Touchdown for tradition

Winning holiday recipe blends three key ingredients: family, food and football

Winning holiday recipe blends three key ingredients: family, food and football

Story and photo by Angela Beairsto

“Hut one, hut two, hut three!” At our house, Thanksgiving, family and football go together like mashed potatoes and gravy. As with any big game, there is a great deal of preparation that happens before the big day, as well as a frenzy of activity along the sidelines during the game itself.
Years ago, when our growing family lived in Cincinnati, Ohio, we would feast at the school’s pilgrim and Indian celebration, then pile into the car to join the migration of hundreds of other frazzled families traveling crowded highways, all on a mission to be home for Thanksgiving. The trip South—six hours-plus with a carload of infants and toddlers and frequent stops for potty breaks, diaper changes, bottle feedings or snacks—was actually the calm before the storm.
Having both of sets of in-laws in Chattanooga meant cautiously dividing our time between the two. No matter what, one side always felt slighted. Trying to enjoy two Thanksgiving dinners was like trying to play star quarterback for two Super Bowl games on the same day. The first dinner hosts worried we were saving our energy—and appetites—for the second event. The second dinner hosts felt we had expended all of our energy in the first one. No matter how hard we tried, none of our fans were happy, and we, the players, were exhausted, way above playing weight, and tired of playing the game.
Fortunately, many years ago one of my husband’s siblings proposed a new and unanimously welcomed game plan. The new strategy meant that only one game was allowed on Thanksgiving Day, and that all players had to commit to game day and dinner with my husband’s family. (My family understood our decision, as we had dedicated to play an annual off-season game, the traditional Burns summer beach trip, with them.) The other major change involved breaking long-standing protocol and making Thanksgiving an away game for everyone. This eased chores for the stadium crew and added some excitement to the event. Thus, the Beairsto Thanksgiving Day tradition was born.
Now trains, planes and automobiles transport players and their families to our new locale for the pre-game activities. We come from Ohio, New York, New Jersey, Florida and Missouri. Our new playing field is just north of Chattanooga, a rustic fishing resort called The Brigadoon, on Watts Bar Lake. It isn’t fancy, but from the beginning our team felt relaxed and at home there, especially since we were almost always the resort’s only holiday visitors. The lodge has enough small bedrooms for the adults, and the young cousins sleep in sleeping bags in front of the fire that’s kept constantly burning in the huge common room.
Pre-game activities include long, exploratory hikes in the woods, boating on the lake, fishing from the dock, playing cards and, of course, a pre-game warm-up or two for family football. Banned from camp are television, cell phones and iPods. Long forgotten are spilled drinks and sore legs from long hours in the car, canceled flights and cramped airline seats next to screaming infants, and the requisite pre-trip short tempers and arguments.
The most important pre-game activity is preparation of the food for “the big game.” The coaches always field the kickoff, the game-day turkey. The rest of the players and families carry out minor plays, though all integral to the event’s final outcome. Though the stadium has changed, the standard game plan is the same; very few substitutions are made to food traditions, especially those that always score touchdowns. My family has always been responsible for the garlic mashed potatoes (continually doctored by fans as they pass by the stove-top pot), sweet potatoes and pre-game appetizers. Uncle Greg and family bring the broccoli casserole and cranberry crunch (missed dreadfully one year after a fumbled handoff to Uncle Scott). Aunt Beth, who often travels on game day, gladly provides the cranberries, rolls, and the kids’ favorite, Aunt Beth’s Corn. Thanksgiving isn’t Thanksgiving without pies, and Uncle Scott (really Aunt Paige) and Grandma are responsible for those favorite point-after plays. Uncle Doug’s gang, with the longest flight and youngest children, supplies the wine and beer, which indeed adds some team spirit and camaraderie to game day, as well as making the referee’s job easier!
While the adults have responsibility for the major plays, the children know their assignments. They are the groundskeepers and the scouts, taking a trip around the lake to gather driftwood, leaves, acorns and pine cones—perfect centerpieces for game-day festivities.
A more relaxed playing field and new rule book also have allowed for a change in uniforms. Gone are the starched khaki pants, scratchy shirts and tight ties for the men, and confining skirts, annoying hose and uncomfortable shoes for the women. Instead, we enter the game in jeans, sweatshirts and hiking shoes.
We’ve also traded in our traditional fancy china, crystal goblets, lace tablecloths and linen napkins, for the hodgepodge of dishes and glasses that found in the lodge’s cabinets. We sit at folding card tables and picnic tables dragged in from outdoors, draped in festive pilgrim-, Indian- and turkey-adorned disposable tablecloths. (The paper “Happy Thanksgiving” napkins alone would have Martha Stewart throwing penalty flags!)
Though anxious to get the action underway, we all bow our heads as one of the younger children relishes the privilege of saying grace. After the boisterous Amen, we begin the game we’ve been awaiting all year. There’s never a rush to get through all of the plays, because no one has to leave to get to another game.
During halftime, anticipation builds for our favorite “post-game” activity, a real game of family football in the little grassy area just outside the cabin. As we eat, we reminisce about other game days: the time a stray dog became a substitute player; the “accidental” falls off the dock; the year Grandpa hit his head and had to be carted off the field; and the game day that has become legendary—when Uncle Greg robbed my son Patrick of a touchdown and tackled him into a shed, leaving him in the end zone with a broken arm. (That’s my version of the story, and I’m sticking with it!) We discuss plans for this year’s game, as our scattered players have again come together as a team.
The two-minute drill, the clean-up, goes quickly; all team members, young and old, play a part. Outside, teams are chosen—each one a mixture of children, teens and adults—and the game commences with Grandpa serving as referee, Grandma as cheering squad and trainer, and myself as camera crew. What begins as a friendly game to work off the Thanksgiving gorging quickly turns competitive, leaving the children laughing and the adults sore from using muscles that had lain dormant all year long.
The family football jamboree is always followed by a lakeshore bonfire to bring all of the players back to one team. Grandpa leads campfire songs, while the kids toast marshmallows and sip hot chocolate. Then comes the closing ceremony, the Beairsto blessings and gratitudes. We all stand in a circle, sometimes holding hands or candles, gazing into the fire, surrounded by the warmth of family. Each family member then takes a turn giving thanks: thanks for good health, thanks for safe travels, thanks for NFL football, thanks for good friends, thanks for the bounty of food, even thanks for siblings. And, always, thanks for the traditional Beairsto Thanksgiving Game and for each and every team member.
Many game days have come and gone, and the location has had to change a couple of times, but our family truly scored when we dedicated ourselves to this once-a-year game. The blessings of family have been a much sweeter prize than any Super Bowl trophy.