Sunday, November 11, 2007

newsletter nov 07

good cateress newsletter, Nov 07

My thoughts for November have ranged over a couple of different options, so in the end I decided to write briefly about both experiences.

My first Thanksgiving in America, almost 25 years ago was in a beautiful apartment on East End Avenue belonging to a very successful family, my friend Linda was Nanny to their twin girls. I was younger and arrogant enough to argue politics with some big business leaders, who I suspect thought I was quietly amusing; and placated me by listening to my thoughts and ideas. Certainly the whole reason for giving thanks was lost on me, surely Thanksgiving was just another name for Harvest Festival?

It took some years to realize that I was giving Thanks myself, instead of just giving thanks for the European survival in a new unexplored land. I feel that we forget just how much we have to be grateful for, not least getting up each day in somewhere safe and warm with a choice of foods to eat.

Thanksgiving is a wonderful holiday for we new immigrants to America. A holiday that none of us have ever celebrated and so it is untainted by memories of past holidays with their mix of happiness, joys and family misunderstandings over past celebrations.

I really enjoy that each family has its own traditional foods as varied as the cultures that Americans derive from. Italian sausage stuffing or a spicy or herb stuffing? Turkey, Goose or Ham? Candied yams or sweet potato puree in oranges? Baby onions in white sauce or braised. Roast potatoes or mashed? And on through all the various accompaniments. Pies? Apple, pumpkin, sweet potato or mincemeat?

Num and I make a mix of both our cultures, agreeing on whatever we make on Thanksgiving, we will make the alternative for Christmas, although some of our favourites are served for both.

For our turkey we prefer a boned breast of turkey that we stuff with chopped apples, herbs and a little onion, which we then roast. The fruit keeps the breast moist and gives a sweet flavor. Nums grandmothers corn bread dressing, collard greens or Swiss Chard, roast root vegetables and gravy. Followed by Nums famous Sweet Potato Pie, another family recipe, and my apple mincemeat pie. We cook together buzzing around the kitchen together, dancing and singing to our current favourite albums, probably some Stevie Wonder. Eating to Miles Davis.

One year we drove to Vermont, where we barbecued the Turkey outside with a small snow storm falling around us. It was all quiet and magical. Once the turkey was cooked and we were inside finishing the other cooking off, we looked outside to see a large female Moose quietly ambling up the dirt road; she stopped and looked at the area where moments before we had been cooking. We ate our meal, safe and warm inside with the snow still falling. Surely early settlers survived the long winters reflecting on the joys of their Thanksgiving and surviving another year.

The British November celebration, if it can be called that, that I have fond memories of, is Guy Fawkes night. Where we blood thirsty Brits celebrate the burning at the stake of Guides Fawkes who tried to blow up the Houses of Parliament in 1604. He and his co conspirators did not want to blow up the King, only Parliament and so they warned the King and were consequently captured. Fires were lit across the country when the conspirators were burnt at the stake for treason, and hence forward Britain has celebrated November 5th. Although I wonder if it was just a replacement for the ancient Samhain celebration?

As children in October we would start to make our guy from old clothes, stuffed with straw and other flammable material, making a face out of a swede (rutabaga) like a scarecrow - Wurzel Gummidge. We would then take our ‘Guy’ to a street corner, calling out “Penny for the Guy, Penny for the guy” People would give us pennies, admiring our handiwork. With this money we would buy a box of fireworks to let off around our fire. The weekend before the 5th, kids of various ages would be all around town with their guys in wheel barrows and go carts. Guys in all shapes and sizes; works of art, some scary. All calling out for Penny for fireworks.

The Fifth would arrive and all through school we could be heard chanting
Remember, Remember the Fifth of November
Gunpowder Treason and Plot
We see no reason
Why Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot.
Some years we would have enormous fires, or so they seemed to me as a child. Generally burning all the autumn debris from clearing up the garden. We would have been collecting broken branches while on walks to add to the pile. The guy would be tied to a stake in the middle of the fire.

The night would come in cold, clear and frosty. Our excitement had built all day, with fervent discussion over which boxes of fireworks we had. Would there be enough sparklers to prevent tears and frustration later on?

Mum would have made a huge pot of soup, something hearty like potato and leek or Minestrone. Mugs would be laid out on the counter. Potatoes were baking in the oven, butter and a bowl of grated cheddar cheese ready to be mashed into the steaming halves. And the all important sausages (Bangers) were sizzling on trays in the oven. Could there be a better winter picnic?

Dad would light the fire and take charge of the fireworks. Everyone was gathered around the fire, keeping warm while eating the hearty fare. Of course, the sparklers were already running out. The Catherine wheel (firework) spun on the garden fence; Roman candles sputtered to an end; Rockets shot in the air from the milk bottle or occasionally fell over and shot across the garden. The guy burnt splendidly, with everyone cheering as he collapsed!

On nights like these, we learnt to look into the skies, which were still relatively clear then. Learning our basic constellations; the Plough, Orions Belt, Cassiopeia, seeing shooting stars and being excited about heavens rockets.

I don't remember desserts but I know there must have been something like gingerbread or fairy cakes. For me this is one of the only celebrations were the sweet is not the foremost memory.


Be grateful and thankful this November.