I always prefer a bit of a funky menu at the Thanksgiving meal. This is primarily so because growing up in a Cuban-American household, we would have roast port, black beans and rice and the ever ubiquitous boiled cassava. As children of immigrants, we were definitely thankful for the opportunities, even if the gratefulness was a bit marred by resentment of the prejudice and rejection we faced constantly. Still, we knew that here, in the United States, we could at least have "a go" at real success. Our school mates were children of immigrants, too. They were, amongst others, Polish, Peruvian, Irish, Russian, Pakistani, Italian, Vietnamese, Ecuadorian, Korean, and Egyptian. When Thanksgiving Day came around, their tables were invariably filled with foods reminiscent of their own motherlands but always included some "American" dish. At our house it would be a pumpkin pie.
These days, my Thanksgiving table is more traditionally "American". We have string bean casserole and dinner rolls and of course, a gigantic over-cooked turkey. My mother-in-law brings the most fabulous sweet potato concoction with marshmallows and brown sugar ever made. My kids enjoy the American ubiquitous food.... macaroni and cheese. And now, instead of a token "American" food, we have a token Cuban food, something I know my Father would have enjoyed, such as sweet plantains or turron.
No matter how our Thanksgiving menus may have evolved, however, there are somethings that haven't changed; that is, the love, humility and hope that is felt by all sitting around the table, on the wonderfully American Thanksgiving Day.
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