My version of “Thanksgiving.”
Food unites us in so many ways and can act as a bridge between us and our ancestors. It connects us with various backgrounds and allows us to experience cultures using the five senses.
I grew up eating a wide array of different cuisines. My mother was born in Suva, Fiji, and her maternal grandfather was from Bihar, India.
In contrast, my father is German-Canadian; his parents were born and raised in Germany, and he, in Richmond, B.C. His maternal side is German to the core, but his paternal Oma and Opa were German-Alsatian and Polish, respectively. His Oma’s father was born in the Basque country in the South of France.
It wasn’t until this summer that I truly began to feel connected with the European side of my family. My parents and I went on a Rhine river cruise where the food served was typically associated with the regions we were visiting in France and Germany. The chef even made a German-themed lunch one day, with schnitzel, bratwurst, spätzle, to name a few.
It was nice seeing my dad embracing the culture he comes from, and I started calling him “German Erwin” as a joke. It was bittersweet seeing him immersing himself in his German background. It’s an added bonus that “German” rhymes with his name.
Between the food, the language, and the country overall, experiencing those things opened up a totally new side to him that I’d never seen before. It might’ve helped him heal a bit, too.
Indian food is something that I cook whenever I can, but I’ve never tried my hand at anything from my European side. So, I thought I’d challenge myself and make a Thanksgiving meal with five different dishes, each representing a country that my (known) ancestors are from.
The concept of being thankful for what you have at Thanksgiving is great, but I found this to be a unique and personal way to show gratitude to my ancestors and commemorate the places I come from.
Thus, I set out to curate my array of dishes, trying to keep it to ingredients that I’d typically buy for myself. The only things I splurged on were a huge can of Germany-imported sauerkraut, and Emmentaler cheese, which reeked to the high heavens.
Growing up, I’d seen my dad order jägerschnitzel (breaded pork cutlet) whenever it was an option on a menu, especially at German restaurants, so I settled on a German Jägerschnitzel with mushroom gravy and mashed potatoes as an entree. The biggest challenge was dehydrating a porcini mushroom in my oven — it took forever and shrank to about one third of its original size, which was such a disappointment.
My boyfriend, and both our moms (via phone), helped me make samosas, which actually turned out super good. Sadly, we ate all but two the day before the rest of the food.
I made a Polish Paszteciki z Kapustą i z Grzybami (sauerkraut and mushroom pies), and along with that was an Alsacian Flammkuchen, which is essentially a flatbread with creme fraiche, bacon, onions, and cheese. For dessert, I made some mini Basque cakes with a jam filling.
I’d definitely say that this was a huge success. I think that it was therapeutic in a way, especially since all of the dishes turned out quite well considering it was my first time making all five of them.
I felt oddly at home this summer, travelling in and around Germany. Together, that trip and this meal allowed me to forge a connection I didn’t even know could exist.
