I thought I was so prepared.
I started prepping for Thanksgiving dinner two weeks in advance. I cooked pans of cornbread and biscuits for
the dressing. I bought a huge collard
plant and spent most of the Sunday afternoon before Thanksgiving cooking it. I made one last stop at the grocery store on
my way home from work Wednesday afternoon; we got off at 12. I was ready.
When I got home, I cooked sweet potatoes, and prepared the
sweet potato praline casserole so all I’d have to do was pop it in the oven with
the dressing on Thanksgiving after the turkey was done. I made the congealed salad and crumbled all
of those biscuits and cornbread for the dressing. I carefully read the tag on the turkey and
calculated when I’d need to put it in the oven so that Thanksgiving dinner
would be on the table at noon.
Thanksgiving morning, Dillon and I went for a walk. I came home, put the turkey in the oven, and started
watching the Macy’s parade. The turkey
was done by 10:30. I was ahead of
schedule! I chopped the onion for the
dressing and went to the spice cabinet for the celery seed. Mom always swore that celery seed was the key
to the dressing. She said you should
shake and shake until you thought you’d added enough, and then shake some
more. Her dressing was always
wonderful.
My carefully choreographed morning came to a grinding halt
when I couldn’t find the bottle of celery seed in the cabinet. I went through the cabinet twice, thinking I’d
just overlooked it the first time. Then
I started frantically taking spice jars out of the cabinet instead of just
pushing them around, certain that I’d find the celery seed. I remembered buying a new bottle last
year. The only bottle of celery seed I
could find was a jar with the date 2000 written in Mom’s handwriting. Oh, dear!
That’s not actually what I said, but I’m trying to keep the story PG rated.
I grabbed my purse and headed for the door. Dad looked up in surprise, but I didn’t stop
to tell him where I was going. Time was
slipping away and I could be to the grocery store and back by the time I
repeated everything until he understood what I was saying. I was only planning to be gone 5
minutes. The best laid plans. There was only an empty hole on the store
shelf where the celery seed should have been.
Okay, I’d have to go to the other Food Lion.
I dashed into the second Food Lion and found myself staring
at another empty hole on the shelf where the celery seed was supposed to
be. Another woman was also staring
intently at the shelf. “I can’t believe
they’re out of celery seed on Thanksgiving!” I said, disgusted. “That’s what my mother sent me to get,” she
replied. “Well, they’re out of it at the
store on the Avenue too,” I informed her.
“My mother is just going to have to use something else. I’m not going anywhere else,” she assured
me. Good luck with that, I thought. Most cooks aren’t big on messing with their
dressing recipe. Especially not at
Thanksgiving.
I headed for the next grocery store. Where I was once again met with an empty hole
on the shelf where the celery seed should have been. There was a man staring at shelf in
bemusement. “I hope you’re not looking
for what I’m looking for,” he told me. “I’m
looking for celery seed and there’s not a bottle in this damn town,” I
said. “There’s no paprika either,” he
said sadly. I left him still staring at
the shelf.
By that time I was beginning to panic. I don’t know how to make dressing without
celery seed. I wound up going to all 5
grocery stores in this town, plus Walmart, Big Lots, Dollar Tree and Walgreens. There was not a single bottle of celery seed
to be found in this town. My back up
plan was to serve Stove Top stuffing. Not
really an acceptable alternative, but no way was I messing up my biscuits and
cornbread by trying to substitute or omit.
I’d just freeze them for Christmas.
In desperation, I called my cousin, Janet. When I asked if she had any celery seed, she
said yes. Hope began to blossom. “Do you have enough to share?” I asked,
crossing my fingers. “Yes,” she said,
sounding a bit hesitant. “Are you sure?”
I asked. “Yes,” she said again, still
sounding doubtful. It must have been the
desperation in my voice that made her sound unsure. It turns out, she doesn’t use celery seed in
her dressing, so I guess my frantic demand for celery seed sounded a bit crazy. She met me at the door with the precious
bottle of celery seed.
I’d been gone an hour.
It was almost noon. I’m sure Dad
was wondering what on earth I was doing.
As soon as I got home, I dashed into the kitchen and started adding
celery seed to the bowl of crumbled biscuits and cornbread I’d left on the
counter. Dad went to the cabinet for the
plates to put on the table. Surely, he
realized we were not going to be eating on time. “It’ll be at least an hour,” I informed
him. Then I told him of my search. “Whenever you’re ready is fine,” he assured
me. “Everything will work out.” “It wouldn’t have without celery seed for the
dressing,” I said. Dressing is the most
important part of Thanksgiving dinner.
As soon as I popped the dressing into the oven, I e-mailed
Food Lion to let them know what I thought of their inventory control. “Your mother would have been proud,” Dad
informed me, laughing. If a company made
the mistake of having an 800 number, they were going to hear from my mother if
they didn’t perform up to her expectations.
Thanksgiving is all about family and food. We had both.
