Thanksgiving In July

The doorbell rang. Oh no! They were early. My to-do list was still miles long.

The day was humid and in the high nineties. I dabbed the sweat from my forehead and tightened my apron ties.  I was excited. Four wonderful folks from Austria were here to visit our family. Just think, they would be so pleased having travelled all those miles for this scrumptious meal that would soon hearten and satisfy as well as impress with a bit of American tradition.

Why? Because they were friends of a priest friend, and we had never met them. So, I ensured my menu would be tasty and filling, truly aiming to shine.

 “Ah, it’s so hot in here,” they all exclaimed, waving their hands about. With a pitcher of iced tea, my husband settled our guests and children in the dining room and poured generous glasses full. ‘Hurrah,” they shouted as they downed the drink and napkinned their sweaty faces.

I smiled, stepping back into the kitchen. I had been up since daylight baking my “special recipe pumpkin pie.” Now cooling, a fragrant goodness, the sweetness of both sugar and spice, filled the kitchen. Now it was time to complete my cooking dance.

Into the pot went the potatoes to boil, the baked sweet ones cut in the bowl, chunky style. Cornmeal and molasses bread was rising, soon to be baked to a crispy crust with tender crumb goodness. I tasted the gravy.  There was an additional sprinkle of this and that … until yum! It was just right. The colonial stuffing was screaming for a garden variety of chopped veggies and special spices. And the homemade cranberry sauce required a special serving dish. Gravy needed a bit of thickening before being poured into the gravy boat. And, oh, one last thing …hot corn had to be cut off the cob into a serving dish and buttered.  

Pulling the large pan from the oven, the large turkey was browned and crisp.  Once it is set, it will be ready for our guests.   

Finally, it was almost time to serve. Removing my apron, I peeked into the dining room. Everyone was engaged in stimulating conversation. Their hands were gesturing, their faces expressive and filled with wonderment. And although still sweaty from the heat, the happy roar of cheerful comradery rose above it.  While they were from a different culture halfway around the world, there was an embrace of brotherly banter.

Hmm. I wondered. Perhaps by wanting to shine with early colonial dishes, I had missed out on the better portion.

“Excuse me, gentlemen and my family, it is time to eat," I said. With that, my husband served the turkey, and the older children placed the serving bowls of dressing, gravy, white and sweet potatoes, buttered corn, and two loaves of sweet colonial bread onto the lacy tablecloth. Plates were then piled high with the delicious meal, and the volume of cheerful voices sang on high. Suddenly, all was quiet as heads bowed and a special blessing spoken.

For a long moment. 

The bursting rattle of forks and knives soared as the tasty dinner was happily consumed.  

Then a hush as one of the Austrian men stood up.  “This was such a delightful dinner! If this is the way Americans eat all the time, I will visit the States again!”  He raised his wine glass, “But more importantly, we appreciate your kindness in welcoming us into your home. This day we have made wonderful friends.”

Years have gone by. The pilgrim Thanksgiving of old colonial times, overshadowed by the sharing of fellowship over table, created novel and viable friendships. Hopefully to play forward as opportunity presents. 

I had been distracted as cook and hostess.  But it was still a triumph.

Then and there, I changed up my tune, making alternate decisions for another feast. There would be less dashing around. Instead, I would be seated around a table with our dear friends. I would embrace the gaiety of comradery and faith-building conversation while enjoying a tasty cuisine. I would choose the better portion. Cook less, take off my apron, fluff up my hair! And yes, grab a fork.

And perhaps next time I would choose a simpler American menu of hot dogs and cheeseburgers topped off with giant chocolate sundaes.

… “and that’s how I live it.”