The Tin Foil Story: A Guest Blog

When I called my Mom on Black Friday to wish her a belated Happy Thanksgiving, she had a colored rendition of "How Your Father Almost Set the Kitchen on Fire by Really Trying," which will be more commonly known as The Tin Foil Story. I asked Mom to capture the essence of this precious holiday moment, as only Mom can. Believe me, there are many more stories untold.

Mom writes:

So glad that you and your big, loving southern family had a fun Thanksgiving. I know you were the center of attention. We also enjoyed our smaller celebration. I prepared three holiday casseroles to take to Mamaw's house. I prepared them by removing them from their store-bought packages and placed them in foil pans - just to look more festive.

BY THE WAY, foil pans are only user friendly if you place them in ovens not microwaves. (Jaybird's aside: The foil pans were placed in the microwave at the insistence of my Dad. The oven at Mamaw's is not the most reliable and the dishes had already been lingering in a state of lukewarmness for a half hour. 'Nuking' them in the microwave is heartily endorsed by both mother and son, to the opposition of my mom. After 34 years, though, Mom doesn't put up much of a fight. Logic does not matter in affairs of your mother-in-law's kitchen. I do have to say that said microwave must be something of an anomaly, because it has a rack inside for double decker nuking, and the rack is metal!)

Back to our meal. We had a juicy turkey breast and dressing. We were making some gravy and somehow a pan with cooking oil overheated and we experienced a small smoke fire which was contained well by opening a few windows to get fresh air. Hey, the smoke alarm didn't even go off.

Well, it does work. In fact, when we heated the foil pans in the microwave and then placed the pans on the family table - what can I say - the first pan flamed up on contact with a kitchen cloth and there were flames everywhere. That alarm just went off in record time and the charred remains of the cloth were quickly dispatched to the kitchen garbage can before Mamaw was any the wiser.

In fact, the food was not harmed at all. The rest of the meal was a lot of fun with the retelling of old family stories and it was fortuitous that Mamaw didn't witness our flameout. All was well in Jackson: the town that time forgot. Where the men are handsome, the women are a piece of work and the children are bright as a new penny.

P.S. - You know me; I was the lone dissenting vote is the use of microwaving foil. But then, it's always something.

Thanks, Mom for sharing this heartfelt Thanksgiving message. Readers, this only scratches the surface of such stories. :)

'Tis the season!