A German Thanksgiving

The silverware was set, the candles were lit, and the turkey, sitting plump in the middle of the makeshift banquet table, was gazed upon by all. What sounds like a typical moment of American Thanksgiving was contrasted sharply by the murmur of voices in German.

I woke up early Thanksgiving morning. Really, it was the day after Thanksgiving, but for me and my host family, it was our Thanksgiving. Over the last few weeks, my host family and I had been planning an American Thanksgiving dinner.

 It started out back in the summer, before I was even packed to leave for Germany. I told my mom I wanted to cook Thanksgiving dinner while on my yearlong scholarship in Germany. While I have no clue why, she thought I couldn’t do it! Her reasoning was that I couldn’t heat canned soup by myself,  and I’ve never cooked anything for real in my life. I am a firm believer of trying- even if you’ve never done anything like what you’re attempting. Against my mom’s doubt, I set out to Germany with a plan to make an amazing feast.

Now, I should make it clear that my mom was absolutely in the right to doubt me. The last thing I did with a stove was leave the gas on all night long and almost blew up our house. Naturally, I didn’t tell my host family about this.

My host family and I started getting ready early in November. What started out as a planned small American style dinner quickly grew into a massive fest with 20+ guests who would be coming. With the help of my host mother, we spent evenings practicing baking and cooking American recipes. It’s hard to convert grams to ounces just right! Although this was a lot of work, we enjoyed trying dishes and our menu began to take shape. My host parents wanted to tweak many of the dishes. For example, we added curry into the sweet potato casserole. The following was what we served:

Turkey 

Stuffing

Mashed Potatoes

Gravy

Cranberry sauce

Grilled vegetables 

Sweet potato casserole 

Yeast roles 

Corn pudding

Vegan turkey (for the host sister)

Chocolate cookies

Pumpkin pie

Pecan Pie

All of this was totally homemade, as German grocery stores are not equipped for this American holiday. Nor are they aware of this holiday. Five days before our feast, my host mom found out that the butcher, for whatever reason, disregarded the fact that we ordered our turkey for November, and instead sought to have it arrive in time for Christmas. Panic filled the air as a month of preparation was put at risk, not to mention we had over twenty people planning on coming. While I am not entirely sure how ( I’d have to guess that my host mother’s strong personality helped) the turkey arrived promptly on time. As I came home from school the night before our party, I was greeted by a twenty-pound turkey thawing on the counter.

I guess turkeys are not too common to eat over here. I’ve never seen people so in awe like I saw Germans gazing at that turkey.

We planned to have our party the Friday after Thanksgiving, since Thursday (US Thanksgiving) naturally isn’t a holiday over here, and people had to work and go to school. The preparation started the night before, when we prepped many of the dishes. Since I can’t cook, my job was to peel the carrots. Working tirelessly, my hands were stained orange from slicing 40+ carrots. While German rap music blared over the sound of cranberries boiling, my whole host family and I worked well into the night. Finally, the casseroles and vegetables were all put away and we tiredly slipped into bed.

Our Thanksgiving morning began like any other day. My host parents insisted that I go to school. This made sense, as our party wasn’t going to start until seven at night. This made my host father responsible for stuffing and getting the turkey ready. I must say I was a little nervous for how this would go, but when I finally made it back home after a long school day (thankfully gym was canceled) the smell of roasting turkey greeted me.

The house was warm and the massive bird slowly roasting in the oven added excitement and savory smells to the air. After an hour of rest, my host dad appeared- it was time to get back to cooking.

Throughout the afternoon, we finished up what we began the night before: more slicing, peeling, dicing, and basting. When my host mother came home from work around five, me and my host brother had been taking a break and kicking around a volleyball in the kitchen. Periodically, we’d take a gander in the oven. 

Around six o’clock, our guests started arriving. First to arrive  was my host mom’s sister with her husband. Then came my host dad’s sister, which was a surprise since she broke her rib the day before. The cousins, friends, and family members all took a seat at the large makeshift banquet table we set up in the living room. We took every square table in the house, even the one in the attic, put them next to each other, and placed table covers over them. We had a fire roaring in the fireplace, which together with the candles provided a warm flickering glow of light in the room.

One more thing had to be done- the turkey cutting. Acting like I had a clue what I was doing, I boldly sliced into the steaming hunk to the cheer of amazed Germans. It was time to eat.

Plates clanking and silverware clinging could be heard from all corners of the house. I made sure we carried out typical traditions while, like saying what we are thankful for. Mine was easy: I was so thankful to be here in Germany, with such a great family willing to help me make the greatest German Thanksgiving ever. 

The night ended singing American songs together and devouring the pie. I never would have guessed five months ago how successful my doubted idea would be.