Don't Spare the Gravy

I always thought my father had a unique obsession with gravy. He'd dump it on his mashed potatoes, sure, but also on toast, bread, stuffing, and just about anything and everything on his plate. We had potatoes at most of the meals - we grew them and kept them in a big, open bin in the old cellar, so naturally we always had a bowl of gravy sitting in the fridge. Dad would have been quite upset if there was no gravy at the dinner table.

Several years later, when my two older sons were going to Catholic school, my wife and I helped out at the Thanksgiving dinner the school has every year. Our town is comprised of a great number of Italian descendants, many of the older folks coming straight from the old country when they were younger. When these older people, especially the men, started coming through the cafeteria line during the Thanksgiving dinner where it was my job to put gravy on the mashed potatoes as they slid their tray along, I discovered that my dad wasn't alone with his love of gravy. I'd pour some on their potatoes and wait for them to move along. "Gravy on everything" they'd say. So I put some on their stuffing and turkey and wait for them to move along. They'd look at me, narrow their eyes and repeat "Everything". The only thing left on their plate not covered was the green salad that came with every meal, so I would douse that and they'd move along with a pleased look on their faces. I half expected them to bring their desserts back for a dollop, but no one did.

I guess it might be an old man thing, the gravy obsession, or maybe an Italian thing. Either way, I've been finding myself going overboard with the brown goodness at the holidays lately. Also when I order biscuits for breakfast. And sometimes I put some on toast...burgers... rice... ice cream.... sometimes I'll just heat up a bowl and have it all by itself. But I'm not odd like those other guys.