Lessons from my first Thanksgiving dinner

Traditions are great and it's always nice to do things we are good at, but sometimes trying new things can be even more rewarding.

I took it upon myself to host my first Thanksgiving dinner. I am not known for my domesticity or my cooking. However, generations of women in my family before me chose a love of cooking over a college degree, so it is definitely in my blood.

My parents used to own a restaurant at which my mom was the one and only cook. My grandma could out-bake anyone I've ever met and her dinners were just as delicious. I know this because my older brother and I spent a great deal of our younger years at her house, and we have the chubby school pictures to prove it.

I am not the type to fill a boring afternoon with baking cookies or to even make my lunch for work, ever, but I definitely have the gene in me.

I've won a few cooking contests in my day and when I do plant myself in the kitchen I get rave reviews.

But it's just not my bag. I simply don't find it enjoyable to sit in the kitchen when I could be doing so many other things. I just don't have the patience for it.

Perhaps that's what made me want to host this year's Thanksgiving dinner. It was a challenge and I knew that I wasn't expected to do great things.

My older brother, Spencer, who lives in Polson, is the sibling that enjoys cooking, but the chances of him inviting the family over are about as good as me getting my own cooking show.

Since the rest of my family is in Seattle, I figured I might as well invite some of them over and see what happens. I figured after all the drama I've seen go down on the holidays, I really couldn't do much worse.

I spent the days leading up to the big event cleaning up the house, as did my roommate Charlie Ball.

Then the night before my dad and little brother were to arrive, I went and did the big grocery shopping trip.

I went blindly without a list and just walked down every aisle with my best friend in tow collecting all of the items I would need to prepare the feast.

It took us about two hours and hundreds of dollars to get it all, but in the end we had forgotten just one thing – turkey bags – which I picked up the next day.

My family arrived Wednesday evening as planned and I went to bed thinking that all would be well.

I'd informed my dad that he'd be in charge of the turkey, after all he'd prepared our bird and stuffing the previous year since my mom had to abandon the task to pick me up at the airport.

Everything was under control this year though. At least that's what I thought until I woke up Thanksgiving morning to a text message from Charlie informing me that she saw my dad and he was sick with the stomach flu. I laid in bed for awhile longer mulling over the news.

I finally got up and faced the music after about a half hour. I decided that this just upped the ante on the challenge I had undertaken.

So what if I had never cooked a turkey or really any sort of poultry in my life?

In fact, I don't think I had ever cooked any sort of meat with too much success. I'm more of a fish and seafood girl.

But I was going to find a way to make this turkey delicious and save Thanksgiving from being a frozen pizza pig-out.

However, when I cut the bag off of the turkey and began handling the raw meat, I realized that these type of things do not start out anywhere near delicious.

I just kept reminding myself that if I could dissect a squid in science class, I could prepare a turkey.

By the time I'd wrestled the 19 pounder into the oven, with the help of Charlie, I had a new appreciation for homemakers everywhere.

From there everything went pretty well. Except for the fact that the TV in the kitchen didn't get the football games in, and I suddenly started longing to sit in the living room and return to my usual Thanksgiving role of watching football and eating.

But there was no time for that this year.

My little brother, Keegan, who is 16, had finally woken up midway through my turkey debacle and I assigned him to a few minor tasks. Spencer and his girlfriend showed up a couple of hours later and helped out with the other side dishes after I delegated them to do so.

Meanwhile, I made two pies as well as a couple of other dishes while overseeing the rest of the dinner.

About an hour before the turkey came out, Keegan looked at me and said, "I can't believe you cooked the turkey, Jordan. That's pretty bad ass."

I stopped being cool to Keegan when he became a teenager, so anytime I can impress him is pretty incredible for me.

Also, I was particularly happy that he was having a good Thanksgiving despite being away from home and our mom.

I was pretty glad too that he was so amazed by my cooking, which is something I swear I am not known for.

If you don't believe me, maybe you'll take my older brother's word for it.

After all, who is better at humbling us than our older siblings.

As he was carving the turkey, Spencer turned to me and said, "I have to say, sis, I'm pretty impressed. I was kind of nervous when you said you were going to host Thanksgiving and then when dad got sick, I really wasn't sure how it would turn out. But you did an awesome job."

Among my siblings, I am known as the planner, the over-extender and the social one.

But to be thought of as excelling in something outside of my comfort zone was especially gratifying.

My family has always had the type of holidays that movies are made of, except less funny. I grew up with the understanding that the holidays, and especially hosting family events, are automatically surrounded by stress.

Like so many people's families, our gatherings have always been filled with panicking, bickering between guests and forced happiness among one another.

However, this year was different and it brought me a great sense of pride, and perhaps changed the way I will view the holidays for the rest of my life.

Spencer informed me that it may have all gone a little too well, though. He said, "I think you may have done such a good job that you cooked yourself right into hosting Thanksgiving every year."

To be honest, if they all went this smoothly, I wouldn't mind.