Holiday Memories

We asked our crew for a good holiday food story. We all have them....a horror story of how the turkey sat in an oven that never actually got turned on, a bragging rights story about the most perfect apple pie ever, etc. 

We loved the following story from Shelley Lance, and couldn't wait to share it. 

At the time of this story, my husband, Frank, and I had been celebrating Thanksgiving with the same group of friends for several years. On this particular Thanksgiving, we pulled up to the curb outside our friends’ house, the car loaded down with our usual contributions: pies, bottles of wine, casserole dishes full of vegetables and stuffing, etc. As we lugged our heavy boxes up the stairs to our friends’ house, I subliminally noticed the house had been repainted a new color and also had bright new window boxes. A friendly man that I didn’t know and an equally friendly dog greeted us at the door. The man helped us with our boxes and ushered us into the kitchen. As soon as I walked inside, I realized our mistake— this was the wrong house! The funniest part of the story: Frank had moved from the kitchen to the living room and was comfortably chatting with the other guests. When we finally extricated ourselves with embarrassed apologies and were dragging our boxes over to our friends’ actual house (right next door), I asked Frank who he thought he was talking to. “Oh, wasn’t that so and so’s wife?” he asked. Morals of the story: if you’re carrying enough pies and bottles of wine, most people will welcome you into their home. Also, to my husband, everyone looks vaguely familiar.

This family story is from Will Russell, who works with us in the kitchen at the Dahlia Lounge.

Until my 10th Christmas, I had always associated the holidays with paper plates, barbecue, potato chips, and a bounty of red and green Jell-O in the shape of a Christmas tree, decorated with maraschino cherries to signify ornaments and lights. My parents would drink Dixie beer and talk with our neighbors on the Army Base in Texas, where we were stationed, while all of us kids ran amuk. Christmas Day was more about having fun than sitting down with family and eating. That all changed the year our grandmother came for a visit.

She arrived, to my mother’s amazement, with china, cutlery, linen and boxes full of foodstuffs containing aromas & flavors I had no idea existed. In the week leading up to Christmas, she transformed our kitchen from a TV dinner transfer station to a palace of mysterious and sublime tastes, smells and textures. With her arrival I was transformed from a simple eater into an epicure. With her French country accent and patient loving manner, she gave me the knowledge of food and it’s preparation that left an indelible mark on me. 

Our Christmas dinner that year changed from something peripheral to an event worthy of our undivided attention. Our table was laden with beautiful bone china serving dishes and platters filled with the most amazing foods I had ever seen. With every taste I felt the significance of community and the intimacy a great meal brings to a family table. For our dessert, my grandmother took great care in assembling an enormous croquembouche, a tower of delicate profiteroles filled with sweet creamy custard & wrapped in an ethereal twine of spun sugar. Eating such a perfect creation I knew two things: I would never experience food the same way, and never would I eat Jell-O again.

Do you have an unforgettable holiday food story? Send it in to office@tomdouglas.com or mail to: 2030 5th Ave, Seattle 98121. Your story may be chosen to be read on air for Tom Douglas' Seattle Kitchen on Newsradio 710 KIRO!

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