Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving, readers. A bout of laryngitis keeps me from talking (or enjoying food) today, but the pie is baked, the turkey brined, and the potatoes about to be peeled. The show must go on, for our kids' sake. They LOVE tradition.

My husband will roast a small heirloom turkey from the farmers' market. Our son will make his traditional cranberry sauce with candied ginger. Our daughter will mash the potatoes and set the table with our fancy dishes. I'll make green beans with shallots and mushrooms. Together, at some magical hour this afternoon, we will light the beeswax tapers, sit down and smile at each other. Take in the beauty and abundance. Reflect on our good fortune.

Itadakimasu, we'll say. Japanese for "I humbly receive."

Growing up in the OALC, we never gave thanks at meals. Sometimes, the men would begin eating as soon as they were seated, and the women, who had labored -- for hours or days -- preparing the food, would wait until after the men and children were done, and eat whatever was left. Perhaps this practice dates from farming life, with men coming in from the fields for dinner and going right back out again. Also, in huge families, there is not always room to sit together at one table.

But still. It bugged me.

Fortunately, as adults we can start new traditions. And keep tweaking them.

This year, there is cornbread in the stuffing and the pie is made from a weird, bumpy heirloom squash. Our conversation will be seasoned with Japanese and French because the kids are studying those languages.

Whatever the words, we will acknowledge the food, the farmers who grew it, the earth, rain, sun, air, the family and friends, everything that sustain us. Including this blog and the wonderful people here.

For this I whisper my thanks.