By Joanne Peterson

The Beacon

Thanksgiving: A drive to West Seattle to spend the afternoon with daughter Lisa, husband Eric and darling baby Adam. Wed have the traditional menu: Turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, all of which my daughter insisted upon preparing.

As we planned dinner, I said on the phone, Could I bring the sweet potatoes and green bean casserole and pumpkin pie?

NOT sweet potatoes. NOT green bean casserole, she said firmly. Dessert, though. You can bring dessert. But NOT anything with pumpkin.

No sweet potatoes? No green bean casserole? No pumpkin pie? What would the pilgrims think? Surely, for their first Thanksgiving feast, they prepared green beans with canned mushroom soup and crispy canned onion rings. Well, perhaps they did not.

More to the point, though, what would my mom and my grandma think?

At least my daughter agreed to my suggestion of fresh asparagus and my customary cranberry-orange sauce. And Uncle Warren could make his traditionalshrimp cocktail.

For dessert, how about apple pie? she asked. Sure, I said, disappointed but agreeable. I can do that.

I baked the apple pie Thanksgiving morning, an hour before leaving for West Seattle. I put it in Lisas still-warm oven, out of reach of the sweet-natured 170-pound Neapolitan Mastiff patrolling the house, randomly flinging slobber over leather furniture, baby toys and my brothers camera.

The last time I took a pie there, strawberry-rhubarb, the dog, Kierra, waited until we stepped out onto the deck for a moment before she took the pie plate off the back of the kitchen counter, ate the pie and placed the empty pie plate on the coffee table in the living room.

She was stretched out on three-quarters of the couch, snoring monumentally, when we returned. You see, theres no guarantee at their house that there will be dessert available unless you tuck it away in a safe place.

On Thanksgiving, as we served up the turkey and other dishes, my daughter took small portions. Im saving room for the pie, she announced.

I hoped my efforts would meet her expectations. The thing about a pie is that until you cut and serve it, theres no way to tell whether its going to be perfect or only passable. Too sweet? Too tart? Too done?

But, despite my barely concealed disappointment at not making my moms recipe (off the can!) for The Best Pumpkin Pie Ever, I will say the apple pie turned out just right. My daughter said I cut her too big a piece. She polished that one off and helped herself to a second slice.

Baby Adam, 7 months old, sporting the edge of a first tooth, sat in his high chair, accepting spoonfuls of mashed potatoes, mushed-up avocado and applesauce.

Next year, I think he might be old enough to appreciate sweet potatoes, green bean casserole and pumpkin pie. In fact, Im counting on it.

PS. Thanks for the many bike donations to theDec 12th Toy Shop at the Food Bank at Edmonds United Methodist Church, 828 Caspers Streeet. Now we're short on new gifts for kids of all ages. Can you help by 2 p.m. on Dec 11?