I once ate Thanksgiving dinner at a diner in New Jersey.
It is my weirdest Thanksgiving memory ever. Because, really, Thanksgiving feasts in a DINER? In JERSEY? Can you imagine? (I’m very picky about my Thanksgiving meal. Turkey-shmurky. Stuffing is my what I live for each year. If the stuffing stinks then I am grouchy. For days.)
This particular holiday debacle came as a result of trying very hard not to create extra work for my mother-in-law. It was our turn to visit them in New Jersey and we were going to be the only ones at the table. We knew that if we didn’t find an alternative, my poor mother-in-law would end up not only making dinner for us but also other relatives that she would (no doubt) end up inviting over. We just couldn’t make her do the whole thing herself.
So somehow the diner seemed like a decent option.
Have you ever watched Jersey Shore? Well, imagine then being surrounded by many a Jersey Shore character that evening, except for the fact that they were clad in copious amounts of black and gold. Surprisingly, the place was packed to the gills with customers thus creating a two hour wait for our pseudo-feast to be delivered to the table. Did I mention the fact that my boys were five and three at the time?
What a night.
We still joke about it with my husband’s family to this day.
If you have a sec, go check out my new column at Want2Dish.com – Tweet Nothings: I Am A Thanksgiving Outcast.