FROM THE THANKSGIVING ARCHIVES: FRANKLIN WAS RIGHT:

Turkey dinner crosses cultures (MARICEL E. PRESILLA, 11/18/04, Miami Herald)

I recall with startling clarity my first Thanksgiving dinner in the United States. It was 1970, and my family had been in Miami for only four months, staying with relatives. This was to be the first important family gathering in our own new home, a graceless, sparsely furnished old house in the city's southwest section.

I was heartbroken, in no mood to celebrate. The pain of leaving behind my beloved aunts, grandmother and boyfriend was compounded by the unfriendliness of our new neighborhood, an odd, sad place with few sidewalks where nobody seemed to walk.

Still, the golden turkeys of television commercials and magazine ads beckoned, reminding me of our traditional New Year's feasts back in Cuba. More poignantly, the story of the Mayflower Pilgrims began to resonate in my mind as a symbol of hope in the face of our own tribulations.

Like most newcomers to this country, we turned Thanksgiving into our own hybrid feast. Used to our own homegrown turkeys, we succumbed to the easy charm of a plump-breasted Butterball bird, which we dutifully defrosted and marinated Cuban-style with plenty of garlic and bitter orange (naranja agria) juice.

Instead of braising the turkey in a large cauldron as we had done back home, we roasted it in the oven. We served it with congr�, the rice and red kidney bean dish traditional to my hometown of Santiago de Cuba, plus canned yams and cranberry sauce -- concessions to what we considered true Thanksgiving fare that also satisfied our Cuban penchant for mixing sweet and sour flavors.

Teary-eyed, we toasted our good fortune and those we had left behind. I felt a surge of gratitude for the roof over my head, and, for the first time since our arrival, my mood lightened with a real sense of optimism. That same night, as we cleared the table, we got news that the man who is now my husband had managed to swim across Guantanamo Bay to the U.S. Naval base and freedom.

Since that day, Thanksgiving has symbolized crossover and arrival for my husband and me. Wherever we happen to be, we gather with family or friends for a heartfelt feast. The canned stuff of old has been replaced by fresh sweet potatoes and cranberries, but our menu continues to be a paean to the best of two worlds, with foods rooted in history and tradition.

My feast is always anchored by turkey, the only important domestic animal of pre-Columbian Mexico and Central America and the sine qua non of the American Thanksgiving table since the 19th century.

(originally posted: November 25, 2004)

Posted by oj at November 22, 2012 12:00 AM
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