Every year at Thanksgiving, I head to the grocery store for oysters and chicken livers. This isn't a combo I'd normally put in my cart, but it's necessary to assemble my Granny's oyster dressing.
Don't get me wrong. I must have cornbread dressing, turkey, a roll and cranberry sauce once a year or I sink into a deep depression. But I also must have oyster dressing. It must be that bit of Cajun in me.
I'm the first to admit that oyster dressing isn't for everyone. It has a strong taste, but I love it. I tote it to every Thanksgiving gathering and brace myself for no one but me spooning a portion onto a plate. My mother only makes it when I come home for the holidays, because we're the only two in the family who eat it. What is everyone's problem? We need more converts!
I don't actually recall my grandmother ever making this dressing. What I recall is my mother making it because it was her mother's recipe. Regardless of whose recipe it is, it's become my holiday tradition.
Rice is also an integral part of the recipe. Here's a fun fact about me: I make terrible rice. My rice is always mushy. Even a rice cooker doesn't seem to help matters. Don't you want to sample my rice dressing?
This year, I thought about skipping the oyster dressing. I got sick - as I've mentioned a million times - and I thought about skipping Thanksgiving entirely. That thought depressed me, especially since I was supposed to spend Thanksgiving with my grandparents. Who knows how many more Thanksgivings we'll have together? 20? 30? (Thanks, Sophia).
So I dragged myself to the grocery store the day before Thanksgiving. The parking lot looked like Walmart as the clock ticks down to Black Friday. Insanity. After crying a little about the price of oysters and having a long thought in the produce section about where Granny procured her oysters, I went in search of chicken livers and came up empty.
Finally - after scouring the meat section for the 10th time and directing the umpteenth person to the turkeys (they were hiding) - I asked the butcher, who sent me to the freezer section. There, amongst the Eggos and the Cool Whip, I found the secret room of the grocery store where they hide the weird animal parts. Included in there were my chicken livers.
Finally, back home, I assembled my mushy rice, oysters, chicken livers, etc. and threw them into the fridge for the next day. Mr. G. came into the kitchen and immediately fled to the living room. He hates my oyster dressing.
At Thanksgiving, I set my dressing next to a similar looking dressing. See! It's not just me. Other people make rice dressing. Then I sat near the table and directed everyone to my dressing. Just kidding!
As always, there was plenty of leftover oyster dressing to take home. No worries. More for me!
Then Mr. G. surprised me.
Mr. G.: "Hey, make sure to get some of that dressing to take home."
Me: "You mean my oyster dressing?"
Mr. G.: "Uh, no. That other dressing. That was really good. It had hamburger meat in it like rice dressing is supposed to be made."
Sigh.
