Aunt Linda and the Round-Table of Food
With each holiday that comes and goes there are certain events that stick out most in my mind, most of which consist of the conversations around the round cherry wood table that rests in my Aunt Linda’s kitchen. Now I love my Aunt Linda, don’t get me wrong, but this womans’ personality and house act as a perfect biosphere to start every controversial conversation I have ever heard in my family. The day starts off by myself and my parents walking in through the porch door to be greeted by my aunt Linda, uncle Frankie and cousins. Aunt Linda is wandering around the kitchen preparing atleast 3 times a s much food that is needed to feed the nine of us that will be sitting down for the Turkey dinner, since it is Thanksgiving after all. The smell of delicious food has put many of us in a sluggish trance, but we find our way to a seat somewhere around the large table now taking of part of the kitchen and the dining room. As the food is all set out onto the table and our eyes become far larger than our stomach we pile the food onto our plates and dig in. Now is it too much to ask to have a pleasant conversation as we enjoy each other’s company, you beat your ass it is.
I am the first one to begin the conversation; I start off with something that is light on controversy because I just want to get the social interaction ball rolling. It only takes seconds before my question of how the weather has been lately to escalate into whether or not global warming is caused by emissions from cars and factories or if Al Gore himself is using massive flamethrowers to melt the ice caps. In such a situation I usually revert back to trying to eat some more, perhaps the digestion will hep to pass the time; nope wrong again. My father and cousin Elliot manage to bicker back and forth over who is right and who knows more, and then Pam opens her mouth to somehow bring up the subject that has no relevance to global warming. Pam wants to talk about how she thinks taking toilet paper from Wal-Mart’s’ bathroom is perfectly fine. We all give a dumbfounded look and plead her to go on with our new topic of discussion. Pam claims that if Wal-Mart cared enough about it’s toilet paper they would lock it up. Then all hell breaks loose, my dad is yelling across the table insulting Pam while he manages to gobble down some turkey and cranberry sauce, and Pam is squealing back in retaliation. Soon enough the meal that is on the table is forgotten in favor prosecution and defense. These subjects may seem outlandish, but the truth of the matter is if it isn’t one crazy topic it would be another.
No matter what holiday it is, if we are gathered at my Aunt Linda’s house for a meal we are guaranteed to have ourselves and enjoyable time. Mind you the conversations that form over our delicious meals may be crazy, but this is what the family enjoys. We all have very differing viewpoints, but it seems that for some unknown reason unless there is food on the table we can possibly have these conversations. We take comfort in the idea that if our opinion is shot down, we can still comfort ourselves with the food on our plate. In reality the debates can elevate to a very boisterous and intense level, but we always have that last piece of cake or stuffing to inhale if we need some time to gather our thoughts for retaliation. Yes I think the food on the table acts as somewhat of a distraction to diffuse a situation before someone actually gets hurt. There are some conversations of farts in a jar on ebay, and our summer trips to the shore that can never be repeated, but they are all true and I wouldn’t trade a single one of them for anything in the world. Seriously who can pass up a free dinner and a show?
(Christine Hunt, 1 December 2008)
A Welcome, Rare Turkey Moment
To me, the amazing part of Thanksgiving is the way that food can bring people together in a way that no other thing can. The very idea that simple food can bring together a family still blows my mind. I know that at my house, the week of Thanksgiving is always pretty hectic. There is a lot of prep work that goes into Thanksgiving lunch and so stress levels are high and there’s always several check lists that need done. It is a strategic, well thought out, and very practiced, tactical Endeavour. It is like a well-oiled machine or a calculated military mission.
However, for all the stress that comes with the preparation of this particular meal comes a sense of relief. Not only for when the task is finally done, but because when we all sit down to eat all that stress instantly melts away. The pains that it took to get to the table seems to blend into the background and the only important thing is the fact that my family is together, enjoying ourselves over some traditional and satisfying food.
The best part of the meal is the storytelling. The stories have been told countless times, they never change, but with each telling the memories and good times come flooding back. It is a time to reminisce and remember all the fun times we’ve shared together as a family – because that is the point of Thanksgiving. This part of the meal is especially important to me because it is a very rare occasion when all my family is together. My brother being in the military means that he doesn’t get to have time off for every holiday, so when he is home we cherish the time together. This unsure schedule makes it so that we don’t always celebrate Thanksgiving on the actual day, but rather when he is available. That to me is the essence of the holiday. It isn’t necessarily about celebrating on the exact date, but rather the idea of being together with people you love and sharing the time together. I honestly believe that should be the point of Thanksgiving.
