Right after stuffing the turkey and tucking it in the oven to roast succulently, I begin our age-old Thanksgiving family tradition. The stretching and frying of the bread dough for Italian pancakes.
     When I was a child, Mom would go to the local bakery and order a pound of sweet bread dough. Excitement welled up just at the thought of going to the bakery.  I knew it meant a delectable breakfast treat the next morning. It was a tradition for our small family to have these cultural treats while watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Because my parents grew up and married on the East Coast, watching the parade was a sentimental tradition for them long before it became popular on the West Coast. (The Rose Parade being the Queen of all parades in the west.)
     Early on Thanksgiving morning, I’d crawl out of bed and watch my mother carefully and gently pull balls of dough until they were almost paper thin.  Then she would lay them across hot oil in the cast iron fry pan. In moments, the crisp, light treat would be draining on a paper towel. I would be drooling next to it.
     When ready, I’d grab the treat, shake powdered sugar on top and plop in front of the TV.  Mom still in the kitchen, I would urge her to come out and see the “Rockets” or a gigantic balloon floating down the parade route tethered with thick rope to experts walking the route.
     Since Hubby and I married, I’ve carried on the tradition on Thanksgiving and New Year’s because I’m a West Coast gal whooping it up as the Rose Parade floats pass by. Only now, I’m the one in the kitchen pulling the dough while the family, half awake, takes in the glories of the two parades.
     Sharing with you our special family tradition~may your family enjoy it as much as ours.