This morning I looked around my dining room and realized that just one week ago Thanksgiving was celebrated right here. That’s a big deal when here is Italy. Italians all know about the special menu for the somewhat mysterious American holiday called Thanksgiving. Tacchino ripieno (stuffed turkey) is not seen here, not on menus and rarely in private homes. But from the first Thanksgiving dinner I made here I could tell that an invite was a pretty hot ticket and so my natural desire to cook and make parties was stoked. Not all the fixings are available in Italy, but with some ingenuity and a bit of planning ahead one can put together a decent replica of the traditional meal. Cranberries and pecans are not available at all but I’ve been known to require a can or two of one of these special ingredients as a hostess gift from visitors from the States. We got by last week with a respectably large turkey filled with a cornbread/sausage/sage stuffing, sweet potatoes, white potatoes, green beans, orange/tangerine/cranberry/pineapple/nut filled orange halves, pumpkin pie, cashew maple chocolate pie, and fruit and nut bowls.  This year there were nine of us around the table and as the night wore on and the platters of food just disappeared right before my eyes, I found myself reflecting on Thanksgivings past.

Italian Thanksgiving Table

I had the supreme pleasure of being born into a large Italian-American family of four strong sisters who divided up holiday hosting duties and over the years became known for their signature feasts. Aunt Clare had Thanksgiving and to our good fortune she lived in a Currier & Ives setting……a real over-the-river-and-through-the-woods spot in Easton, Connecticut. By the time our family arrived (always after a local football game which my father just could not do without on that day), the place would be jammed with my other aunts and their families. There were a lot of cousins in the mix and while the men mixed drinks and the women fussed in the kitchen, we would all dash outside to check the ice on the pond….just to add a bit of danger to the moment.
When we were finally summoned to the table, most of the adults had rosy cheeks and cheery dispositions so the meal got off to a great start. Every year. A giant (and perfectly roasted) turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes by the ton, turnips, green peas, creamed onions, cranberry sauce, enough gravy so that there was always more, and dinner rolls that were soft and buttery. Desserts were epic. Of course there were bowls of fruit….tangerines, oranges, apples, pears, and pomegranites with all kinds of nuts in their shells just poured over the top. But the real headliners of the day were the pies….not just one or two but a whole selection. You could count on finding at least two that you really wanted to sample and to add just a bit more pleasure, each of them was served with a very generous dollop of whipped cream. Those sisters could cook.
Along about that time, someone would drive all the cousins to the movies where we’d spend the next few hours with everyone else’s kids hooping it up and watching some specially selected action-packed or cartoon movie. I’m sure this is where I (and many others) got food and cinema inextricably linked. By the time we got back to the house, the table had been cleared, all the dishes had been done, the men had had their naps, and the table was set for sandwiches made of dinner leftovers which were even better than the original meal.
Needless to say, our ride home was pretty silent…we were all in comas by then and my father had the car, the radio and the road to himself. Just him and his cigar (which he wasn’t allowed to smoke in Aunt Clare’s house).
I guess I’d have to say that those days were my training for how to do holidays. Lots of Thanksgivings have gone by since then. I’ve been a guest at some and I’ve hosted many more than I can count, but those early ones live on in every single replay….the recipes, the aromas, the feelings of warmth and happiness and love, but most of all the feelings of thanksgiving for all that we have in our lives. That is what it’s all about, isn’t it?