Casserole Countdown

When I was growing up, I distinctly remember being taught over and over (and over some more) the following bit of conversational/interpersonal skill savvy: 

I'm one of those strange people who generally tries to adhere to that. Despite the modern obsession of seemingly everyone with a social media account finding their voice and sharing everything from pictures of what doctors removed from their body (posted by a friend last week) to the obvious what-I-had-for-lunch snapshots (ok, so even I do that from time to time), I have not been compelled to voice much in the way of politics, religion or money. Given my trust issues (coinciding with being judged issues), there are about a handful of people I'd discuss my views with in the world anyway. And if we've ever talked politics in person or via messaging, congratulations - you're one of the poor bastards "lucky" few I feel comfortable enough to discuss such things with. 

And here's the sum total of my feelings about everything going on:

I don't care what the affiliation is. I see hate and propaganda and fear mongering spewing forth from every direction. And I'm just so damn tired. 

But that most epic of comfort food feasting days is almost upon us:

Carbs, carbs, tryptophan, more carbs. And then the pinnacle of them all, pie.

For so many, the holidays involve tense discussions with family or straight up bellowing monologues from whoever is the most belligerent on politics, religion and every poor life choice you might have ever dared to make.

It's also a time of unprecedented casseroles. Potato ones. Vegetable ones. The big boy of them all, or so says the canned soup industry, is the green bean casserole. This was not part of any of my holidays growing up. Like, at all. 17 different kinds of potato dishes, 400 pies, enough stuffing to make a whole farm of turkeys panic, but no green bean casserole. No canisters of fried onions. Our cream of mushroom soup was mixed into a different golden brown casserole. Our green beans were fresh and went into one of our plentiful potato dishes. 

It has to be magical, right?

Santa himself must approve.

But years of a strong ad campaign wore me down. Finally in my young adulthood, while others were binge drinking and/or learning that condoms could have changed the trajectory of their lives, I decided to make it. 

People... people seriously eat this? Like, look forward to it? Or is this just another thing people do in a herd mentality kind of thing? 

Forget politics, religion & money. You really want to start some shit with people, disagree about food. So here's to years of careful menu planning and sticking to personal favorites. May you enjoy whatever casserole is your favorite and have the proper stretchy pants for an extra piece of pie.