Thanksgiving in Corsica

A blast from the past:
What follows is a cut-and-paste from an email I wrote some friends in November of 1998 while I was in France working with my aunt and uncle in the winery: (believe it or not, it is all true)

So somehow, at some point, the French relatives got the idea that I was going to prepare an authentic Thanksgiving dinner (seeing as how I was staying so late into the year this time). I wisely prepared my escape by discretely announcing my date of departure from Corsica as November 26. I thought I had it made until a week ago when my Aunt tells me, "Since your cousin is coming home next weekend and you'll be leaving the day before Thanksgiving, why don't we celebrate it early - say this weekend. Oh, I'm inviting my parents too"

Oh, great!  My thanksgiving knowledge consists of which Nouveaux Beaujolais is cheapest this year. So I start sending the pleas for help to my mother:  "Well, you need a big turkey of course" Do Turkeys exist in France? I think it's a new world meat... When I start asking around at the stores here, the response is more or less along the lines of "You mean a WHOLE one?" coupled with those exasperated aren't-you-an-idiot looks that only the French can give. Eventually the best I can find is a frozen, pre-stuffed (I never did understand with what, but it was definitely not cornbread-based which Mom said was a must) turkey weighing a whopping 3.5 pounds. In the same store, I spot a beautiful frozen bird, weighing in around 7 pounds and, best of all, unsullied by any strange French stuffing or sauces! "That's the ONE !" I cry (turns out it was a neutered rooster (is that a violation of the Geneva convention? Is this commonly done in the U.S. and I am simply ignorant?))


Next the quest for cornbread was on. This one turned out to be easier than expected as I found a box of cornmeal in a grocery store sandwiched in between "Authentic American pancake mix" and "Authentic Mexican Salsa Sauce" in the "Strange and Unusual" aisle. The cornbread, avoiding baking like the plague all my life, turns out to be thinner after baking than before. Suspicious, but probably okay since I'm going to break it into small pieces anyway... I felt like things were going awry when my Aunt looked simply horrified when I was roaming through her refrigerator in search of random things to throw into the stuffing, "You mean there's no meat in the stuffing?" I hem, I haw, but quickly remember those pearls of wisdom from my mother ("When dealing with the French, be your most confident when you are at a complete loss"), "Ah, no - you see- the first pilgrims who started this grand tradition were actually vegetarians and they, uh, except for fowl of course, and so an authentic American thanksgiving has no meat. Except for the turkey, or the neutered rooster, as the case may be". She looked mighty suspicious of my explanation, especially after she caught me slipping a little bacon in the stuffing. But, hey, the French do respect a well told twist of the truth when delivered with confidence.

Vegetables, I need vegetables with lots of fall colors. Bake it, puree it, stream it, boil it, whatever- don't know what they were, I just made sure there were plenty of colors in different bowls scattered around the table. Ah, you should have seen me convincing my Uncle that you were supposed to put instant mashed potato flakes in the pureed squash (how was I too know it was going to come out as soup?).  Corn on the cob, I knew, was going to be tough. I sucked up my courage and spent an afternoon chasing down ever more exotic grocery stores; "On the cob? That is for the animals on the farm..." "But I can find it in cans and not just in the dog food aisle!" "Yes, well, that is for summer salads and to be served cold." Finally I was forced to surrender and made some form of something they tell me is called succotash (my version definitely did look like dog food).


My mother, with her intensive studies of southern lifestyle, sends an email with a simple "Fried green tomatoes would be nice."  Now I'm pretty sure my mother has never made fried green tomatoes and she has definitely never served it at any of her 26 thanksgivings I've eaten... but my table is missing some green so I go for it (how was I to know it turns out yellow after you roll it in cornmeal?)

Now I am a big pecan pie fan and I wasn't going to give on this one.  Pecans: Negative, not in season. Corn syrup: Negative, too disgusting to contemplate for the French. I substitute honey and walnuts. As I said, I'm no baker, so I didn't have it in me to fake it when my uncle came to check on me. Being a noble sort and not much of a baker either, he takes one look at my batter and starts adding flour and yeast. This is not good I'm thinking, but he looks so happy I say nothing...The pie winds up rising like a fluffy baker's hat in the oven and, after we cool it down and cut away the burned parts, we're left with something flatter than my cornbread (and with less sugar). I assure him this is normal and that all pecan pies are like this. He shrugs, looks happy and comments "At least it doesn't have corn in it!"


I'm starting to think of the plan of attack for presentation, distraction, running for cover, etc., when my Aunt comes in with a long face and says "My parents can't leave their house, my father's doctor says he is too frail to take the stairs." Okay, now there will only be three disappointed French people tonight. "I was thinking, we could just pack the whole feast into our cars and drive over to their house!" Thank god no one took a photo of my uncle and I slipping a 3/4 baked neutered rooster in an orange crate into the back of his Fiat Punto.


I'm reheating things at the grandparents' pad: in the oven, on the stove, on all the burners, when they start trying to help me "What order do we serve the dishes in?" "What are the traditional predinner drinks and what munchies do you serve with them?" "What's the traditional after dinner drink?" But now I'm on point, I'm in the zone, I can do and say no wrong, and so, effortlessly, the stroke of genius comes forth from my lips, "All at once; American whiskey straight up with lots of popcorn; champagne."


After getting tipsy on the whisky and filling up with heavily salted popcorn, the dinner looked and smelled grand and everyone was happy enough to think they were enjoying it. When I saw the warning signs, "No thanks, you can keep that mashed, puréed succotash thing on your side of the table...", I quickly yanked the dishes off the table and brought out the champagne while cutting the smallest possible slivers of the Honey & Walnut Pecan pie with gobs of vanilla ice cream onto everyone's plate. This technique of serving drinks on empty stomachs and filling everyone up with popcorn was so effective, they are still thanking me! Ha!


Hope you all have a nice, authentic thanksgiving as well next week. I will be leaving Corsica as planned next week, but Thanksgiving has already come and gone in France.


all the best,


Ken