Hosting a
Thanksgiving party in France is nearly impossible, but we Americans
do try.
First of all, it's
not a national holiday here, so the dinner is usually pushed to the
weekend before or after. That's not such a big deal, but there's less
time to digest, watch football, and do that Christmas shopping.
Source: Duckshow.com |
Third, and this is
the hard part, what about the turkey? Again, this is not impossible,
because many a Parisian butcher has played this tune. They are very
thankful for this holiday. You see, the French don't eat turkey this
time of year, so a whole bird is not generally available. But if
you're willing to pay double, a French butcher will sell you
anything.
This year, we hosted
a Thanksgiving party last night, finding only two stray Americans at
our front door at the appointed time. But what guests! They brought a
bird, fully cooked, flowers, and a box of chocolates.
As one of the guests
unwrapped it, she told the story of the fowl's fate. A colleague has
a farm, and every year offers me whatever she slaughters. “It's an
organic farm, and the animals range free,” she explained. Wow,
that's going to be one tasty bird, I thought.
We could nearly see
the bird. “And she gives you whatever she has roaming around.
You'll never know what you get.”
It looked small, the
size of a chicken. “Yes, it is small,” my friend explained. “The
farmer apologized, but she never knows how big they are going to be
until the day she catches them.”
Sounds like a very free range
farm, I thought.
“I hope you don't
mind having … duck for Thanksgiving?” she asked, as we all give
it a gander. It looked naked, with its stubbly skin, as if it had
just shaved. I had goosebumps.
Carving the Thanksgiving duck. |
So we carved the canard, and filled our plates with more of the usual Thanksgiving fare:
sweet potatoes (though tossed with black beans to make a salad), a
crazy cranberry sauce, and the best classic stuffing this side of the
Atlantic, made better with a slab of French butter.
We washed it down
with an 8-euro Burgundy and polished it off with serial pieces of
Jeff de Bruges chocolates.
How did the duck
taste? Like Thanksgiving.
Rose
Marie Burke, an editor and journalist, writes a blog
about her personal insights into life in Paris. After 20 years in the
City of Light, she still calls her native Pittsburgh "home."