You probably remember the grade school story about how
the Pilgrims celebrated their first Thanksgiving with the American
Indians. I have a dim memory of black hats, buckled shoes, bonnets,
and feathered turkeys made of orange and brown construction paper.
Our costumed skit portrayed a story of Native Americans who taught
the English Pilgrims how to find and grow food to survive.
All through the gathering and preparation of the food,
the two cultures managed to communicate enough to provide a bounty
of edible food; that momentous first Thanksgiving. But when they
sat down together to give thanks before consuming this celebratory
meal, the Puritans thanked one God. I imagine something got lost
in the translation. The indians would have thanked the spirit
of the foods.
By honoring the source of their nourishment - the yellow
squash, the life of the tender turkey, the earthy potato, or the
tart cranberry - the Indians keep their connection with life's
cycle. It seems to me that the albeit fervent monotheistic thanks
bypasses the "now" of food's glory.
Perhaps appreciating every food individually is too simplistic.
After all, food just comes from the earth: from a tree, from a
bush, from a root, from a sprout. It runs wild on the land, feeds
on grasses, wheat, or insects, growing through one or many seasons.
It grows rings for hundreds of years and remembers to bear nuts.
Food is created when the wind carries a seed to a receptive growing
place where it is nourished by rain and sun and warmth and frost.
When a bee, attracted to the glorious color, rubs its legs within
a flower that is nourished by the minerals in the soil, and the
rain, and the sun -- yes it certainly is a simple process -- that
creation thing.
Perhaps appreciating each food is redundant and time-consuming.
If it's all created by one source, then it's much simpler - and
all encompassing -- to thank that one source. Only . . . defining
and upholding this source is the basis for arguments, wars, and
vastly different cultures. People haven't agreed on this "one
source" since the One was proclaimed. And even if cultures
can agree to call it one name, it is referenced by the name for
a very close male relative, sexcluding the image of half of the
population.
Gratitude seems to be a bit more complex than it first
appears. I like silent thanks: it respects each person's method
of expression.
This Thanksgiving, I am thankful for the deep orange of
the sweet potatoes, with their super vitamins and achingly sweet
flavor juxtaposed with the exquisitely tart flavor of the vivid
cranberry. I am thankful for the meaty, chewy shitake with its
cancer and AIDS-fighting qualities and sensuous taste. I am thankful
that someone takes the time to farm, sow, and grind the grains
to sell to the good people who make delicious whole-grain bread
for my stuffing.
True, this thanking process can be a lengthy one. But something
synergistic happens as I detail this appreciation. The individual
recognition glorifies the miracle of all life forms - what you
might call the Source.
I've prepared three of my favorite Thanksgiving dishes
-- stuffing, sweet potatoes, and creamed onions -- in lower fat,
healthier versions with a twist of inspiration. The stuffing is
very quick to prepare, and the cranberry glazed sweet potatoes
have a lot of berries on top so that you can eat them with your
turkey and avoid the need for an additional cranberry dish. And
the usually decadent creamed onions use non-fat milk with less
butter, totaling a mere two grams of fat per portion. Enjoy!
Shitake Stuffing
Stuffs a 12-15 lb. turkey.
8 c. stale bread in large cubes
2 c. shitake mushrooms in bite size chucks
1 onion, diced
1-1/2 Tbsp. grapeseed oil (canola can be substituted)
1 Tbsp. tamari/soy sauce
2 tsp. cut and sifted sage
2 tsp. thyme
1/2 tsp. freshly ground pepper
Saute onion and shitakes in grapeseed oil until tender but not
fully cooked. Toss ingredients together. Mix well and stuff turkey.
Optional: If you plan a vegetarian meal, toss stuffing with 1/2
c. vegetable broth instead, and bake in shallow pan until browned.
Cranberry Glazed Sweet Potatoes
Serves 8.
6 sweet potatoes
1 c. cranberries carefully washed and sorted
3/4 c. cranberry juice cocktail (add 1-1/2 tsp. honey or brown
sugar if you use unsweetened cranberry juice)
1/3 c. orange juice
1 Tbsp. freshly grated orange zest
2 tsp. arrowroot
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
Wash, halve and steam sweet potatoes for about 25 minutes until
firmly tender. Cool and slip off skins. Slice and place artfully
into an eight-inch glass baking dish. Simmer cranberries in orange
juice until about half have popped. Combine cool cranberry juice
with arrowroot and cinnamon. Add to saucepan and stir until thickened.
Pour over the sweet potatoes. This can be made a day ahead. When
you're ready to heat the sweet potatoes, sprinkle the zest over
the top and warm until bubbly.
Three-Color Creamed Onions
Serves 8.
2 pints small white onions
1/2 leek (slice just the green half)
1/2 bermuda onion, sliced thinly in rings
1-1/2 c. non-fat milk, (can substitute soy or almond milk)
1-1/2 Tbsp. butter
1-1/2 Tbsp. flour
1/2 tsp. biosalt
1/4 tsp. freshly ground pepper
Peel and wash small onions under running water to prevent eyes
from tearing. Drop whole into boiling water and cook for 10 minutes
before adding the leeks for 10 more minutes. Drain, put in a serving
bowl, and immediately top with sliced bermuda onions so that they
can warm. Melt butter on low heat. Add flour, salt, and pepper,
stirring constantly until smooth. Remove from heat and stir in
milk. Return to heat and stir until thickened. Pour over onions,
garnish with a leek curled 'round a slice of bermuda and serve.
Before dinner, I'll give thanks for my precious family, for the
friends who extend love and expand perspective, and for the cultures
that make this world community so interesting, so unendingly rich.
Anya Wolfenden M.A. is a mother, writer, and Director of
Public Relations for The Heritage Store and Heritage (Edgar Cayce)
Products in Virginia Beach, VA. (757) 428-0100.