Thanksgiving

The Champ. Propped shut.

Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving is the best holiday. We cook up a storm, we gather together, we feel thankful. My mom makes her famous pumpkin cheesecake. What's not to love?

Thanksgiving is, I think, one of the most American things on the planet. Spaniards have seen it all through a glass screen in some way or another  - the Thanksgiving episodes on Friends, in movies, and in books, but they don't understand any of it. They are both fascinated and mystified.

Why the turkey? (It's delicious).

Does everyone eat a turkey? (Yes.)

Who do you say thank you to and why? (Everyone. Because it's that time of year.)

Anyway, last year here in Málaga my friend Claire brought down the house with a full-on Thanksgiving dinner.  This year I am happy to report that she outdid herself. We invited some people, she invited some people, and together there were fifteen of us. Three of us were Americans - Claire, The Mister and me - which basically meant that we invited twelve people to dinner who were deeply skeptical of the concept of a pie (or any dessert for that matter) made out of pumpkin. And I was in charge of dessert.

The night went off without a hitch though, despite it raining cats and dogs, which is somewhat of a Málaga Thanksgiving tradition. Claire looked all over town to find a whole turkey to roast, finally finding one at her corner butcher, who was really curious to know what a tiny blonde girl would want in a turkey as big as she is. Then--stop drinking your coffee here lest you spew it all over your computer screen--she roasted it in her toaster oven. Because she doesn't have an actual oven. And it turned out beautifully. She not only roasted a turkey in a toaster oven, she successfully roasted a turkey in a toaster oven. If that doesn't merit applause, well then I don't know what does.

She also make green bean casserole (no French's fried onions or cream of mushroom soup here in España, ladies and gents. We are talking mixing flour and milk to make a creamy mushroom sauce, frying the onions in oil until crispy, et cetera), stuffing from scratch (two kinds!), mashed potatoes, carrots in honey butter, macaroni and cheese, and gravy from the turkey drippings.

Once the Spaniards were certain they weren't going to be hungry again for a week, we brought out dessert, which was my domain. I made two pumpkin pies (no canned pumpkin or ready-made pie crusts available in Spain, so I bought and carved pumpkins, scooped out the flesh, and rolled out pie dough. For full context, that is usually not my scene.), apple pie and a dulce de leche cake with browned butter cream cheese cinnamon frosting. The latter is not exactly Thanksgiving-y, but we were the only ones that knew that and I was in the baking zone.

The Spaniards loved the meal, although they were divided on the cranberry sauce. They swooned over the desserts, and I'm happy to report that we had about a 100% conversion rate from the pumpkin-in-pie?-that-is-disgusting-who-are-you-people category to the oh-geez-that-was-delicious-fine-I-take-it-back team. During the meal we all went around and said something we were thankful for, and it felt so odd, so American and homey, to be sitting around a table with friends saying things we're thankful for, and yet so foreign because nobody was speaking English and it was only comfort food to the three of us Americans.

I sadly don't really have good photos of the night to share. I was sous chef number one for a fifteen-person dinner party and frankly I didn't have the hands to spare, so I didn't take any of the following pictures, but they were on my camera in the morning:

The partial spread at some early phase of cooking.

The Mister carving the turkey. He had a ring of people around him like paparazzi at a movie premiere, and they were all taking pictures. It was awesome. It's a real live American! Cutting a Thanksgiving turkey! I'm telling my grandkids that I saw this!

Claire and I in full-on preparation mode. And by that I mean that we have forks in hand, a beer on the counter and a pot that looks like it's about to boil over. Looks about right.