Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. And it's only 85% to do with its food-centered-ness.
No but seriously, Thanksgiving has always been something really and truly special in my family. Maybe it's because it was the one holiday during the year that brought both sides of my family together, completely, for the whole day; Maybe it's because, for 25 years, I never celebrated it in a house built less than 200 years ago; Maybe it's because on Thanksgiving day, however chaotic, my parents (and later we daughters) steadfastly put out platters of food that smelled, tasted and looked
exactly right, a yearly reminder of the comfort and reassurance of tradition. Okay, okay, so my Turkey Day love is 50/50: Family and Food.
In my family, to be honest, those two things have always been inextricable.
So, when there was no way in God's Green Earth that Penn and I could get home for Thanksgiving this year (from our now-home in London), I went
slightly insane to the supermarket (and the farmer's market and back to the supermarket and to the corner store twice and— well, you know how it goes). In only four days, I would gather and prepare us a proper Thanksgiving Feast for Two . . . in the UK . . . while working full-time. This meant gathering
recipes along with
ingredients and taking my first whack at roasting a bird weighing more than three pounds. I knew I could handle all the dinner stuff.
Cornbread Stuffing with Leeks, Sage, Celery and Wild Boar & Apple Sausage
Anything that calls for 'dotting the top with remaining butter' is fine by me. This recipe is an adaptation of the one found here.
Green Bean Casserole with Deep Fried Leek Rings
It took all my strength not to eat all these before topping the casserole. Someday I'll share the recipe for this gorgeous fried exterior. It's good on everything.
Baked Sweet Potato and Apple with a Sherry, Brown Sugar, Sage and Butter Glaze
Dusted with cinnamon and nutmeg, of course.
Fresh Cranberry Sauce with Very Little Frills
Only a wee bit of lemon rind and sugar in the pot with the cranberries.
Oh, and The Turkey, of course.
The packaging read: "Feeds 8 minimum." Hahahhaahaaaaa Joke's on you because I just ate the last turkey sandwich from this sucker.**
Believe it or not, in the middle of it all, it was the Pumpkin Pie that scared me. All I know is that our family's famous recipe is critically-acclaimed and wildly temperamental (kinda like me!). But, it's not Thanksgiving without Pumpkin Pie. "I shall do my family proud!" I decreed.
To prepare you for the big recipe reveal to follow, you'll need a bit of history on this food-family of mine. I often forget it, but my crazy passion for food comes from a loooong line of other crazies. :) The story most relevant to my Thanksgiving endeavor is that of my grandparents' history in the food business.
Mamen and Pop-Pop weren't always called that. Margaret 'Sis' Mendillo and John 'Jack' Menzies met as toddlers. They grew up as neighbors, fought like siblings, fell in love, parted ways, endured wars, reunited, got married, and never stopped adventuring. If I really think about it, their newly-wedded years were pretty awesome. They spent years (pre-Southwest-Airlines years, mind you!) going up and down the East Coast working 'seasons' in Florida, Vermont and The Cape. My Grandfather was a cook and my Grandmother was a hostess (though she cooked up a storm in her own kitchen for sure). They served and rubbed elbows with the rich and famous of their time at some of the top destinations for people of that status.
The place we all heard about the most growing up was 'Lathams', one of the finest restaurants and inns ever on Cape Cod. (If this old postcard is to be believed, the place was subtitled,
An Inn of Distinction.) My newly-wedded grandparents worked several seasons there and there's a story for almost every day. Many of those stories involve the owner of Latham's, Pa Latham, as he was called. He was the mastermind behind this '40s-era hot-spot and the culinary genius who kept big-wigs coming back year after year. I'd bet it was Pa Latham who taught my grandfather to carve a roast like a pro, and my grandmother to host dinners fit for royalty (though I know Pop-Pop's upper-class upbringing taught them both a thing or two about polished silver and cloth napkins). One thing we
can confirm as a "Pa Latham Legacy" to my grandparents is his Pumpkin Pie recipe.
Pa Latham taught Pop-Pop, Pop-Pop taught my dad, and the extended family has enjoyed it on the last Thursday in November for decades. No one else in history has ever tried to replicate it until THIS YEAR. No pressure. (The pressure was slightly abated by the fact that my co-UK sister was also trying it for the first time up in Scotland. Phew.)
With 70 years of legacy on my shoulders, and a very hungry husband, I embarked on the great adventure to replicate
Pa Latham's Pumpkin Pie.
And I did. Wanna know how to achieve the magic? Read on...
