More Than Just A Meal

Getting through Thanksgiving with a full stomach is definitely better than hearing an "I told you so" from your uncle. Sure, the holidays come with their share of uninvited drama, but with all the gluten-free baggage I already carry, my focus is on the food.

First things first— let’s establish my Thanksgiving food groups: cheese, meat, and potato. Under these three categories, I can build a plate that satisfies and excites. Cheese? Charcuterie board & mac 'n cheese. Meat? Beef tenderloin & baked salami. Not a turkey gal, so moving on. Potato? Mashed, smashed, roasted sweet potato, and this year’s new addition— Japanese sweet potato mash.

As a foodie with a love for unconventional flavors, my Thanksgiving cannot be complete without the aged Gouda, piquant peppers stuffed with Vermont goat cheese, fall salad & maple vinaigrette, and a hefty scoop of garlicky mashed potatoes.

You might be asking, "What about the stuffing? The cranberry sauce? The turkey?" And to that, I say, "Oh, you mean the basic dishes?" I didn’t grow up in a house of convention, and believe me, that doesn’t stop my mom from getting creative for Thanksgiving. The beef tenderloin, for example, was adopted after years of my turkey-hating dad's complaints, and now, it's a seven-year tradition. It’s even got a chive horseradish sidekick.

My mom is known for knocking every meal out of the park. Whether it’s Thanksgiving, Mother’s Day brunch, or a Thursday night dinner, she's a cooking connoisseur, and she knows her audience well. While she’s never messed up a meal, cooking several dishes at once— especially with a third of them being gluten-free now— is a whole new challenge.

Staple Thanksgiving dishes, like mac 'n cheese, when made gluten-free require extra tenderness, love, and care. I’m not the biggest fan of stuffing or cornbread, so while they’re usually there in their GF glory, I tend to fill my plate with more meat and cheese instead. That’s where my focus lies— on the dishes that really matter.

So, imagine my shock when, yesterday, I came home from the gym and walked into the kitchen to find gluten-free noodles cooking on HIGH with no salt in the water. To say I gasped is an understatement. I know, I know— it might seem dramatic to get worked up over noodles, but when it comes to mac 'n cheese, we both know it has to taste right.

While I performed a little culinary surgery on the neglected noodles— TBSP of salt, low heat, and constant stirring— I gently explained to my mom that, just like her tenderloin, gluten-free noodles need careful attention. She was busy with the turkey and the salad dressing, and, as she does with regular pasta, she was giving the noodles a little too much freedom.

But gluten-free noodles? They need a bit more hand-holding to avoid a disaster.

Nonetheless, in my humble opinion, Thanksgiving food is good, but it’s not great— at least not on its own. The holiday itself, though, is the perfect way to kick off the season, a celebration of fall in its purest form. And that’s reflected most clearly in the food: the sensory overload of rosemary, thyme, and garlic, the comfort of every dish. But it’s no surprise that it’s widely enjoyed- each year your plate is decorated with comfort foods.

But is the food really the main event? Not exactly. It’s the intention behind each dish that makes it truly special.

And that’s where a Frey Thanksgiving stands apart. The key to a memorable holiday meal isn’t just the taste, but the care and thoughtfulness put into every bite. My mom dances through the kitchen with ease. While she may not know it- cooking for others is what I assume to be her love language.

I’d say about a quarter of the table actually enjoys turkey, and if one person wants it, a whole turkey she’ll make. So while a beef tenderloin at Thanksgiving might seem unconventional, she’s turned it into a tradition with her expert touch. Whether it’s reading the room, reading a dish, or just knowing the perfect butter proportions to make my dad smile, my mom brings a level of care and intuition that makes everything she makes special.

A Thanksgiving meal at my house becomes that rare moment when every flavor, every bite, and every detail feels like an invitation to pause. My cousin Brad pointed out that this year our meal has a bit more "baggage" with gluten-free, paleo, and vegetarian adjustments.

But honestly, it’s all part of the experience. Each change reflects how we’ve come together to make room for everyone at the table. And while my mom isn’t ready to pass the torch just yet, these dietary needs are gently nudging us toward the future. Slowly but surely, she’s welcoming more people into the kitchen.

Sure, dietary restrictions weren’t always an obstacle, but now they’re part of the rhythm of our family gatherings— like a new tradition we never knew we needed. It’s not just about making sure everyone can eat, but about making everyone feel like they’re a part of the experience. And that’s where the magic lies.

Oh, and a glass or two, or three of Chianti Classico! Cheers.