Giblets and Sugar Cubes

510q6lxovwl-_sx356_bo1204203200_As I read Cranberry Thanksgiving by Wende and Harry Devlin [review] I was reminded of a year when my family had a houseful of guests for Thanksgiving.  My cousins and I still talk and laugh about that gravy! It was also the year that my dear momma gave me some freedom in the kitchen to make a recipe feel pretty special to me.  As you read, I hope that you will remember some interesting times your family has shared during Thanksgiving, and be inspired to write your own . . .

Mary Byrne Kline
aka “Button”

Heritage 2 Legacy

a Chasing Fireflies’ storytelling project

Giblets and Sugar Cubes


With my little apron tied around me, I climbed up on the kitchen chair and began to measure flour in the large crock bowl.  Helping momma bake was one of my favorite things to do and I never tired of trying new recipes with her.

The year I was 9 at Thanksgiving, our Aunt, Uncle, and cousins were coming from Illinois so we had a  lot of baking to do.  This was the first year that momma was letting me  make a pumpkin pie all by myself – start to finish.  After pouring it into my crust, I used a turkey cookie cutter and with a little extra pie crust placed a little turkey in the center of my pie.


Momma’s & my childhood apron…

Thanksgiving Day our home was filled with laughter, love, and a great amount of food.  As we began eating, we kids noticed something rather unusual. My mom’s gravy had strange lumps in it. We didn’t know what they were. Our parents explained what “giblets” were and we couldn’t pick them out of our gravy fast enough! It was pretty comical to see seven kids reaching for the fancy little sugar cubes Mom had placed on the table for coffee. Anything to get the “giblet” taste out of our mouths! Had it not been Thanksgiving Day we might have all been in trouble.  I remember being so proud when everyone “gobbled” down my turkey pumpkin pie.

This year I’ll again be making many pies, and yes, my pumpkin pie will have a turkey on top.  But I will not put giblets in my gravy.

Love, Button



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