The animals were already feasting—the alpacas on a fresh bale of hay, the chickens on vegetable scraps from my cooking. It was 3:30 and I still wore a hoodie and leggings, no makeup, hair in a messy bun. The table was set, but I was putting the finishing touches on the Thanksgiving dinner we would not host after all.
Hours earlier, our toddler and I made a pair of hand turkeys to put in the centerpiece. I attached them to straws, and she danced around the kitchen in snuggly pajamas she picked herself and therefore never wanted to take off. She was on the rebound from an illness that had disrupted our sleep for the previous week, and Julio and I were happy to see her energy restored, even if ours lagged a bit.
We live far from our families, and given the expense and how close Thanksgiving and Christmas are on the calendar, when we got married, Julio and I decided that we would never travel home for Thanksgiving. As our daughter has grown more aware of traditions and holidays, however, we wanted to do something so that she could create childhood memories. Last year, we decided to host a modest Friendsgiving dinner. My cousin Grace moved to Denver, so we invited her; her boyfriend, Jesús; and our friends Rachele and Scott. Six adults and a high chair felt like a cozy crowd and the upper limit of what our dining room table could seat.
While Julio tried to get the toddler interested in watching the parade, I started cooking. Rachele and Scott had been sick all week and by mid-morning, they decided they were still not well enough to come over. I pulled two plates from the table and kept cooking. Mid-afternoon, Grace let me know she had a bit of a cough.
Maybe we would have been fine, but one look at Julio’s face when I relayed the message let me know dinner was off. Our child was born during the summer of 2020, I have autoimmune issues, and Julio had just experienced the return of his childhood asthma. We had dodged the virus thus far, but the recent toddler illness had wiped us out. We were unsure how many more feverish nights we could take.
I pulled out the foil and a stash of takeout containers and we packed Friendsgiving up for delivery. While I did the dishes, Julio drove around the metro, taking the meals to our friends and cousins. It was not the evening we planned, but at least I got to stay in my hoodie. As my daughter played with the hand turkeys again, I snapped a photo of the decorated but empty table, a reminder that plans can fall apart without emotional fallout. We had food, friends, and family. That was enough, especially for someone who does not even like Thanksgiving.
So, this Thanksgiving, we’re doing a rerun. Same meal. Same people. Hopefully at the same table this time. I am trying my best not to turn into Monica Geller.
We are vegetarians, but I would argue that for many people, the sides are the real stars of the Thanksgiving meal anyway. So our tradition is to have a feast of only side dishes. The centerpiece is a Tuscan-inspired stuffing that includes goat cheese and sundried tomatoes (the recipe has disappeared from the internet, but I memorized it first). I also make a big batch of mashed potatoes with caramelized onions and usually most of the following vegan and vegetarian appetizers and sides.
This year I am also making a big batch of wassail, a traditional holiday drink for my family, and one of the beverages Julio and I served (spiked or not) at our wedding. I do not have a big percolator like my mother and grandmother, so I hope it comes together in a crock pot.
Once the dishes are done (and the daughter is in bed), we watch classic Thanksgiving TV episodes. When we were first married, Julio and I ran a tournament of Ultimate Thanksgiving Episodes with our friends voting to determine how shows moved through the bracket. The winner was The West Wing, “Indians in the Lobby,” which narrowly beat out The West Wing’s “Shibboleth.” I enjoy revisiting those two episodes and crying into leftover potatoes each year, but for me, the top comedy episodes are: How I Met Your Mother, “Slapsgiving”; Friends, “The One with All the Thanksgivings”; Don’t Trust the B– in Apartment 23, “Its a Miracle”; and Gilmore Girls, “Deep Fried Korean Thanksgiving.”
Happy Thanksgiving from Sol Homestead! What is your favorite tradition? Tell me in the comments.
Thank you sweet girl. Love you forever!❤️
What a great blog. It sounds like you have these recipes under control.
Papa & I are heading to CA. I’m not sure how this is going to go. We both require wheel chairs, & we are both apprehensive about traveling.
Enjoy your Thanksgiving, & we are sending hugs to all of you.