
Left: The fabulous members of Thanksgiving Cooking Teams One through Three: Aravis, Rebekah, Randi, Adriana, Sadye and Mom (Jocelyn). And yes, we were matching on purpose. Photo day.
Our family doesn't have any uproariously funny Thanksgiving stories to speak of -- most of our holidays are enjoyable and crowded, but relatively tame. We always have four or five extra people hanging around our house during the holidays -- nieces and nephews, students, "adopted" family members, family-less friends.
A week before Thanksgiving, the cooking chores are split up between three teams. My mother is her own team of one, sometimes with my niece Sadye, 6, as the sidekick. My older sister Randi, 24, heads Team Two, and I am the captain of Team Three. Randi and I choose one of our younger sisters to be our "sous chef" for the cooking/baking extravaganza.
Rebekah, 17, is relatively innovative in the kitchen. She is familiar with most of the basic cooking commands, and can be trusted to execute them with a satisfactory degree of competence. She understands "chop the celery," "mince the onions," "let the broth simmer," and similar instructions that we might throw out at her. She also has been the unanimously decided "Messiest Family Member," several years in row. She has the mess-making skill of a young tropical storm.
Adriana, the youngest daughter at 15, is the newcomer to the kitchen. Three cooking older sisters has sheltered her somewhat from the necessity of learning how to cook. Her skills have had time to develop in the past few years, as Randi and I have been at school in San Diego. Her sous-chef abilities are limited, but she can carry out simple tasks with remarkable accuracy and speed when carefully instructed. She is also the neatest person in the family, surpassing our father in tidiness and organization skills. After the rare times that Ana cooks, it is almost impossible to tell that anyone has been in the kitchen recently -- or at all, for that matter. She has an uncanny ability to render the kitchen as spotless as it must have been before our brood of 8 moved in. After Ana has cleaned, the rest of the family members move through the kitchen in a daze, touching the scrubbed grout and shining stovetop with a wonderment that almost amounts to reverence.
Splitting up the cooking chores is in itself an act of negotiation rivaling the drafting of the Armistice agreement. The baking usually falls to me and my chosen sous chef. The cooking falls to Randi and hers. The macaroni and cheese and dressing is almost always the property of my mother. Once my father's side of the family agreed that her macaroni and cheese beat out my Aunt Lavonnia's, there was no going back. The daughters leave that dish alone.
There are a few exceptions -- I have done the turkey twice, and Randi always insists on making her "World Famous Pumpkin Bundt Cake." Every year I remind her that until the whole world has sampled and approved it, the cake must necessarily be known as the "Greater Area of Sacramento Famous Pumpkin Bundt Cake." An annual tradition is also the "Apple-Pie Bake-Off." Every year Team Two and Team Three make our own versions of the American favorite and badger our family members into trying both and voting on which is the best. Mine tends to be slightly overbaked. Hers tends to be grossly over-spiced.
On Thanksgiving, the sisters cook for most of the day. We set up the dining room table with extra spots for the inevitable extra people, and decorate with fall leaves and pumpkins.
Then, we eat.
The boys (Dad and 13-year-old twins Sean and Chris) do the dishes.
Left: Some of the boys: Dad and Mikhael, my "godbrother."



