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Yams are definitely my favorite part of Thanksgiving. I don't do anything for Thanksgiving these days, and the only thing my family did for it growing up was prepare a lot of food, but Thanksgiving and Christmas were the only times of the year in which we had yams.

My mother couldn't cook to save her life, but she made some damn good yams. I remember for a good portion of my childhood, I avoided them because my older sister said they were disgusting, and they looked kind of weird so I just trusted that they didn't taste good and my brother similarly decided not to eat them. My mother and father were the only ones that would, so my father always got a small can of them.

One Thanksgiving, I actually watched my mum making the yams. I don't remember all the spices she used, but I do know cinnamon, cloves, and brown sugar were involved. She also topped off the whole thing with marshmallows {something I unfortunately can't eat anymore stare ... unless I go out of my way to find vegetarian ones}. Knowing all those things were tasty, I couldn't wrap my mind around how yams could possibly be as gross as my sister said they were, so that year I decided to give them a shot and they were awesome. My brother, figuring that I didn't like anything, figured that if -I- liked the yams, that must mean they were good. After that, my father had to start buying a large can.

Also, at some point in life, I became in charge of making the pumpkin pies. I have no idea how that happened, but I didn't really complain. Some time in my late teens/early 20s, I started experimenting with different recipes because we had always just followed the recipe on the label of the canned pumpkin and I wanted to try some different things. This made my father uneasy because he liked the pumpkin pie the way it was and didn't want me screwing up that part. So, for one Thanksgiving, he decided to take on the job of making the pies instead of me. I told him I never add the salt, but he did anyway... and then forgot to add the sugar. Worst pie ever... even worse than the watery one I made when experimenting {which, by the way, turned out that way because my brother had bought a can of "pumpkin pie mix" instead of just pumpkin stare }.

I later found a recipe that didn't involve eggs and it turns out pretty firm... which has now become a joke amongst a few geezers....

Scalloped Potatoes. Heavy on the Chedder. My grandmother makes them less frequently than she used too, but always at Thanksgiving and Christmas, and they are to die for.

No, really.

Many a year has the last scoop of this delectable dish nearly instigated physical violence amongst me and my brothers. Thankfully, Grandma realized this as we started getting bigger, and thus started doubling her recipie sizes. blaugh

Other than that, Thanksgiving is the time of year that I give thanks that I only have to spend a few days out of the year with all the crazies that I get to call family.