I love Thanksgiving. It's my favorite part of the holiday season, before everyone's a stressed-out mess. Family is happy to be together, there's non-stop chatter, and no forced laughter like you hear by Christmastime. Relaxed, warm, and aromatic with every wonderful spice that has blessed mankind and, most especially, humanity in America.

For several years when I was an ovo-lacto vegetarian (meaning I ate eggs and milk products, and became a connoisseur of every kind of potato and macaroni salad served at events that forgot veggie options), I silently grieved that I wasn't participating in the family ritual of chawing on turkey flesh. I felt good about my decision, but it wasn't the same - them there, eating the bloated, crispy bird pieces and talking about how tender it was, how juicy, and me here, picking at pasta or something nice that, no matter how wonderful it was, wasn't turkey. Without turkey, was it Thanksgiving at all?  

I'd heard of Tofurky. Whole Foods sold them - balls of tofu stuffed with wild rice stuffing and seasoned to taste like something good. If not turkey, something good. I heard they sold out every year at Whole Foods. I would not be denied.

I called Whole Foods every few days until the shipment was delivered, and must have been one of the first to buy that year. Once I got it (and, oh man, it wasn't cheap), I refrigerated it until Thanksgiving Day when, like a football, I hauled it in the crook of my arm to my aunt's house, proudly popping it into the oven next to the mammoth 18-pound monster turkey beast I was definitely having NO PART OF.

Everyone who mattered was there - all the closest family: my mom, my sister, my Grams, my aunt, my cousin and all the attendant men, who usually shuffle off to the living room to watch football or nap before dinner while we, the womenfolk, dissect societal ills, cluck-clucking at this or that, and laughing all the while, the way womenfolk do as they prepare for a big meal and commence consuming all the air in the kitchen.

Then it was time to remove The Bird and let it cool. Meanwhile, my succulent Tofurky, as I imagined it, was finishing up its own roasting process. Or baking process. It's unclear what happens to Tofurky when you cook it in this way.

However, it's not at all unclear how people react to the finished product.

I'll never forget it: My aunt, removing the browned Tofurky ball with potholder mittens, and bringing it over to the table, instantly halted in that movement and surrounded by womenfolk, young and old.

And three or four heads, along with mine, crowded in a circle above the Tofurky - uttering a spontaneous, drawn-out sound initially meant to be faint praise, you could just tell everyone meant to say, "ohhh!"

But what came out instead was "eeewwww." I laugh out loud to recall it! They actually said "eeewwww" altogether in a visceral response. As if all humanity, especially in America on Thanksgiving, should reject a Tofurky on sight alone.

I got my just desserts. The Tofurky was Tofunky to the nth degree. The only redeemable quality was the wild rice stuffing, which I picked at on my plate, avoiding anything anti-turkey, all the while gazing with terrible longing at the perfect slices of moist, seasoned Turkey on theirs.

My vegetarian days were clearly numbered.

Not long after, my husband (a former chef) cajoled me into eating fish by arguing I needed protein, and fish wasn't like the other meats. He has since called fish the "gateway meat," as marijuana is the "gateway drug" to harder stuff.... Because not long after fish, I was hooked on chicken, then pork and finally beef again.

My family cheered, and loved him all the more for it.

This year, as we gather at my aunt's to prepare and enjoy Thanksgiving, I recall the Tofurky debacle and know we're bound to laugh about it. How could we not? It's not like they'd let me forget it.

Did I mention Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday? Bring on the turkey, hold the cranberries - but never, ever withhold the stories.