads to the appetizers (Olivia’s gator –which she loves –wasn’t very good and my rattlesnake was hidden in a flavorless dip), we were quite unimpressed. When I saw the menu, I immediately knew we were going to have trouble finding Lisa something to eat. The epitome of picky eaters, they had little to offer her but she settled on a pot roast and she loved it. I was glad.

Even if our dinner was a mixed bag, the experience is incomparable. Every corner of the restaurant is a tribute to the old west. From the wagon on the patio, to the magnificent taxidermy heads that adorn the walls to the guns and other various items on display, The Buckhorn Exchange reminds us in a modern way how rugged life out here once was.

If you’re not in the mood to spend a small fortune on a dinner, I recommend a trip to the second floor bar that has an authentic parlor seating area to just relax and take in the museum feel to the place.

The next morning, we packed up and left our friend’s house. Vacation over for them too, they were getting back to their morning routine of work and school as we left. Our love and gratitude for Rob and Christine Balzano’s friendship and hospitality can’t be expressed in words. It was a special week for all of us.

Stay tuned next year as we are planning a ski week in Steamboat. I’ll be lucky to survive that.

Tony Packo's Cafe -A Toledo Gem

Looking back through my blog, one might think I stick to pretentious foods. In the past few months, I’ve written about steak houses, eating in New York or Chicago or Miami, hundred dollar dinners for one etc. But if you dig deeper –I talk about cheese steaks and hamburgers and ribs too. What I really try to do is find whatever I think is terrific and if it’s a slice of foie gras atop veal with shaved truffles or if it’s a juicy cheeseburger, I’ll eat it, love it and write about it. I have found terrific food from coast to coast –small towns like Owensboro, Kentucky (where you have got to visit the Moonlight Bar-BQ and try the mutton) to the big city (South Beach’s Puerta Sagua has a Cuban pig’s feet stew that I just can’t resist when it’s on the menu), there is no one fare that inspires me more than the other.

Tony Packo’s in Toledo, Ohio is one such place. Food, atmosphere and history all in one perfect hot dog joint –and they don’t even serve hot dogs! Let me explain. In 1932, a Hungarian immigrant named (you guessed it) Tony Packo borrowed a few bucks from family. This was no small feat during the great depression. He then opened what would go on to be a successful family business. His “hot dog” was really a type of sausage called Kolbász, which tastes a lot like a cross between a hot dog and a kielbasa. About twice the size of a hot dog, he sliced it in half so it wasn’t like eating a sausage. Today’s versions are no more creative than other hot dog joints, but the fresh dog, house made chili and other offerings, such as pork and beef stuffed cabbage in sour cream sauce, keep Tony Packo’s bustling year round. Toledoans know their Hungarian food.

While Tony Packo’s might have been well known to the folks in Toledo, it might have remained another tasty but obscure little local treasure had it not been for the 1970’s and 1980’s hit TV show M*A*S*H*. For those of us who grew up watching this still-to-be-outdone comedy, one might recall Tony Packo’s being brought to the spotlight by Cpl. Max Klinger. In the character’s never ending quest to be kicked out of the ARMY and move back to his beloved Toledo, he referenced Tony Packo’s numerous times in the series. In one episode, they ordered sausage casings from Tony’s so they could be used as blood filters (crude dialysis) when the ARMY requisitioning process was too cumbersome. Jaime Farr, who played Klinger and is also a Toledo native, suddenly made Tony Packo’s a national sensation.

Since then, they have opened numerous locations in and around Toledo, but it’s the original, albeit expanded, restaurant that has the sense of nostalgia brought to light in the TV show. Hanging stained glass table lights and dark paneled walls reflect the origins of the place. The 1930’s and 40’s don’t seem so long ago. What is newer are all of the signed Hot Dog buns on the walls. There are hundreds of glass encased buns signed by every celebrity and politician that have passed through these doors since the first bun signing by Burt Reynolds in the 70’s.


For my meal, I ordered more than I could eat but I had to try what they were famous for on several fronts. Like a poker player salivating at a royal flush, if I see fried pickles on a menu, I’m all in. Served with 3 different dipping sauces –notably a spicy ketchup, their house made pickles are perfect for frying.

Tart, vinegar-y flavors layered with that welcoming fried texture and unique ketchup, I thought these were some of the best fried pickles I’d ever tasted. Next came the chili. It was pretty good but also pretty standard. Nothing jumped out at me flavor-wise, but I have to admit, I’m jaded with Chili. Still, it was perfect for dog topping. By now I’m starting to get full and I have 2 more things to taste. The stuffed cabbage was next. Braised and reduced in sour cream sauce, this Hungarian-spiced, meat-filled roll was terrific. My grandmother’s family was also from the “old country” and this food reminded me of my childhood. Sweet cabbage leaves filled with savory pork and beef is an art. I only finished a small portion of this because I knew the dog was coming. I ate the rest the next day. Lastly came the chili laden half sausage with mustard and onions (always my choice for toppings) and cheese to be layered on top.

