Our post-Thanksgiving dinner has become a family ritual. Friday’s dinner even has its own name: “TurkeyPile.” Now that I look at the word in print, it doesn’t sound particularly appetizing does it? But it is old-fashioned wonderful.

The holiday itself has its own heady anticipations. It’s hard to beat the aroma of that roasting gobbler, especially when there is a remaining bouquet of pumpkin and apple pies still hanging in the air. Those scents enhance the long-awaited, bronzed big boy as he comes out of the oven. There’s nothing quite like that mouth-watering eagerness.

Then there’s the reality of getting it all to the dinner plate. It’s a challenge to put the carved bird, the dressing, the gravy and five vegetables all on the table, and all hot at the same time. It’s a lot for one chef – or even two – to get to the table. By the time everyone has their plate loaded, some things just aren’t that piping hot anymore. Deliciousness has its own temperature variable.

But the next day? TurkeyPile is guaranteed piping hot.

Most of Tom Turkey’s meat is sliced and stirred into the gravy. The brown liquid velvet slowly bubbles its way to uber-hotness while all the other veggies are either re-simmering or getting zapped in the microwave. It all comes together quickly and is ready for Turkeypile’s quick buffet line.

The mashed potato availability is assessed early in the day just in case it needs to be supplemented. The white, fluffy mounds of hot potatoes are the second critical component of Turkeypile. They form the base for the turkey-in-gravy, ladled heavily on top. THIS is what guarantees hot turkey on Day 2. Oh yum.

No passing of the full vegetable dishes. No passing each plate to the designated mashed potato person scooping from the scorching dish. No delays, no long verbal Thanksgiving gratitudes. Just food. Hot, hot piles of Tommy T and all his sidekicks.

It’s best to be at the front of the line for the full offering of leftovers. One never knows how many garlic creamed onions will survive to day two. Or the bourbon sweet potatoes. We ALWAYS seem to have leftover Brussels sprouts. Imagine.

Of course, we have to wait for the pies – both days. Our stomachs can handle the holiday dinner – or pies. Just not both in quick succession. The exception might be Malcolm. My 17-year-old, 6-foot grandson, known affectionately as “the bottomless pit,” may have to indulge in a tester piece of one of the dessert pies. Much as my son did as a teenager, Malcolm offers to be the quality control taster. Someone needs to ensure the pies are OK for the elders. And that brings back a memory.

When my son came home for Thanksgiving during his plebe year at the Naval Academy, he couldn’t wait for some “real” food. Arriving late afternoon, he walked in the back door, hit hard by the baking aromas. I had just finished the fifth pie, and they were all set out on the kitchen table. He walked to the table, surveyed the bounty and said, “May I have a piece of the pumpkin pie?”

My exhausted first reaction was NO – I’d barely finished – the oven hadn’t even cooled down. And then I thought, “Hey dummo, who did you bake these for? Look at that face.” And I gave in.

“Of course you can have a piece. Get a plate and fork,” while I cut a generous piece of the pie. He plated the cut piece, left it on the table, picked up the rest of the pie, and with his fork in hand, headed for the family room. He ate the whole thing. He also did a creditable job on his dinner soon after. I got up a little earlier the next day and made another punkin pie.

Since that Thanksgiving, decades ago, the family always makes two pumpkin pies. The first one mostly disappears on T-Day proper. The second pie, once cut, disappears in the strangest way. It diminishes by quarter and half-inch slices throughout the day. It’s the magical shrinking pumpkin pie – a phenomenon that has never actually been witnessed. Some pumpkin pie makes it to Turkeypile. Sometimes. But there are no guarantees. There might even be slicing and hiding. No one really knows anything about it. Total family deniability.

With this gang, the only warranty given for day two is the main attraction: Turkeypile itself. It’s worth waiting for and frankly, hangs on in the taste buds’ memory almost like the big day before.

But, just as a dessert safeguard, I always plan on apple or blueberry pie following Friday’s Turkeypile. Once burned, twice smart.

Marcy O’Brien can be reached at moby.32@hotmail.com.