The Chronicles Continue

More than a month has passed since my last posting. I feel as if a book would be more fitting in recounting the tales of life here.

I'll begin where I left off in the previous post, with a meditative spirit of gratitude and a heavy winter coat.

November fortified the weather's chill and welcomed in the holiday season. This year's Thanksgiving made its way to new soil, sans Dutch pilgrims and Native Americans. Instead, the participants were Italian. The Sunday before the Thursday holiday, I prepared the historical meal for my family and friends of Rome. Mario and Anna special ordered a turkey, and with a trip to the Castroni international market, I managed to scrounge up the makings of the Thanksgiving meal.

Mario took on the task of preparing the turkey, with a few minor suggestions of mine. And, with a bunch of Italian helping hands, our feast was full: stuffing from scratch, cranberry sauce (5 euro jar of Ocean Spray's original), cornbread, sautéed green beans, mashed potatoes, soup, and of course the beloved pumpkin pie with homemade dough (frozen-ready doesn't exist in this land).

Oh what a delight it was to be in the kitchen and to share the authentic American tradition with my dear ones. It marked the "firsts" of a few occasions. My cousins witnessed the versatility of the key ingredient: butter, and they embraced the foreign concept of sweet and savory.

As we sat down at the festively-set table, eleven of us in total, I began with a few Italian words. I shared that Thanksgiving, most importantly, marks a celebration of life's blessings. After I gave thanks for the opportunity to be in Italy and share the tradition with all of them present and Anna shared her thoughts, the feast commenced. We filled the bowls with soup with pastina (a Calabrese Thanksgiving dish that reconciles Italian with American). From there, we continued to the main courses. It was quite entertaining to see the reluctance of the others to put portions from all of the dishes on one plate. They went along with it, nonetheless. I explained how the cranberry sauce complements the turkey quite well, and so the experimenting carried on.

Now for any of you who haven't yet enjoyed a meal Italian-style, I should explain to you the stark contrast between our two continents. First of all, the Italian dinner is in no way rushed. First are some appetizers. Then, once everyone is seated, comes pasta. After clearing the pasta bowls, then arrives the meat and vegetables, and perhaps salad. Each serving platter typically has enough for each person to have a generous portion and is therefore left empty, as the prepared amount is precise to the number of people eating. After the dinner plates are cleared away, the fruit is brought out. Following a pause, caffe is made and the dessert is welcomed to the table.

So, you can imagine the oddity it was to eat the turkey with everything else. And even more strange was the fact that there were tons of leftovers. This is where the American fashion peaks in, inviting you to keep picking and eating, without a designated end in sight. My cousin Anna remarked on this precisely, pointing out how one could potentially eat incessantly.

It was at that point that the consequence of Thanksgiving set in... food-coma. We cleared the dishes, with much to package away for the coming days. Next we moved on to the pumpkin pies. I was especially proud of these sweet treats, as it was the first time I made them from scratch (thanks to the help of cousin Francesco the night before and a great amount of metric conversion).

Instead of American football as background noise, we were entertained with the Derby della Madonnina (Italian title for the rivalry soccer match of Inter vs. Milan), a reminder that despite the transformative setting of our meal, we were still in Italy.

All and all, everyone enjoyed the meal and greatly appreciated experiencing the well-known American tradition first-hand.

A cheerful video chat to America closed the evening, allowing Mom and Nanna to share a greeting with the cousins and see the transported American tradition shared with the extended family here in Rome, a beautiful reality of the transcontinental connection we have.