gobble gobble

Well, here I go again, trying to plan Thanksgiving dinner for an as-yet-unknown number of people. This is one of the most benign American traditions I can think of, and I’ve always felt a little bit disgruntled that we’ve managed to export Valentine’s Day and Halloween without ever trying to foist Thanksgiving onto other cultures as well. It’s a bit of an unbalanced view, I think. Sure, no starving groups of religious nutcases who were assisted by the friendly natives have gone on to become the dominant cultural force on any continent besides North America, but is that really what Thanksgiving is about nowadays? And besides, it’s not like the marketing geniuses who brought you orange-cellophane-wrapped Halloween mums at Netto have any care for piddly historical details.

Of course, I’m mostly just not looking forward to the upcoming hunt for a giant roasting bag. I love to cook, and can say without snarkiness that I get warm fuzzy feelings just thinking about an entire day in the kitchen with a turkey, some potatoes, and heaps and heaps of brightly colored veggies. Oh, and maybe a bottle of wine for, uh, flavor. But I hate shopping, and if I don’t know exactly where to go to find every last thing then I positively dread the experience. So the first thing I am thankful for on this Thanksgiving shall be the presence of the little American grocery, where they have canned pumpkin pie filling with a recipe on the back, in English.

Next up: what is Thanksgiving about nowadays, anyway? I’d answer the question now, but Rasmus is having a housewarming party tonight, and it’s time to get going.