Our thirty sixth president, Lyndon B. Johnson and his family are
coming to my house for dinner and I have forgotten to defrost the twenty pound
turkey. A recurring dream.
My married life continues to involve issues with food preparation,
so to have such a haunting dream is not beyond the realm of possibilities. Ben
was a fussy eater. I was always phoning his sister Frieda or my mother-in-law
to ask what and how to make the brisket, potato kugel or matzah brie. My mother
was a terrible cook. She could bake marvelous strudel and pies but her everyday
dinners were pathetic. She really only cared about feeding my tyrannical
father, so every night she served him the same dinner meal of gedempte
fleysch (potted or stewed meat) with potatoes, sour pickles from Joe’s
and a glass of seltzer. Yes, I do remember being served peas and carrots from a
can and the Monday night ritual meal of mashed spinach and potatoes. So, I did
not bring great culinary skills to wedlock, Settlement Cookbook was a help but
mostly it was Frieda or my mother-in-law to advise me.
As a young couple, dinner parties were the style of our social
life. We had a lovely and interesting set of couple friends and we all took
turns with dinner invitations. These dinner parties became more and more elaborate.
It reached a point where it was a competition to outdo the last invite.
Suddenly I was setting a table with my hand embroidered tablecloth, matching
napkins, sterling candlesticks, Rosenthal gold rimmed dishes, Waterford crystal
stemware, and sterling silver flatware. Two burning candles added to the
splendor. But what to cook for the dinner party? Irene had made her dinner with
an all Chinese food theme (home cooked, not ordered in). Martha chose an all
Italian theme and served scrumptious chicken parmesan. Jacky did the veal
francaise with a rice pilaf side dish. Janice beat me to the cheese blintze
casserole. What would I serve? Food preparation for my husband. Food
preparation for my friends. Food preparation became my wide-awake nightmare.
I don’t need a psychotherapist to interpret my recurring
nightmares. President Lyndon B. Johnson and family are coming to my
Thanksgiving dinner and I have forgotten to defrost the twenty pound turkey. I
wake up in a panic!!!
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