Posts Tagged ‘turkey’

The Turkey (a Thanksgiving Poem)

Turkey ready to roast (Eat Me. Drink Me.)

Slowly roasting in the oven are the chestnuts for the stuffing and the bread whose top is crusting, while the pies that line the counter – lemon, mince and plum and apple – share a gleaming spot of sunlight with a heaping of delightful green beans, relish, candied yams; stacked high ladles, pots, and pans fill the sink to overflowing, as the cooks keep stirring dishes and dear uncle Albert minces with the cold, hard slicing of the knife, knife, knife.

Aunt Belinda in the kitchen is in charge of all the mixing, the potatoes and the gravy, the green salad, peas, and pastry. What’s leftover goes to Mother with her pantry prowess bared. She’s been up since seven thirty basting thick the frozen turkey while her darling husband relishes the TV’s golden glow and the giant bird is soaking in the juices all its own. Aunt Belinda shouting orders fills the kitchen with her roar while involuntary winces lurk in mother’s charming smile. Still dear Uncle Albert minces with the cold, hard slicing of the knife, knife, knife. » Continue reading this post...

Explaining Holidays or How to Plan a Dinner Party without Furniture

Thanksgiving spread (Eat Me. Drink Me.)

We argued about Squanto for a while, some of us positing that he had been integral to the first Thanksgiving, others that he wasn’t a real figure to begin with, sounding too much like a bad and somewhat culturally insensitive joke. Squanto, however, as the internet verified a few glasses of wine later, was real. He had been kidnapped as a child and taken to England and taught English. After a journey of intrigue and backstabbing, he traveled back to his native America on John Smith’s ship to discover that most of the new England tribes had been wiped out. It’s a heartwarming story, but not part of the Thanksgiving myth. The debate continued.

There were thirteen countries, twelve of which don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, represented at Thanksgiving this year, so there wasn’t much corroborating the North Americans could do on each other’s version of history. It seems we each had slightly varying versions of the First Thanksgiving. We considered performing dramatic retellings to the assembled guests and letting them vote for the most entertaining, and hence, definitive story. That seems to be how history works, anyway. » Continue reading this post...