And what’s the catalyst that brings a family together? Food. No other holiday is solely based around food and the idea of its power to bring people together. It is a time when the focus isn’t on the stresses of life but rather just enjoying one another’s company and sharing how we truly feel about each other. There is a sense of openness and caring when everyone sits around a table laughing and talking.
(Brenna McPheron, 1 December 2008)
The Magic of Food
As I waited in line to board the bus to go home for Thanksgiving, my friend Elise stopped and chatted with me for a while. A fellow Chinese-American, she asked the mandatory question of whether my family eats turkey or “hot pot” during Thanksgiving. Chuckling at how this question’s frequency has increased over the years, I understandingly responded with the latter choice.
On the fourth Thursday of every November, Americans all over the world gather in a celebration of thanksgiving and gratitude. Norman Rockwell depicted such a holiday best in his painting, “Freedom from Want,” which shows an elderly couple serving a plump turkey to a table of happy relatives, who range from young to old. Thanksgiving is a time that families can forget about their stresses that have built up over the year; it is a time that people can loosen their ties and relax; it is a time when families can reunite and fill houses with warmth and laughter during the cold year-end season. And when a large amount of people get together, there is bound to be a large amount of food! The holiday is widely associated with a large feast that features a turkey as the centerpiece. It is a time when adults throw their diets out the car window while children count down the hours until they can enjoy grandma’s famous stuffing. Thanksgiving is a time to give thanks for all the blessings in our lives.
Ever since elementary school, we have been conditioned to associate Thanksgiving with turkey, but growing up in two cultures, I have learned about how interchangeable turkey is with hot pot on this American holiday. Hot pot is when raw slices of meat, seafood, and vegetables are dipped into a “hot pot” of boiling water at the center of the table until cooked, and then eaten with various sauces. The first couple times I tried explaining such a concept to my non-Asian friends, they came to the conclusion that it was the same thing as fondue. After all, it is when you dip food into a pot in the middle of the table before eating it! It wasn’t until later that I realized “Chinese fondue” is actually a less common name for hot pot! It is usually eaten any time during the winter, with a large group of people.
Upon my arrival at home, however, I quickly learned that we were going to have turkey this year! Filled with excitement, I watched as my mom prepared the turkey. It took many hours, but I guess that’s the price one has to pay to enjoy a truly-American feast! Because my relatives all live in Texas and we couldn’t make it down there this year, we had family friends over instead. It’s interesting to see how much food affects people’s moods, because every single person that walked into our house wore a giant smile on his or her face! The shared anticipation of partaking in a delicious meal seemed to rid everyone of their worries and really brought us all together. Laughter filled the corners of our house and even the quietest people opened their mouths to share their blessings! We all expressed our thanks for one another in some way, be it preparing the food, serving the food, pouring the cider, or cleaning up afterwards, and everyone left our house more filled than when they came – both in their stomachs and hearts.
By default, it seems that holidays are associated with family and family gatherings are associated with food. Food just has the magical effect of lightening spirits and drawing people together, no matter what kind of culture.
(Sang-Ching Lintakoon, 1 December 2008)
Once Upon A Thanksgiving
Nothing brings the family together like food, but even that has stopped working. It’s been a long time since we all got together, no one makes time anymore. This Thanksgiving would be different. Everyone was going to come to our house to enjoy an immense amount of food that my mom was making. Everything was in the works, she was going to make mashed potatoes, corn, green beans, filling, carrots, sweet potatoes, biscuits, and of course, the huge turkey that she had somehow crammed into the oven. Things seemed to be going well, no one had canceled (yet), and the house smelled divine. And then it happened, just when I thought it might be an enjoyable Thanksgiving, at least as enjoyable as it could be when everyone pretends to be happy and care about one another, the phone rang. It was my aunt, when I picked up the phone she sounded too happy and sweet, and I knew that this was the part where something would go wrong. “Hello Aunt Carla, how are you today? We’re looking forward to seeing you for dinner at five.” “Oh, hi there, actually, that’s why I called, your Uncle’s sister came up for Thanksgiving today, and she’d rather not have to go anywhere today, so we’ve decided to have Thanksgiving here. I talked to the rest of the family, and they don’t mind. I have a turkey going in the oven, so if you guys could just bring…” At that point I stopped listening. This sort