Favorite Thanksgivings

My family is a geographically diverse bunch—my parents and I live in San Diego, my aunt in Cleveland, and my uncle in suburban Westchester County. And every other year we all descend on my grandmother’s house in Richmond, Virginia, to do what we do best: eat.

For most other families, Turkey Day itself is the main culinary event of Thanksgiving weekend. But the food I most associate with the holiday isn’t stuffing or cranberry sauce—it’s good old-fashioned Southern barbecue. Every Black Friday, my grandma rewards us for cooking up a storm by ordering enough ribs, beans, and brisket to feed an army. Although we never manage to consume it all, we do our best, and everyone is sent home with leftovers.

I’ve always loved this part of Thanksgiving for its ability to bring my far-flung family together without the formality and stress of the holiday itself. Barbecue isn’t stuffy or high-strung. It’s messy, casual, and comforting, which, in my opinion, is just what a family gathering should be.
— Alison Herman, CC ’15

“Pass the gravy!” It’s an exclamation shouted across Thanksgiving tables everywhere but, in my family, this plea of craving takes on a whole new meaning. On this gluttonous November Thursday, I always make sure to save room for something I’m positive the Pilgrims missed out on—grandma’s homemade lasagna.

From the spicy marinara sauce—or, as my Italian-American relatives so fondly call it, gravy—to the creamy ricotta filling to the delicately layered noodles, everything is made from scratch. No Barilla or Prego nonsense here—everything is expertly concocted by the legend herself, my 79-year-old grandmother. She learned to cook Italian classics out of necessity, taking care of her siblings while her immigrant parents worked to start a new life on the streets of Newark.

I’ve heard that story more than once or twice, and it’s all part of why I love the lasagna so darn much. Not only is it melt-in-your-mouth delicious, but it always winds up igniting some priceless conversation that acts as the perfect accompaniment, even more so than my aunt’s garlic bread.

As the plates are passed from one hand to another, stories of Thanksgivings past evolve into recollections of meaningful, sometimes happy, sometimes sad, and occasionally embarrassing moments that have occurred within the family throughout the years. It seems all of us have our trademark moment—my grandfather once served up an old, un-thawed and half-eaten cherry pie for dessert, my cousin Nicole fell out of her chair, and I mistook the sugar shaker for salt one year, assuring a bit of added sweetness to the meal.

Perhaps my unique Thanksgiving tradition isn’t that much different after all. Reconnecting with loved ones and enjoying a hearty spread of delicious food is really what the holiday is all about—the type of fare served has become irrelevant. Although, in my family, the lasagna is a must.
—Melissa Haney, BC ’14

Most international students at CU can’t have their families join them on this great holiday nor do they have such excitement as their American peers. However, I’ve been lucky enough to have my family with me, and having such a rare opportunity, we decided to celebrate this family holiday.

My brother and I were in the midst of studying for impending midterms. Surprisingly for us, as we were raised in Moscow, American students asked us not how many tests were left, but how we would celebrate the Thanksgiving. At first, we said we might watch movies, shop on Black Friday, and study for finals. But we never followed this plan. Instead, we Googled and shared all the information that we found with our family. Now that we knew why Thanksgiving was celebrated only in North America and how to cook a turkey, cranberry sauce, and sweet potato, we started to prepare for the holiday.

When I first realized that a turkey has to be cooked—as it’s the centerpiece of the dinner—I had two questions: How do I make it as well as the Internet depicted, and how do I not destroy the kitchen? Fortunately, we had our grandmother and her cooking expertise. I was even happier when my mother, confident in her ability to create that festive atmosphere, told me that she would decorate the house and table. Nevertheless, I focused on my part of the preparation. Loving sweets more than savory food, I prepared the sweet potato and cranberry sauce and bought a pumpkin pie.

After watching a few videos on YouTube about how to prepare the turkey, my mother suggested we prepare our traditional special occasion dinner—manty and pilaf for the main dish and vinegret (beetroot salad)—in case we could not manage the turkey. Fortunately, the dishes on our table looked just like the images from the Internet.
Before having the dinner we said why and for what we were thankful. Listening to their appreciations, I learned what our guests, my mother’s international coworkers, value the most. A Japanese coworker was thankful for having a stable job, while an Uzbek coworker was thankful for her healthy family.

