The Blogtaris were home in PA this weekend for Thanksgiving. As expected, CinS hit all the suburban hotspots while I read quietly on the couch. But because of the holiday, this weekend visit was a little different from the usual trip to the 'burbs.
Thanksgiving always makes me a nostalgic for the Thanksgivings of my youth. When I was young, my parents and I always packed in the car and headed down the shore to my Bubby and Poppy's house in Margate, NJ where we would meet up with my Aunt and cousins.
Every holiday was the same. We would begin our drive early in the day, stop at McDonalds for chicken mcnuggets, and arrive in Margate around 2pm. My dad would watch football while my mom and Aunt tried in vain to help Bubby with Thanksgiving dinner. We would aim to sit at the table around 6, but ended up stalling for 1-2 hours until we decided the turkey was actually done.
We would eat candied sweet potatoes and slimy cranberry sauce from the plastic tub. My dad would load his plate with peas and dark meat. We drank Diet Coke out of heavy crystal goblets.
After eating, the men would retire to the den with a fresh pot of coffee. The ladies would do the dishes. About an hour after dinner, we would have our pie. My Bubby would serve fresh whipped cream on top of a supermarket pie. We would head home.
Since my grandparents passed away, Thanksgiving has been a more intimate affair. CinS and I rotate between our parent's homes for Thanksgiving each year, leaving my parents to vacation in their years "off." But when we are at home, my mom goes all out.
This year, my mom's food was supplemented with some cheesy potato casserole that CinS prepared and my famous pumpkin cheese pie. The pie is famous for many reasons.
Reason number one: Half my family loves it, the other half hates it. The pumpkin cheese pie made its debut at a Margate Thanksgiving where the extended family had the pleasure of trying this new pie. My Bubby hated it and refused to serve it as the only pumpkin pie option in future years. I think she was secretly resentful of those of us who opted for the cheese pie in lieu of the standard-issue. But what's most interesting to me is that when it was "our" pie vs. Bubby's, my mom loved our pie. But now that our pie stands alone, my mom claims to hate the pie. She won't eat it, and in true-Bubby style, serves alternate pies to our small party of 4. And just like Bubby, I noticed a glimmer of resentment when my pie was finished before her pumpkin pecan alternative this year.
Reason number two: My pie requires no cooking. Yes, there is a reason that it is called a pumpkin cheese pie and not a pumpkin cheesecake. First, it is a pie. Second, I'm pretty sure cheesecake requires an oven. My pie is basically a pudding pie. A pudding pie with a cheese (cream) layer and a pumpkin layer, hence a pumpkin (space) cheese pie.
Reason number three: My pie gets botched almost every year. The problems with the pie are many. The main reason for the trouble is that the layers include so much filling that the pie lid can no longer cover the pie, making transport (to the table, let alone to Bubby's house) a challenge. Attempts to lessen the bulk of the layers results in funky tasting pie that needs to be treated with flavored coffee mate to salvage the taste. I am proud to say that this year, the pie was problem free and ridiculously good. It could be because I stopped kidding myself and used full fat, full sugar ingredients. Or it could be that it was made with extra love.
But despite the pie's history, it will be a staple of the Blogtari Thanksgiving for many years to come. It takes me back to Thanksgivings down the shore and all the fond memories of celebrating with my family, no matter if I am in NJ, PA or CA. All I need is a west coast pie rivalry to make the holiday complete.
Thanksgiving always makes me a nostalgic for the Thanksgivings of my youth. When I was young, my parents and I always packed in the car and headed down the shore to my Bubby and Poppy's house in Margate, NJ where we would meet up with my Aunt and cousins.
Every holiday was the same. We would begin our drive early in the day, stop at McDonalds for chicken mcnuggets, and arrive in Margate around 2pm. My dad would watch football while my mom and Aunt tried in vain to help Bubby with Thanksgiving dinner. We would aim to sit at the table around 6, but ended up stalling for 1-2 hours until we decided the turkey was actually done.
We would eat candied sweet potatoes and slimy cranberry sauce from the plastic tub. My dad would load his plate with peas and dark meat. We drank Diet Coke out of heavy crystal goblets.
After eating, the men would retire to the den with a fresh pot of coffee. The ladies would do the dishes. About an hour after dinner, we would have our pie. My Bubby would serve fresh whipped cream on top of a supermarket pie. We would head home.
Since my grandparents passed away, Thanksgiving has been a more intimate affair. CinS and I rotate between our parent's homes for Thanksgiving each year, leaving my parents to vacation in their years "off." But when we are at home, my mom goes all out.
This year, my mom's food was supplemented with some cheesy potato casserole that CinS prepared and my famous pumpkin cheese pie. The pie is famous for many reasons.
Reason number one: Half my family loves it, the other half hates it. The pumpkin cheese pie made its debut at a Margate Thanksgiving where the extended family had the pleasure of trying this new pie. My Bubby hated it and refused to serve it as the only pumpkin pie option in future years. I think she was secretly resentful of those of us who opted for the cheese pie in lieu of the standard-issue. But what's most interesting to me is that when it was "our" pie vs. Bubby's, my mom loved our pie. But now that our pie stands alone, my mom claims to hate the pie. She won't eat it, and in true-Bubby style, serves alternate pies to our small party of 4. And just like Bubby, I noticed a glimmer of resentment when my pie was finished before her pumpkin pecan alternative this year.
Reason number two: My pie requires no cooking. Yes, there is a reason that it is called a pumpkin cheese pie and not a pumpkin cheesecake. First, it is a pie. Second, I'm pretty sure cheesecake requires an oven. My pie is basically a pudding pie. A pudding pie with a cheese (cream) layer and a pumpkin layer, hence a pumpkin (space) cheese pie.
Reason number three: My pie gets botched almost every year. The problems with the pie are many. The main reason for the trouble is that the layers include so much filling that the pie lid can no longer cover the pie, making transport (to the table, let alone to Bubby's house) a challenge. Attempts to lessen the bulk of the layers results in funky tasting pie that needs to be treated with flavored coffee mate to salvage the taste. I am proud to say that this year, the pie was problem free and ridiculously good. It could be because I stopped kidding myself and used full fat, full sugar ingredients. Or it could be that it was made with extra love.
But despite the pie's history, it will be a staple of the Blogtari Thanksgiving for many years to come. It takes me back to Thanksgivings down the shore and all the fond memories of celebrating with my family, no matter if I am in NJ, PA or CA. All I need is a west coast pie rivalry to make the holiday complete.
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