of thing always happened, and we were always the last ones to get the news. My mom could tell something was wrong, and she just set her knife down and looked at me. She had spent the previous day cleaning the house top to bottom and making sure that she had everything for the meal. It had taken a week and a half to thaw the bird which was now baking in the oven to be ready at 5pm when the family would be here to eat it. I heard my aunt say she had to go and she was sure that if we had already started the turkey we could just heat it up later in the week and then she hung up. I held the phone a little longer, stunned. I didn’t have to say much to convey the conversation to my mom, I had always worn my expressions on my face, and that day was no different. I said, “That was Carla…” “I guess they aren’t coming,” she cut in. “Not just them...” I managed to say before she walked into the living room and sat down. I heard my grandmother from the other room calling my name; I walked out to her room and saw she was wearing her autumn sweater and leaf earrings. She asked me if I could get her a bottle of water to take her pills and said she was excited to have the food mom was making. I didn’t tell her about the phone call and just went to get her some water, when I went into the kitchen my mom had resumed cooking, she looked sad, but it was almost as if she had been expecting such a phone call. I vaguely remembered my aunt saying that we could bring my grandmother along with us (she was my mom’s mother and the family who we were to have Thanksgiving with was my dad’s side). I managed to tell my mom this and she nearly lost it. My grandmother needed to have a handicap accessible bathroom, and we had installed one for her when she moved in with us, but there was no way that she could even get into my aunt’s house, let alone use the bathroom. When my dad heard about the phone call and his family’s decision, he seemed angry and disappointed all at once. This wasn’t the first time it had happened, and we all knew it wouldn’t be the last. The phone rang again, this time my dad answered, “Hello…oh hi mom…we’re fine…no we aren’t going to Carla’s…no that’s ok…we’ve already got everything going…well we’ll see you another time then…ok…bye.” I didn’t know what had happened, when I was little things seemed different; it seemed like the family actually loved each other, but I guess I was just too young to get it. The family had issues, I know everyone does, but I thought that we could set them aside and just enjoy ourselves. Who was I kidding? I made a point of helping my mom more than usual that day, I could tell she was upset, we had so much extra food, though, come to think of it, even if she knew the rest of the family wasn’t coming, she still would have made the same amount of food. As 5pm neared, the mood in the house started to change. It had begun to snow outside, and I had instinctively started to sing a Christmas song, “Can you hear it? The sound of peace on earth, it’s the song of Christmas, celebrate his birth…” My mom joined in, she couldn’t remember all the words, but she was close enough. When my sister came in, she started singing too. “It’s the most wonderful time of the year, with the kids jingle belling and everyone telling you, be of good cheer…” The phone rang again, by that time I had forgotten what had happened a few hours earlier, and with my mom, sister, and even my grandmother singing in the background I answered the phone. “Hello!” “Hi, Aeryn. How are you?” “Oh hey Caroline, I am wonderful. What are you and Henry doing? I thought you were going to your son’s house for Thanksgiving.” “We were supposed to, but something came up, so we’re home.” “Well, why don’t you guys come here? Long story but nobody is coming, and you know you two are always welcome.” I should explain that Caroline and Henry had been our neighbors since I was little, and my sister and I had become good friends with them. I heard Caroline ask Henry if he’d like to have Thanksgiving with us, and he said sure. I told them to come up by five and we’d be ready to eat. I’m not at all certain how the evening went at my aunt’s house, but that was the best Thanksgiving I can remember. It looked like my grandmother was having a contest with Henry to see who could dump the most food on their lap, and there were so many leftovers that we had turkey and filling for another week and a half, but the food had brought together the people that we cared about the most, and those that we knew cared about us. There were no fake smiles that night, and no one cared to judge what anyone else was doing, we just had fun and I can’t remember laughing so hard in all my life. What had looked like a bad day had turned wonderful with a little snow, a little singing, and some good friends to share dinner with.
(Elizabeth Mertz, 1 December 2008)The Zheng’s Thanksgiving Week
“Food, and New York City,” was all I could think about during the Thanksgiving week. Once I got on the bus ready to head home, I cannot wait to see my family, but most of all to enjoy my Thanksgiving. I cannot wait to gobble down the juicy turkey and all the delicious side. I could picture in my mind that Thanksgiving will be great this year. But, I was wrong. Every story had its conflict and mine would soon come, when it approaches Thanksgiving.
