Holiday Goodies

Thanksgiving may be my favorite holiday. Families gather. And as they surround the dining table they celebrate and give thanks for all blessings, including the bountiful meal before them.

When my mom was living, she prepared most of the Thanksgiving meal herself. Trying to please everyone, she’d make baseball-sized dumplings and sauerkraut for my German dad, lump-free mashed potatoes for the grandchildren, sweet potatoes with a crunchy topping of melted marshmallows for her daughter-in-law, stuffing for her son-in-law, and lentils for herself and me. My brother wasn’t hard to please. I think he ate everything. And, of course, there was always a huge turkey. I am not kidding when I say there was hardly room on the table for our dinner plates.

Not to be forgotten was the wild rice. In Minnesota, where wild rice is plentiful, most cooks have favorite ways to prepare this “gourmet grain.” It seems my mom could never come up with a recipe that lived up to her expectations. Too dry, too mushy, not enough flavor, too much sage or thyme…just never quite right. Her wild rice challenges may have been due to the fact she had been transplanted in Minnesota from Indiana, where she had never even heard of this aquatic grass seed, the only grain native to the North American continent.

I used to have a fear of doing things on my own. This included going shopping, going to the movies, and going to sporting events. Now walking into a coffee shop in Rome, at age 22, I am completely void of that fear, and I am as thankful as ever for overcoming it.

I have just walked into Caffe Della Pace, placed behind one of the most beautiful piazzas in all of Rome—Piazza Navona. With the option of sitting outside or in, I choose in, as the air on this December morning is brisk. I am told that I not only have the choice to sit inside or outside, but that I can pick any table in the entire cafe—which is composed of two large rooms. The front room, which I have just walked into, is full, and so I venture into the back room. ‘This is perfect,’ I think to myself. ‘No one is back here.’ I spot a table on a lower level of the room next to a backdoor. The table has three seats, but I don’t mind because there is a statue placed to the side of the table that can keep me company.

The waitress follows me as I sit down and hands me a menu. Quickly, I say, “Pronto,” which means “I am ready,” in Italian “Un cappuccino e cornetta con cioccolato per favore,” I say, which translates to “A cappuccino and a chocolate croissant, please.” She smiles at me and says, “Si,” before walking away with my menu.

Allen Byers was a creature of habit.  He made traditional stuffing, took a nap at the same time every day and was better at giving presents in June then he was at Christmas.  Although I never would have dared suggest changing his nap time, one year I did work up the courage to suggest he try a stuffing recipe from his favorite cookbook, THE ALICE'S RESTAURANT COOKBOOK.  Even though what the book proudly declared was Alice's favorite stuffing didn't call for any of the traditional ingredients, he let me talk him into trying it. 

I first tried this exotic guacamole a couple of years ago at my good friend Robert’s Christmas party. His mother was in town that year and helped prepare some most of the incredible food on the buffet table.

His mother Anita is the kindest woman and has had an extraordinary life -- a true treasure and absolute delight. We bonded at that party by sharing recipe secrets and continue to correspond to this day about favorite foods and cooking techniques. When I asked if she would tell me how to prepare her famous pomegranate guacamole, she graciously emailed me the instructions, explaining that it was a recipe from her mom´s hometown, Guanajuato.

I’ve taken the liberty to list some precise measurements, but in full disclosure, Anita sent the list of ingredients and just put “to taste” after each item (she wrote, “No real amounts, but you are an excellent cook and I am sure you can eyeball it perfectly”.)