A couple of Thanksgivings ago, I wrote about a disappointing evening during which I was the only American sitting at a Thanksgiving Day table eating turkey in Zurich. Last Sunday, I was again the only American at a turkey-eating table. Yet the experience was absolutely the opposite and beautiful.
The table was mine.
Well, it was my physical table, but present were two generations of my family in recipes and memories. Mom had, in fact, dictated the menu to me in five pages via several phone chats, which culminated in a "conference call" fit in between my seminars and her busy, retiree schedule.
Also present at the table were genuinely good friends, one of whom had thought of the idea to begin with and showed such enthusiasm that he even spent three hours shopping with me, carrying the turkey from the butcher and ultimately carving it at the table. The eight of us originated from seven countries (oh sorry, that's nine people if you count the baby celebrating his first holiday season). We toasted, and teased each other, and asked each other questions, and variously enjoyed (or so I hope) a new experience together.
One day I hope I will again share the Thanksgiving turkey at my childhood home table.
Until then, I will feel highly grateful for this one...even with the hours of preparation, stress over how it would all be ready and still hot at the same time, and "disaster" that remained in my kitchen when most everyone strolled out. (Well, one guy did stay to help and eat leftovers. Thank you!) Now I know why Mom and Grandma always went to such trouble. It's the love and spirit of sharing that goes into it that makes the difference.
Jill, a beautiful turkey: sounds like you all had fun, you were laughing in every picture! It's wonderful to have friends, isn't it!!!!! Love, MOM
Posted by: Jane Allemang | December 04, 2009 at 02:11 AM