Thanksgiving Smorgasboard

By TAD BARTIMUS

Sorting through a shoebox full of paper scraps, I muttered to myself that I had to get my recipes in order. An hour earlier I'd set out on a quest for mother's tried-and-true turkey roasting instructions, but I kept getting sidetracked. Baked pumpkin. Yum. That would be a nice side dish. Black Forest cake. Why not? Nobody at my house likes mincemeat anyway. What's this exotic appetizer tray? Perfect.

As I planned Thanksgiving dinner from soup to nuts it dawned on me that nearly every recipe I wanted to fix had been given to me by immigrants.

It's a blessing for my community – and my country – to have these foreigners-turned-citizens settled in our midst. Their cultures and traditions, work ethic and morality broaden our narrow world. Beside their recipes they've given me kindness and friendship while setting an example of tolerance and diversity.

As new Americans, they've honored their heritage but also learned to speak English, contributed to the economy, supported our democratic system and educated their children. As we enter the hectic holiday season I find myself thinking less about the first Pilgrims and more about the newcomers on whom I depend up and down my own road.

Days seem to be going faster as we count down to Y2K, making it even more imperative to hang onto relationships that anchor our lives. Sensing this without really talking about it, a bunch of us have been enjoying more spontaneous potlucks lately.

There's never any order to these meals, we just bring whatever's handy. Somebody starts a phone chain with "I've got salad" and the next person says "I'll do rice" and pretty soon we're eating a feast and counting our good fortune to be in each other's company.

Isn't that the heart of what the Pilgrims did? Invite the neighbors in to give thanks for being alive? By all accounts 1621 was a tough year full of death and destruction, financial uncertainty, too little time to do too much work. You could say the same thing about 1999. People don't change, only their clothes do.

My pilgrims bring the same gratitude to the communal table, along with their unique dishes and a historic connection to them. Gertrude's Black Forest cake is older than this century, created in her mother's German kitchen and carried from Switzerland to America when Gertrude was a young bride. For 66 years she made it for her American husband, who loved it nearly as much as her. Now she makes it for her us.

Patricia's hors d'oeuvres have their origin in her Philippine household but are also influenced by her years as a New York model. Anja's love of natural ingredients was nurtured in her native Finland; now, as an American organic farmer she grows not just pumpkins but nearly everything else on our plates.

Jean was raised in eastern Canada and takes hours to prepare elaborate dishes we've never tasted before but can't wait to sample again. Fellow Canadian Pat is from the Alberta prairie where she learned to put uncommonly good touches on common foods.

Our town's cultural foundation is Polynesian – we're just as likely to smell roasting pig and poi on Thanksgiving morning as we are turkey and cranberry sauce. There's also plenty of Japanese sushi, Vietnamese phou, Chinese dim sum and Portuguese bean soup, too.

From the beginning, when the Indians brought the corn, the Pilgrims no doubt fixed it the way they thought they would if they were in England. Thanksgiving has always been a potluck, and so it will be again this year. It never hurts to throw a little salsa in with the mashed potatoes.

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