It’s a turkey salad sandwich, which isn’t unusual for the weekend after Thanksgiving. It’s pretty unassuming, actually – homemade turkey salad on whole wheat. Peter whipped this up, and when he asked about pickles, I said, “Just dice up some bread & butter pickles; that’s what Grandma did when she’d make it.” I remember standing beside her in her kitchen, cutting board resting on her blue-and-white tile counter, watching her dicing those pickles by hand, ones she’d put up herself.
Peter brought the bowl into me and gave me a taste. I held the bite of turkey salad in my mouth, parsing out the different flavors – savory turkey, the bite of mustard, the sweet-sour pickles. In a moment I was back in my grandma’s kitchen. She was alive and well and making her turkey salad with leftover turkey and home-canned pickles. Tears welled up in my eyes, one escaping down my cheek. I smiled and said, “It’s perfect” as I wiped the tears away.
The sandwich was perfect, the most fabulous turkey sandwich I’ve had in over 30 years.
To most people, it’s just a mixture of turkey, pickles, mayo, and mustard, something anyone could throw together. There’s one ingredient that’s absolutely essential to the perfect turkey salad sandwich, and that is love.
I love this post so much. Thank you for sharing. In her later years, my grandma used to burn all of her holiday cookies. She still gave them to us all and we treasured them. I think of her whenever I burn my cookies. 🙂
Very nice post, I think we can all relate. It is great that you have such fond memories. Thanks for sharing.