Hello everyone, it's Will again, here to give you a review of our Kiwi Thanksgiving while Beth works on her article.
There's our beautiful 18-pound turkey. Beth and Holly spent the last two days in the kitchen, making all the traditional American fare.
Beth making gravy - a sufficient and necessary condition for being my girlfriend.
At the end of the day we could all agree that it was a successful dinner party, and a good time was had by all. Little kids ran screaming through the house and family friends sat and chatted into the night over bottles of wine.
But for some reason we all had the feeling that it just didn't feel like the kind of Thanksgivings we have back home. On the one hand, the Kiwis were somewhat baffled by the food we had out for them - These are.. balls of mashed-up bread? And.. sweet potatoes, covered in marshmallows? Which aren't for dessert? Do you really put gravy on.. everything?
But more tellingly, there just wasn't that sense that we were doing Thanksgiving. You're supposed cook all day, eat way too much, then, as the Wongs will attest, "play beached whale." The difference between an American Thanksgiving and a dinner party has never been so clear to me.
Which isn't to say the Kiwis weren't wonderful guests. In fact, they were all exceptionally honored to be part of our traditional American holiday. At first, this sounds sort of comical. It's just Thanksgiving, after all. But really, in our culture's brief lifespan, no holiday is more rooted in our history than turkey day. We started doing this while we were still just a ragtag collection of starving colonists, scraping to survive in the great outdoors, indebted to the natives who saved our asses from certain death. And what's more American than that?