My most important food moment came to me this Thanksgiving. As a young girl, I loved to watch my father carve the turkey. I would sit at the kitchen counter while he expertly maneuvered his electric knife. The way he carved a turkey changed over the years, and he would always impart his new found wisdom on me why this new way was better than the others. But what I loved the most was sneaking the turkey off the platter seconds after he cut it. It was still warm and juicy. We would eat the skin, which was a big no-no with mom. We would share a guilty smile and munch away. By the time everyone sat to eat, we had eaten what we wanted of the turkey.
This Thanksgiving, after the turkey sat 30 minutes and was now time to carve, I stood in the corner of the kitchen and started the electric knife, ready to begin. I looked up, and there was my dad, watching me the way I had watched him as a girl. He reached out to eat the juicy hot turkey, and I had to join him. I pulled off some crunchy skin and split it with him, smiling a co-conspiring smirk. We ate our fill of turkey. My dad is almost 80 years old, and I think this is my favorite food moment–as I ponder on the possibility of more Thanksgiving smirks.
North Dighton, Mass.