it's all gravy.

We were having a gravy race.

I love homemade gravy. It's delicious science, is what it is. You have some liquid, you add some thickening agent and flavor, stir awhile and there's your gravy. Why does it thicken? I don't know, that's the science part. You don't need a silly little store-bought packet. You do need patience.

I am not patient with gravy. The recipes always make it sound like a quick step. "Add the broth and then stir until thickened." I mean, that doesn't sound like very long, does it? And because I apparently have no accumulated memory, I don't remember the last time I thought making gravy wouldn't take very long and so I wonder why this time is taking so for-EV-er. I think about adding more flour or cornstarch, but I apparently do have some accumulated memory, because I remember doing that before, and it didn't turn out well. So I just keep stirring. And complaining.

We were making meatballs for Thanksgiving, 95 of them to be exact. We had rolled them out and placed them into neat little rows, like tiny rotund Swedish soldiers, ready for a battle with hunger. But my pans would only hold about thirty meatballs at a time, and so we had to cook them and their gravy in shifts. After the meatballs had been browned, it was time to make gravy. Each of us had added all the ingredients and were deep in the stirring stage. It was just a matter of whose gravy would thicken first.

You've probably never had a gravy race before. I'm not sure if ours was typical (or perhaps it was the first ever?), but there seemed to be a lot of trash talk.

"You call that gravy? That runny stuff wouldn't even clog an artery."

"It's thicker than that brown dish water you've got going over there."

"Your mama."

There was also a lot of kissing, which might seem like it didn't go with the trash talk, but we made it work.

I thought of an interpersonal psychology class I had taken a couple of years ago at a community college. We were talking about examples of quality time, ways to spend time with someone else that would allow you to bond. I suggested making dinner together. One woman thought I was crazy, as if I had just suggested a nice romantic walk across hot coals. I should look her up and suggest that she and her husband have a gravy race.