As I cut up the second half of the turkey this morning after our early Thanksgiving meal last night, I thought about all the Thanksgiving meals I had growing up and how satisfying they always were. We didn’t have the most gourmet or homemade items on the table, but regardless of that, every year, it was always a meal that everyone looked forward to. Ed’s favorite was always the Stovestop stuffing out of a box; the texture was always perfect, and I suppose it was designed that way. As a kid, I enjoyed mushing up the canned cranberry jelly sauce on my plate every year and smashing it against my roasted turkey pieces. Sometimes, I get nostalgic about it and wonder if I’d ever actually buy it again myself, but then I remember my Chris, who doesn’t understand the purpose of any cranberry sauce at any Christmas or Thanksgiving table, homemade like I’ve always done with him, or from a can. He only eats it out of obligation because I make it and insist that it be there. My uncle would roast and carve the turkey and make a thick gravy. We’d have a generic lettuce and tomato salad with Thousand Island dressing. My dad would make homemade cut buttery, flaky biscuits. It was his thing every year, along with his signature German-style cheesecake made from cottage cheese, not cream cheese, meaning it was alway lighter and fluffier.

But what I also looked forward to, sometimes even more than the actual Thanksgiving meal, was all the food made from the Thanksgiving leftovers: the turkey club sandwiches my dad would make the day after, adding bacon, lettuce, tomato, turkey, in between thick cut slices of good quality toasted bread with mayonnaise. Then, there was the very Chinese American turkey rice porridge or jook. It was like a “cleanse” of sorts after having all that heavy celebratory Thanksgiving food. I remember these food memories fondly every year.

I’m sure this is the case with many people when they reflect on their families, but many of my happiest childhood memories are around food. Food is what brings families together, regardless of how happy or dysfunctional they are. It brings at least the appearance of togetherness around one table.