One bite and I could see what Cpl. Klinger was homesick for. Not completely a hot dog and not completely a sausage, this creation that is cased on premises is so unique and delicious, I don’t believe I can find anything like it anywhere else.

I don’t expect anyone will head off to Toledo just to try Tony Packo’s but if you are ever in the area (30 minutes south of Detroit and 30 minutes west of Cedar Point –roller coaster capitol of the world), you have got to stop in and try this one-of-a-kind establishment. Thank goodness I have family not far away, because I will be visiting this gem-of-a-find again.

Stone Crabs

Stone Crabs are one of the real jewels from the gulf coast. Until I started traveling extensively, I didn’t give much thought to how lucky us Floridians were to have these delightful creatures in our backyard. If you enjoy seafood, you must love this crab too. Harvested from October to May, Stone crabs are fished in a unique way. They are caught in a standard crab trap whose buoys dot the shallow gulf waters. Only the claws (usually one) are removed and the animal is returned to the briny deep. There they will grow another in 12-18 months. This is quite a sustainable model. The claws are then cooked at the docks before being shipped to restaurants or fishmongers. Any delay in cooking would make the meat stick to the claw and very difficult to eat. This process makes for a consistent delicacy no matter where you eat them. For this reason, it would be difficult to write about the best place to eat Stone Crabs but there are a few tips I can offer so that you have the best possible experience.

There are 3 things to keep in mind when deciding to invest in a meal of Stone Crab. They are, after all, one of the most expensive pound for pound products the ocean has to offer. First, and most important, is freshness. Whether you are buying them from a fishmonger to eat at home or going to a restaurant, you should ask when they came out of the water. For me, a few days are max to get a great tasting fresh meat. Anything longer and the meat begins to take on that frozen taste. In my experience, though, it’s not difficult to find fresh Stone Crabs. Most places I‘ve been turn their product over very quickly so freshness isn’t usually an issue. I stay away from the grocery stores. Even if the guy behind the counter says they came in that day, he has no clue about the lag time from the water to his cooler. Too risky.

Then there’s size. This can be a bit tricky. They come in a few different size varieties from medium to jumbo. I’ve heard people say that a particular size produces a sweeter meat but I have not found this to be true. For this reason, I say get the biggest claw you can. The amount of work to get meat from a smaller claw is less worth it for me. Restaurants will always serve it with the claws already cracked. If you are taking the claws home from the seafood store, you’ll have to do this yourself. This video can help get into this thick shelled armor.

Lastly, I have to mention price. Cheaper is not always better but neither is most expensive. The above mentioned size and freshness play into the cost but so does abundance and demand. A season with heavy winter storms drives the price up as harvests are reduced. What I can buy for $12/lb one week can be $25/lb the next. You should be flexible if you can and not expect consistent prices.

If you are lucky enough to live on or visit the Gulf Coast anywhere from Texas to Key West, you can snatch up this amazingly sweet crab claw which is my all time favorite seafood. In restaurants it is usually served with some sort of remoulade, butter or Dijon sauce; all of which I adore. Cocktail sauce would be heresy, in my humble opinion. My favorite place in Tampa Bay is Frenchy’s Rockaway Grill on Clearwater Beach. They have their own fleet of fishing boats and the claws are always succulent and perfect. The rest of their menu is pretty awesome too, by the way. There supply has been limited at times, but otherwise they are some of the best. In the Miami area, I recommend Billy’s Stone Crab (that’s where I snapped this photo) on Hollywood Beach.

A bit too formal of a place to eat Stone Crab (I prefer the seaside shack environment), I still found their claws to be superbly fresh and the view of the mega yachts that travel the adjacent waterway is pretty cool. Probably the most famous place to eat Stone Crabs would be Joe’s Stone Crab on Miami Beach, but there you are truly paying for the name. Let the Euro-tourists drop their currency there. You don’t see too many locals.

I hope some of these tips help you with an amazing gastronomic experience.

Hiatus

For the few folks who have emailed me wondering where I've been, I apologize for no updates. Life is good; great even. I started a new job in November and have relocated to Ft. Lauderdale (during the week). There just haven't been enough hours in the day. Still, I continue to explore, cook and meet new people. The coming months should be promising with the upcoming South Beach Wine and Food Festival (February) and a pending celebrity chef collaboration. Please, bear with me and most importantly, Have a happy health and prosperous New Year. Stay tuned.

