I sat yesterday around the table with family and friends. It was good to be with those people. And the weather was beautiful (in Tampa, Florida). It was quite easy, actually to feel gratitude all around me.
I know its un-American, or unpatriotic and there is always the fear that because of it, the terrorist will probably win something, but I really don't see what all the excitement is about with that food. Potatoes, squash, bread - all made with love, care and butter - but there isn't enough love or care or butter to transform that food into something that merits all the hooplah. The turkey and carrots I don't mind but hardly raise to the level of praise traditionally attributed to it.
As I sat there looking at that dinner, upon which everyone else feasted like a Renaissance Pope (with silverware, of course) I considered what might have happened if a fierce storm had blown the Mayflower off course and the Pilgrims had landed in Miami rather than Plymouth. Would there be shrimp and fish (snapper is nice this time of year) instead of turkey? Would there be beans and peas (oh wait, I do like the peas, nevermind that) instead of all those apparently indestructible root vegetables?
One day, I might end up in charge of Thanksgiving and dinner will be jerked fish with coconut rice, and a huge (because bigger salads are always better) salad with rum punch and desert will be fresh fruit and maybe crepes.
One storm away. Turkey sushi, anyone?
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