Thanksgiving is more than turkey, cranberry sauce, and Black Friday. It is family love, cozy atmosphere, and being thankful for the fortunate lives we have.
—Selby Byashimova, GS ’13

I never planned on going home for Thanksgiving once I left for college. For West Coasters, the trip can be long, stressful, and more trouble than it’s worth. Last year, two of my best friends from high school who have also banished themselves to the East Coast for Thanksgiving came to visit me, and it was one of the best Thanksgivings I’ve ever had. I didn’t have a kitchen, nor did I know how to cook anything remotely edible, so we decided just to buy desserts—arguably the best part of a Thanksgiving dinner. Exhausted from our respective midterms, we went to bed at the extremely reasonable hour of midnight. Imagine our surprise when we woke up at one in the afternoon on Thanksgiving Day.

We decided that it was pointless to even attempt a big Thanksgiving celebration. Instead, we lazed around the empty dorms, went across the street to Ollie’s for a nice Thanksgiving dinner, and then saw “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part I” in theaters. Afterward, we ate our desserts, and just enjoyed being with each other. Now that we are out of the house, some might say it’s time to begin creating traditions of our own, and I am proud to say that I have one—reconnecting with old friends.
—Olivia Wong, BC ’13

Until I was 16, I loved to imagine that I hated New York—I would loathe its claustrophobia, would hide from filthy crowds, would go into anaphylaxis at the sight of skyscrapers. Then I actually visited New York. It was Thanksgiving, and my aunt offered to host an intimate dinner in her apartment. There was a turkey cooked in a borrowed oven one floor up, too many pots stuffed over too few burners, and cranberry sauce out of a can. My family and her friends all crammed into two rent-controlled bedrooms. It was indeed claustrophobic and filthy and crowded, and I left feeling comfortably full.

The morning after, we walked off the pie on our way to Columbia. We took a tour, and I fell in love with everything my two-days-younger self had so despised. In my regrettably adolescent scribblings, I wept rhapsodic over Amsterdam Avenue, afternoon rain, Thai restaurants, Broadway shows, sewer grates, Central Park, and Columbus Circle. Maybe I was still tripping on tryptophan, but the city thoroughly overwhelmed my Midwestern sensibilities. During my Thanksgiving on the Upper West Side, I developed a taste for New York that wouldn’t quit. Now, I’m thankful to live autumn in New York every year.
—Jason Bell, CC ’13

Thanksgiving Recipes

It’s well known that few experiences are as stressful as getting together with the whole family. The holidays, though, are a magical time when negative feelings disappear—or are set aside—in the spirit of togetherness. To help students stranded in the city over the holidays, the following recipes are designed to recreate the camaraderie of Thanksgiving with friends and fellow stragglers. (Special thanks to Theresa Tortorici for helping a clumsy cook.)
—Anatole Ashraf

FRESH CRANBERRY SAUCE
-1 cup water
-1 cup sugar
-one 12-ounce package of fresh cranberries
-1 teaspoon orange zest
-1 apple, peeled and sliced (optional)
-1 teaspoon maple syrup (optional)

No Thanksgiving turkey (or vegetarian substitute) is complete without cranberry sauce, and the Columbia Greenmarket has great deals on these delicious red fruits. In a medium saucepan, combine water and sugar and bring to a boil. Then add cranberries and orange zest (also add apples and maple syrup here if desired). Cover the pot and bring the contents to a simmer until the cranberries pop and become translucent. Remove from heat and chill for several hours—ideally six to eight.

PUMPKIN BISQUE
-1 ½ tablespoons unsalted butter
-1 small onion, chopped
-1 cup canned pumpkin
-1 ¼ cup chicken broth
-2 cups water
-½ teaspoon cinnamon
-¼ teaspoon nutmeg
-1 cup heavy cream
-salt and pepper

With this super-easy Thanksgiving soup, any student will be as welcome as the cousin everyone barely sees but remembers they love to have around during the holidays. In a medium saucepan, sauté the onion in butter until it becomes translucent. Then add the pumpkin, chicken broth, water, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Bring it to boil. Reduce the heat to low, add the cream, and then heat until it starts to simmer. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

CHOCOLATE PECAN PIE
-3 eggs slightly beaten
-1 cup light or dark corn syrup (ideally Karo brand)
-4 ounces (4 squares) Baker’s Semi-Sweet Baking Chocolate Squares, melted and cooled
-1/3 cup sugar
-2 tablespoons butter, melted
-1 teaspoon vanilla extract
-1 ½ cups pecan halves
-one unbaked 9-inch pastry shell (frozen is fine)

The ultimate comfort food, this pie brings to mind all of the warmth of Thanksgiving. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a large bowl, stir eggs, corn syrup, chocolate, sugar, butter, and vanilla until smooth. Stir in the pecans, then pour into the pastry shell. Bake for 50 minutes to an hour. The pie is done when a fork can be stuck in and pulled out clean. Cool on wire rack. Don’t get nervous if the pie deflates—settling is normal.