Every year.
Every year we visit family, rather than host Thanksgiving dinner. I don't eat turkey, so I understand that people probably think it's silly to have me take charge of cooking one. Plus, the family on both sides who take the hosting role have been doing it for enough years that it would feel like a dramatic change.
So every year we bounce from one family to the other (dinner at one, appetizers or dessert at the other), I have to bring my contributions with me.
Because of course I have to bring a contribution. I would never show up empty handed, and I'm sure it would cause some raised eyebrows if I decided to do it. And I don't want to show up with a supermarket veggie tray or a bag of chips or cheese and crackers or a bottle of wine. Yes, that would be easier. But, to me, that implies that I'm not capable of anything beyond using a credit card.
It needs to be noted that this is entirely me. No one has ever said I should only bring things I can purchase. I'm sure both homes we went to would love if I took care of those things.
So when I'm charged with bringing the appetizers, as I was this year, I start trolling Pinterest and making shopping lists that include things like brie and goat cheese and fig jam and prosciutto and pomegranate seeds. I don't know exactly how much I spent at the grocery store buying appetizer ingredients for two locations, but I know it was much more than a turkey, stuffing and potatoes. And definitely more than a veggie tray.
Then, on Thanksgiving morning, I had all the stress of trying to put make and put together two beautiful platters that showed off my amazing culinary skills and creativity and figure out how to cover them and transport them in my new car that I did NOT want to smell like brie for the next year.
And then, while, yes, they did get eaten and complimented, people also spent plenty of times eating the chips and veggies and cheese and crackers that the hostesses provided (because I was bringing HOMEMADE apps of course), and I had well over half left over.
So, explain to me again, WHY do it to myself every year?
In a word, tradition.
No, it doesn't make sense, but tradition is tradition. Can't fight it!