A Brigadoon Thanksgiving

My dear friend Shawna loved Thanksgiving. She was a beautiful, elegant cook and baker and loved to set a beautiful table. We often celebrated Thanksgiving together, (along with the second Seder and the second night of Rosh HaShanah). Shawna put thought and care into everything that she did and understood the power of flavor to evoke memory AND also push the eater to experience something new.

After Shawna died it seemed imperative that we continue to do Thanksgiving together with her husband and his family. So we do.

Our preparation begins with a trip to Monsey, to Bingo to buy the holy brisket. Is brisket not traditional on your Thanksgiving table? The core of Shawna's Thanksgiving meal was both turkey and brisket.

After every trip to Bingo I share images of some products that catch my eye or amuse me.

Charley, Shawna's husband pointed out this keyboard. He didn't know that Uncle Moishy is the frum version of Al Yankovic. Uncle Moishy has had a long career of concert performances and has hosted radio shows over the past few decades. It's a very niche market but in that market he is a STAR.

This musical book is filled with Chanukah songs in Yiddish.

As always, I checked out what was new and wonderful in the land of Menchies. I found this birthday set.

Below are two gender specific alarm clocks.

My favorite product was this toy Shtreimel, complete in hatbox.

I did open one of the hat boxes and the shtreimels are made of fake fur. The Gitty dolls that share the shelf are the religious answer to American Girl dolls.

Once the shopping was done it was time for lunch. We went down the road to Kosher Kastle which describes itself as , "The finest kosher eatery in Monsey".

I have eaten only in one other kosher eatery in Monsey and I can tell you that Kosher Kastle isn't exactly the finest koshery eatery in Monsey, and we hadn't even eaten in that fancy a place. Despite the sad 1980s fast food chain look of the place the food at Kosher Kastle wasn't bad. My husband and a burger and Charley and I each ate an excellent Shawarma sandwich.I would definitely eat there again.

Charley and I divide up the cooking tasks. On my list is the brisket, the gravy ( because Shawna felt that no meat could properly served without gravy, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie and pecan pie and a potato side dish.-- and of course a batch of whities (meringues) for Charlie for him to share or keep for himself. Charley also asked me to make a challah because he wanted it. The challah is now on rise #2.

I miss Shawna so much. There have been so many times over these past more than two years that I have badly needed her advice or just wanted to hear her take on something. Since Sunday, as I have been cooking I keep hearing Shawna's voice in my head. I have loved having her voice in my head.

I made the gravy as I thought she would have liked it, taking the extra pesky steps to be sure that it was lush and velvety.

The pies are less artful than Shawna would have made them. However I did make a hot water crust for the first time, something i strongly suggest that you do.

I also made the pecan pie the old fashioned way, without Karo syrup and by making a custard instead. It is time consuming, but I think worth it

I know that Charley is having similar conversations in his head as he does his part in the preparations. Tomorrow Charley's family and mine will sit together at one long table overlooking the Hudson and the setting sky elegantly set by Charley's mother and bring Shawna's spirit down to us for one delicious afternoon a year.

מְחַיֵּה הַמֵּתִים

וְנֶאֱמָן אַתָּה לְהַחֲיוֹת מֵתִים: בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהֹוָה מְחַיֵּה הַמֵּתִים You are faithful to restore the dead to life. Blessed are You, Adonoy, Resurrector of the dead. That particular line is recited at every single prayer service every day three times a day, unless you use a Reform or Reconstructionist prayer book . In those liturgies instead of praising God for resurrecting the dead God is praised for giving life to all. I am enough of a modern woman, a modern thinker, to not actually believe in the actual resurrection of the dead. I don't actually expect all of the residents of the Workmen's Circle section of Mount Hebron cemetery in Queens to get up and get back to work at their sewing machines. I don't expect the young children buried here or the babies buried here to one day get up and frolic. Yet, every single time I get up to lead services I say those words about the reanimating of the dead with every fiber of my being. Yesterday, I e...

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