Whatever your tradition, Happy Thanksgiving

3:30 a.m. on Thanksgiving morning and I’m wide awake. I’m writing this from a little town dotted in the middle of a cornfield (literally) in Northwestern Ohio. This is where Lisa’s family lives and where I’m thankful she escaped from. If I wanted a life partner that hails from some romantic far-off shore, I looked in the wrong place. Her family is as pure bred mid western American as it gets. All are hard working with a do-the-right-thing mentality. They were warm and inviting when I met them for the first time – 10 Thanksgivings ago –and they are no less today. Lisa’s Dad is an interesting man. He’s a guy that can fix anything and he is quite accepting of the fact that I can fix nothing. Instead of lecturing me on how I should possess some of these qualities, he just brings his tool box down to Florida a couple of times a year and swings his hammer around my house until the jobs are done. He’s fixed soffits, rewired rooms, built gates, installed lighting and generally picked up the slack for his inept son-in-law. His conversation is intelligent and engaging. I love when this guy visits and I love visiting him. So here I am.

Earlier this month I wanted to get a traditional Thanksgiving recipe up since I haven’t written a new recipe in a while. I’ve come to realize that wasn’t going to happen. It turns out my life isn’t very traditional. Currier and Ives has no colorful depiction of my last 43 years. Now this isn’t a complaint, mind you, just a fact. I’ve travelled for a living for the past 7 years and I now have an apartment in Ft. Lauderdale where I spend my weeks as my family continues their life 4 hours away. As a very young boy, I recall a family steeped in tradition. We all gathered at Grandma’s house (on my mom’s side) in Erie, Pennsylvania and sat at one very long table that ran the entire length of their formal dining room. I remember saying grace then passing around platter after platter of very traditional fare. From a foodie point of view in the 21st century, most of you would have been appalled. Boxed, canned and processed was considered en vogue. In the 1960’s, canned foods were in their adolescence and the idea of opening canned corn and canned cranberry sauce was way more appealing than making it. I was well into my 30’s before canned vegetables disappeared from my own pantry. Still, it was these moments that I remember from my earliest Thanksgivings and Christmases that are the only remnants of true traditional family holidays.

When I was 6, we moved to Florida permanently. Like many others, my folks really needed to escape the cold weather. Winters in Erie could be brutal. My dad’s parents had already made the break to the south some years earlier and we had spent a year there when I was about 3 before returning to the snow. We actually rented a place just a few blocks from where I currently live on Lake Tarpon while my parents had a house built. We returned to Erie a few more times over the years for occasional holidays and family get-togethers. Our last big family gathering was when I was 16 for my grandmother’s 90th birthday. All my cousins and aunts and uncles celebrated her joyous life. She was humble and ladylike in all she did. She never wore pants, only skirts or dresses, and her hair and makeup were always done just subtly perfect. I was her youngest grandchild and she paid me every bit of attention that a youngest grandchild could ever hope for. The next year, grandma died. She left with me, though, the memory of a striking woman who took her matriarchal responsibilities very seriously. Now that mom and her siblings are also all gone, I’m glad I had those times.

After those early years, holidays became a hodgepodge. When we didn’t go up north, we would have Thanksgiving and Christmas with just the three of us. It was caring and loving and I was oh-so-thankful that I could ride a new bike on Christmas morning without the cold, but there was something missing without the family all gathered together. When I started my own family, I was in the military where tradition is hard to maintain. Then my colorful 20’s produced a couple of marriages and 5 kids. This made it even more impossible to make holiday gatherings consistent. Make no mistake, we’ve had spectacular holidays. It’s really about surrounding yourself with those you love and not who’s house you gather at. My kids and I have managed to be together most holidays and for that I am grateful.

Being with Lisa’s family transports me back to a time when I was a child. Her dad’s house has the same creaky floors that grandma’s did. They use a tea kettle that whistles and the coffee is instant. When we gather later today at Aunt Linda’s house, the cranberry sauce will come from a can and I will eat it. The green bean casserole will be topped with canned fried onions and I will eat it. There will not be one dish from Bon Appétit magazine or The Food Network or anywhere else other than the 3x5 card index that Aunt Linda has been using for as long as she’s been making the holiday meal. I can’t wait for the raspberry pie (made with raspberry jell-o, sugar, cornstarch and frozen raspberries). The kids will run around like mad, the ladies will gather and chat and the guys will gawk at the always lopsided Thanksgiving football games. Later, a friendly card game will develop in the basement where I plan to clean out Aunt Betty yet another year. While I’m not with my older kids this Thanksgiving, I am helping my 5-year-old Olivia form her future tradition with Lisa’s family. My wish is that she grows to cherish that as I did.

Sorry for no Thanksgiving holiday recipe this year (it is a food blog after all), but instead just a hope and wish for you to be surrounded by loving family. I do plan on cooking for Christmas and I do plan on playing with a few new recipes for the holiday meal, so I will be sharing that in the coming weeks.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!!!!