This weekend was Thanksgiving weekend for Canada. I went to my brother's for dinner. Actually, all my family - children, brothers, cousin, nephews, nieces, granddaughter, wife, sister-in-law, girlfriends (brother and cousin) and mum - were there. We always have a good time at these gatherings. Lots of laughs and good food. And turkey.
Speaking of turkey, growing up as the eldest son of three, it was encumbent on me to have the family dinners at my place. Being in Canada, I distinctly remember learning about Thanksgiving for the first time. School taught me about the Pilgrims and Thanksgiving. However, from my friends, I learned about the annual family reunions centered around such exotic foods as turkey, chestnut stuffing, cranberry sauce, gravy, and pumpkin pie.
In Malaysia, where my parents, brothers and I came from, we never ate turkey. Either turkeys never made it to Asia or my carnivorous ancestors adopted the belief, "Why eat turkey when you can eat chicken?"
Anyway, at some point in my adult life, I remember my brothers begging me to host a traditional Thanksgiving dinner, replete with turkey, stuffing, gravy, and sweet potatoes. I am always willing to give anything a try in order to make someone happy. The only problem was that cooking is not my strength. And really, if you have never cooked anything before, it is probably not a good idea to start with a turkey. Hell, even experienced chefs have been known to struggle with it.
The first turkey we had for Thanksgiving tasted like it was boiled in water. I was not paying attention to the cooking process. All I know is that we have never had anything as bad in our entire life. Thank God for Chinese delivery food.
Our second Thanksgiving dinner was catered by a professional chef.
However, my younger brother soon became an excellent cook and now we have all the family dinners at his place. "Say Amen for younger brothers who turn into chefs."
I tell you this story to warn you that I am not a good cook.
So if you are coming to visit, do not ask me to cook.