I enjoyed my weekend and Monday, but on Tuesday, I asked my mom for the plan for Thursday. “We will be going to New York City,” she said. In the back of my mind, I keep saying, “Yes.” “Then are we going to eat in a fancy restaurant, ordering a turkey, potatoes, and stuffing?” I asked. “No, we are just going to a normal Chinese restaurant. If it makes you feel better, we could order a duck because Chinese restaurant does not sell turkey,” she replied. Instantaneously after those words, I felt like I was hit by a thousand turkey legs. “What! What do you mean we would not get to eat turkey? Didn’t we plan this ever since last year?” She replied, “Well yea, but our plan has changed. Two of your uncles and their families are going to eat with us and they prefer Chinese.” This time, I screamed like I was ten years old. “Since when did my family and relatives become so racist? What’s wrong eating turkey and other American foods?” “They are not racist. They just don’t like turkey. They also come a long way to New York and they finally want to eat something they like.” After that, our conversation was over and it ruined my Tuesday and Wednesday.
“Finally, it’s Thursday, yea. In case you didn’t notice, I was being sarcastic.” I told my mom. She didn’t reply. We were in the car going to New York City. I don’t feel like shopping and I am not in the mood for anything fun when we arrived in China Town. I can’t help but I keep thinking about how terrible my Thanksgiving Day is. I looked around town and tried to enjoy myself. I went to my favorite Vietnamese restaurant and eat all that I can.
Its dinner time, so we meet up with my uncles and their families. All me cousins have grown so much taller than the last time I saw them. I was glad to see them again. We all walk to the Chinese restaurant and asked for table for twelve. Here I am, sitting with my family and relatives with duck and other Chinese food on the table. Everyone seems to enjoy the food. I just sat there and watched them eat. Then, I have a plan, to enjoy my last Thanksgiving hours. I decided to do something surprising. I want them all to watch me eat instead. So, I jumped up and reach for the duck, which is in the center. I grabbed the whole duck and sat down. Everyone just stared at me in astonishment while I gobbled up the whole duck by myself. Looks like Thanksgiving went by quite well.
(Xiao Yezheng, 1 December 2008)
The Sounds of Chu
When it comes to eating in my family, I would consider it something that defines us as a family. Even though it has become more common for families to dine on their own nowadays, we still try to share our meals with each other as often as possible. At the dinner table is where we share our funny stories, the people who annoyed us that day, our good news and those are the ways of how we stay connected in each other’s lives. We are family after all, not just people who live under the same roof. In my family, we are all different types of “eaters.” What do I mean by that? I will explain how each one of my family member work their way through their plates.
My father, who I call a “swoosh” eater, he makes a “swoosh” sound almost every bite he takes. This would make sense if he was eating a bowl of noodles, spaghetti, or even soup. But this man even makes the “swoosh” sound when he eats meat, don’t ask me how that is possible, but you just have to see him in action. Steak, vegetables, even ice cream. “Swoosh, swoosh, and swoosh.” It’s annoying, but that’s what makes him- him. Without the festive sound, the dinner table would not be the same even though the noise does get on my nerves at times and is especially embarrassing in public.
My sister is a “fast and greedy” eater. She wolfs down everything on her plate as fast as she can that sometimes I think she doesn’t even really taste or chew on them. She picks the food up with her fork then less than a second, it’s in her mouth. Another second, I see her swallowing it down her throat, and then it’s gone forever. Repeated steps of this and 5 minutes later her plate is empty and then the greedy part comes in. After the 5 minutes of intense food swallowing (not food chewing/eating), she then eyes everybody else’s plates. She scans her parameters, then she spots the ones she wants then she looks at you with her puppy eyes and somehow convinces you to give your food to her.
Me on the other hand, I would like to call myself a “steady and dangerous” eater. After sitting down at the table, I look around carefully at all the dishes – what would taste well with what, what I would like to eat first, what I would like to eat more or less. I’m a quite cautious eater come to think about it. I pace myself during the meal, savoring each bite and each taste. After all, eating is for the taste isn’t it? However, this does give me a problem in the end – I always end up eating so much! By eating bit by bit, I get full slower, which makes me put more and more food on the plate, consequently a little weight on as well! I guess there are pros and cons in all types of eating styles.
My mother, on the other hand, is quite boring compared to the rest of us. She sits there and uses her utensils elegantly, barely making any noises (so from the “swoosh”) that I used to think it was an act and then I realized it probably was not after 20 years of her table manners. However, she does have this little thing that she does that I call the “eyeing” trick. After the table is set and everyone has arrived with plates full of her food, she anxiously awaits everyone to take their first bites. She then steals looks of our faces from the corner of her eye for approval, once she gets it, she will start working on her plate.
(Victoria Chu, 1 December 2008)
