Alice's Restaurant

 

Kudos to the impressario

Harvesttime is best for remarking on what we have.  Perhaps our earth-dependent ancestors instilled in us the feeling of gratitude during this season of sustenance.  That or it’s a genetic guilt trip about life  “back in the day”.  Whatever the rationale, this year it was especially vital for me to recognize Thanksgiving; I have been not only living, but also thriving off the myriad opportunities available to me of late.  What’s more, being away from home, the creation of Thanksgiving was one way to bring America closer to one group of temporary expatriates.  With these mantles firmly festooned, my fellow American students and I commenced the arrangements for a shindig usually spearheaded by our elders.  (I came away with renewed respect for my parents – there are many variables to consider!)  Everyone was to bring something, and something was to bring everyone.  Space was reserved, cooking accoutrement procured, guests invited (“Thanksgiving with the Americans” was never so fitting) and apprehension built.  Certain groceries remained elusive; full turkeys are not sold in the average Hungarian supermarket.  Neither are cranberries, it seems, and sweet potatoes are few and far between.  We received Black Friday as a day off classes, but took our exam Thanksgiving morning instead of parade watching.  Afterwards, everyone began the real day’s work. 

My team was responsible for making stuffing, so we tackled the dish early to free up kitchen space for others.  There were four kitchens at our disposal, but none of them was large enough on its own and – as we would soon learn – none of them was in tiptop shape.  With five pounds of stuffing set to cool (think of the number of breadcrumbs), I went to check that the room was ready.  As I arranged tables and chairs, it occurred to me just how many people we would be serving that evening.  In addition to the 20-some people in the program, we expected our headmaster, coordinator, other teachers and Hungarian friends.  I certainly hoped we would have enough food.  With this worry creeping steadily into view, I went to kibitz with the other chefs.  Luckily, everyone was working away on his or her respective tasks.  What about the turkey?  We had found cutlets of the Thanksgiving bird and one group was working on their preparation.  Somehow, though, the ovens were not quite hot enough to cook them thoroughly.  Intensify panic. 

photo credit: the lovely Katrina Carlsen

Ignoring our pleas otherwise, the clock continued to march forward and with it came the arrival of our guests.  Since last I had assembled the room, it had been transformed with tablecloths, candles, table settings, centerpieces and the like.  With flickering flames against dimmed lighting reflected in happy eyes, the atmosphere was the right degree of sentimental and comforting.  Though the main course was still underway, all the appetizers, side dishes, and desserts made their way to the buffet.  We took our seats and the worry ebbed.  Everyone, hosts and guests alike, had the opportunity to speak specifying how this night differed from traditions at home or about emerging first impressions of this festival.  We ate, we celebrated, we talked, we laughed, and there was enough of everything.  The turkey did make a belated appearance in the end; perhaps she was just offering not to overshadow the other table stars.  Spiced pumpkin soup was a hit, green bean hot dish made a true Midwestern appearance, our stuffing hit the spot, and the salad, the lovingly stuffed cabbage, the dependable macaroni, and all the carefully crafted deserts were devoured with abandon. 

Being away from home and having to explain the significance of the holiday to our guests forced us to consider the purpose of giving thanks. I think we silently agreed: the world exposure opportunities at hand are exceptional, but even more uncommon: the collective identity we had created along the way.  In the absence of the familiar, a new entity was borne of the shared experiences in the classroom, on the road, and in the heart.  Comfortably fed with nourishment for the soul and stomach, we began the laundering and the leave-taking.  While the entire affair was far from traditional, it will remain forever memorable.