Gobble, Gobble

Thanksgiving in the land of our Revolutionary War rivals was, as you might expect, a little odd. Of course the nation from whence our country struggled to gain its independence doesn't much care about our nation's over four century's old pilgrim-Indian lovefest. So we were not surprised that neither Scott nor Dallin (who is at a British school) had any time off to revel in this most delicious of all American holidays. In response we made fun plans for an alternate celebration with friends at our flat. This year, we then declared, Thanksgiving was to be on a Saturday. Somehow still when true turkey day arrived we were left feeling rather empty. Melancholy filled our hearts knowing our families and friends were gathered together around their Thanksgiving feasts while Dallin was at school, Scott was at work and I made pasta. Sigh. We did in fact have a fun Thanksgiving Saturday substitute with friends here, and despite this funky British kitchen that I have yet to figure out and despite having to hunt down a few key ingredients not native to this land, the food tasted just like an authentic American Thanksgiving.

There was one difference. I don't think European turkeys will be winning any beauty contests. Looks like they could also do with a bit of a shave!



Trevon didn't have any problems digging in!