Last month, on the evening of Nov 28, Thanksgiving Day in the US, I sat down with friends to a home-cooked feast with all the usual trimmings — baked poultry, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole and gravy. And in the corner of the room, several sumptuous desserts — including a two-layer chocolate cake — tempted us all to leave a little space to enjoy them as well.
And yet, as we all tucked into this American-style Thanksgiving dinner, I knew we remained largely alone in the community surrounding us. After all, Thanksgiving is not a holiday in China. That I could take the time off at all felt like a miracle itself.
Unlike the US, Thanksgiving only thrived on the menus of a handful of restaurants and hotels dishing up traditional fare in Beijing. In the local supermarkets here, Thanksgiving really didn’t exist. No towering displays of stuffing mix, pumpkin puree, fried onions and cream of mushroom soup, or ready-made gravy. No pre-baked pumpkin or pecan pies to cut and serve for guests. Not even a gigantic freezer section loaded with huge turkeys.
I had to work extra-hard to make it a memorable holiday, which meant preparing from scratch ingredients and dishes most Americans take for granted, with a vegan twist. Things like vegetable broth, gravy, cream of mushroom soup, bread crumbs for stuffing, and even those sinfully delicious fried onions you sprinkle all over your green bean casserole. That resulted in a marathon day of cooking prior to the big day — and one that left me with a newfound respect for what goes into this traditional holiday banquet.
But as I recognized that few in Beijing, or China for that matter, would be raising their glasses on the fourth Thursday of November for this feast, it got me thinking — is it really the holidays if you’re the only one celebrating in your community? What exactly is it that makes a holiday a true holiday when you don’t have the momentum of an entire nation behind you, along with all the holiday trappings in stores?
Here’s what I think, in the wake of my Thanksgiving experience.
What makes a holiday is ultimately the effort and care you put into it. And holidays can exist even just one small apartment in an entire complex, and still be holidays. It’s all about the love you bring to the day — and sharing that love with the people who matter most to you, whoever they might be.
Yes, my modest Thanksgiving feast could never possibly replicate those traditional dinners at my aunt and uncle’s place, or the ways we used to entertain the whole family at my childhood home. But it had the most important ingredient of all, which left everyone at the table feeling satisfied: heart.
Wishing everyone out there a happy holiday season!
What do you think?