A Thanksgiving Adventure

I got to my host family’s house at about 9:30 in the morning on Thanksgiving. I had told my host mom a couple weeks before that I wanted to make Thanksgiving dinner for the entire extended host family. I really wanted to have them over to my house, because none of them had been there before, but was actually quite relieved when she suggested that I do it at her house. I have 4 plates, one large pot, and a small oven, so feeding around 20 people at my house would have been logistically complicated.

In the two weeks before Thanksgiving I discussed with my host family what to do about turkey. Sometimes the chicken guys in town have turkey, but since I wanted a largish one Saadia suggested I go pick it up in the nearest city, 2 hours away. She also suggested that when I go to this city, 2 hours away, I buy a live turkey, put it in a box with holes and then in the back of a taxi to bring back to town. I think my face adequately displayed my concerns with this plan, so she modified it, saying that her husband would get someone to bring a live turkey for me. So with the procuring of the turkey taken care of, I focused on shopping for everything else. Mom sent me some creamed corn to make her corn muffins, my friend brought some brown sugar, and just about everything else I wanted, except sage, was relatively easy to acquire.

I arrived laden with groceries to my host family’s house. I saw my host mother in front of her mother’s on my way up and she said to me something along the lines of “You’re gonna be scared.” “Of what?” I asked. “The animal,” she replied. I thought this was perhaps in reference to a wild boar incident (they come out at night in around town and occasionally do damage), or a goat being attacked by a dog (the week before on of their goats was attacked) or something of the like. However, when I reached her house and went in the kitchen, it became evident she was referring to the turkey. It was enormous. Comically large. I liken it to about three of my heads. It weighed 21.5 kilos, 47 pounds. Fortunately, we had asked the butcher to take care of the killing and de-feathering, otherwise I think we probably would have had to postpone Thanksgiving. I was still a bit nervous about how I could possibly cook the bird. It would never fit in the oven whole, and even if it could, it would never cook all the way, so we had to take it apart. We broke one knife attempting just that and then moved onto the hatchet. We chopped it in half and then in half again, deciding that 2 quarters would be enough to feed everyone. I set them in a laundry bucket to brine, broke down the other half of the turkey for freezing, and started on the rest of the meal.

I made two kinds of corn bread, stuffing, mashed potatoes, baked sweet potatoes and apples, gravy and apple cider. A few Americans helped me out and also took care of the green beans and apple crisp for dessert. In the end most of the host family came, along with a group of kids that my host mother tutors in the evenings and a few others. There were about 25 people in all. I made everyone go around and say what they were thankful for and then made everyone eat off of their own plate. My host mother scared all her sisters-in-law by telling them that they would get no food unless they ate with a knife and fork, but there were not nearly enough forks to go around, so we stuck with individual plates and whatever utensil you could get your hands on. It was a long and tiring day, but everyone seemed to enjoy it. It was a wonderful chance to share part of America with my Moroccan family and it tasted like real Thanksgiving. Adding my Moroccan family to my American family just about quadruples the size of my family, and despite awkward moments and language barriers, I really do feel a part of the family. And now I have a freezer full of turkey to last me the next year.