Pass The Cranberries

Thanksgiving is upon us again. This year I will be cooking dinner for my brother and his family, which means The Artist Formerly Known As Pablo, and his lovely wife will be joining us! I don't get to spend nearly enough time with that boy, but hopefully that will change now that they are back in this area. 

I know I have a few other blog posts about Thanksgiving, you'll definitely want to find the one with my best holiday story, involving Pablo's father when he was little. I'm currently writing with my phone, and I'm uncertain how to link to it. If I figure it out, I'll put it here.* Santa is bringing me a lap top this year,  because I'm dusting off this corner. I have a lot to say. A.Lot.To.Say.

The other day I saw this

and it made me laugh, because the top picture was my Mom, and the bottom has always been me.

Then I started thinking about her homemade cranberry Jelly, and it took me right back to the kitchen of my youth. Come along with me! Picture it, 1970 something. The cozy kitchen is painted pumpkin orange, and the appliances are avacado green. There is a big kettle on the stove, boiling fresh cranberries. Mom, or Grandma Leni, who lived with us on the weekends would be minding it, and stirring occasionally. Maybe we were allowed to when we were older, but not then. 

On the kitchen table Mom had her fruit press set out in a bowl. I thought maybe my sister still had it, but no. Neither of us like cranberries, so it's gone. I can't find an accurate picture on the internet, but here is today's version. Similar, but more flimsy. 

It took a half an hour just to figure out what this is called! When I put "cranberry press 

" in the Google machine it showed me some festive holiday adult beverages. 

To the best of my recollection the steaming hot berries were drained, (maybe not totally)  then poured into this press a bit at a time. MOM would use the pestal looking thing a-ma- bob, which was bigger than in the picture, and stained red from years of squishing cranberries, to mash the cranberries, and she did let us help with that. I remember the pungent, sour smell, and the heat coming off the mush left behind. 

The liquid was returned to the pot, sugar was added, and it went back on the burner. More stirring, more bubbling, then like magic, it was jelly!

Next up on the kitchen table were the iced tea glasses. We would see these tall amber glasses on the table for dinner on very hot summer days, (so....twice a summer?) and then Mom used them to serve the cranberry gel.(what she called it)  the glasses were pretty similar to this, and also no longer in the family. 

All of this would have happened the Saterday or Sunday before Thanksgiving, and I'm sure we used the gel as a side right up til Christmas. Uh, we, meaning other people in my family, definitely not me, and apparently not my sister either. 

It was tempting though. The jelly smelled good, and was such a pretty red color! I know I tried it every year, I still do. I always think that it was a mistake, I must really like it. I do not. I also burned myself every single year, because I had to touch that beautiful red jelly, newly in the amber glass. It was too tempting! I would still do it now, if I could. 

I have never made the gel myself, mine comes from a can, and for the first time in my life I didn't even buy one. No one likes it, no one eats it, why do I buy it?  However, I will miss it. That little blob of gel on a plate, with rings around it from the can. Is it even Thanksgiving without it?  There are a couple days left, who knows......

Happy Thanksgiving!  Maybe this year I will put the turkey right side up in the roaster! 😀 

*In trying to find the story of my naughty brother, I found "Thanksgiving Eve" which I originally published in 2011, and at the end of that blog is a link to the one I was talking about! Due to my "I don't know what I'm doing." It is republished right after this blog. So, easy peasy!