Thanksgiving in Patagonia

Cranberries are next to impossible to find in Patagonia. Gabriel and I hunted/gathered at three separate grocery stores on Thanksgiving and finally had to give up on the idea of cranberry sauce to accompany our turkey parts (turkey, too, is difficult to find). But we did manage an otherwise delicious feast to celebrate the day the Pilgrims and the Indians sat down together at a table and shared a bursting cornucopia, despite their differing hat preferences (square buckle/feathers).

It was comforting to celebrate ye old American holiday all the way down here in Patagonia, to eat semi-accurate renditions of the dishes my mom puts on the table back in North Carolina. We whipped up the feast in the kitchen of Gabriel’s apartment and partook of it with Gabriel’s girlfriend Gloria, who was born and raised in Chile but more than willing to help us celebrate the all-American holiday.


Gabriel preparing to peel apples for the stuffing

Here’s what was on the menu: • Turkey parts (with, ummm, butter, salt, rosemary and whatever else I found in Gabriel’s cabinet. Failed to look that one up on beforehand.) • Sausage, apple and cranberry stuffing (minus the cranberries, sage and cooked turkey liver, which Abu Gosch grocery does not carry). This was the definite highlight of the meal for me, which is why I had 2-3 servings. • Cornbread, with tiny bits of green pepper baked inside • Carrots, cucumber and celery salad • Instant mashed potatoes, remembered last minute, purchased at the corner store across the street 10 minutes before the plates hit the table. As we clinked glasses of sparkling apple cider, we took a minute to give thanks for what we have. For me, that includes the chance to be in a place that doesn’t have cranberries, whole turkeys and the other trappings of a culture I already know.