A boy and his Easy Bake earn a Thanksgiving toast

It all started, I have heard, with the Easy Bake Oven.

Frank was just a boy in the swamps of Florida about 40 years ago when he asked his father, “Rabbit,” for an Easy Bake Oven for Christmas. Remember those? They were toy ovens powered by a light bulb. Somehow, they actually cooked cakes and breads.

Now Rabbit was a Marine drill instructor and just as tough as they come. If one of Frank’s sisters had asked for the Easy Bake, he would have had no objections. He was ashamed and embarrassed that “Little Rabbit” showed such deviant tendencies. He made Frank “drop and give me 50” pushups even though our boy was only 8 years old.

Frank struggled through the pushups and got the oven for the next Christmas. Frank considers himself the smartest man in New England and he figured correctly even then that, given his personality and his success with women, he would be alone most of his life and would be doing all his own cooking. While he was collecting numerous degrees in psychology, Frank developed cooking into a fetish, which makes all of us appreciate him even more.

We also agree that if Frank didn’t cook, none of use would have anything to do with him. He makes a barbecue sauce with at least 56 ingredients, which can bring tears to your eyes.

On Wednesday and Thursday, at his Gorham retreat, Frank conducted his annual “Festival of the Brown Food Groups.” It is the only time anyone visits Frank.

As a Southern boy, Frank has some rigid traditions for the eating holiday. They are eat, drink, football, nap, followed by more football, eat, drink and nap.

The Wednesday night kickoff included carefully chosen wines with servings of home-smoked salmon and baked crab dip. The dip alone is worth the drive.

Thursday morning opened with omelets cooked to order, caffeinated liquids and assorted toast and jams. Everyone is advised to “go light” on breakfast because the main course is already in the oven.

Naps are required between breakfast and dinner to rest both the mind and digestive system, which are about to get a major workout.

The main course is turkey and giblet gravy, of course, with mashed potatoes, orange-Grand Marnier cranberry sauce with a choice of farm-style or cornbread stuffing, green beans, a sauteed variation of a nicoise salad, Frank’s famous candied yams and assorted home-baked breads.

But desserts are Frank’s real specialty. After more football and a nap, you are required to choose between homemade pumpkin pie, pecan pie, cherry pie, sherbet and frozen fruit parfaits. This year’s newcomer was tiramisu.

If there is any room before the next nap, the rest of the table holds red and white wines, lagers and ales, aperitifs, various Caribbean rums with barley and rye whiskeys. Every house should have a bottle of B&B cognac, solely for the purpose of making room for the next course. My mother used to serve B&B when we were kids. I hated it. Now I understand.

As we waddle back to the couches for more football, then the last nap of the day, we raise a toast to the parts of our lives for which we are thankful.

My first toast is always to Frank. My second is always to his Easy Bake Oven.