Paris Butcher Wilfried Gardil Shows Off the Dinde Fermière
© Meredith Mullins

Crossing Cultures at the Dinner Table

The simple truth: we should vow never to grow tired of giving thanks or saying thank you. Thanksgiving should be a verb, a word of action. And certainly more than once a year, we should remind ourselves of all the good things in life. Family and friends. New adventures. Discoveries. Meaningful moments. Freedom. Saying Oh, I see with awe or with compassion.

The OIC blog has provided a world tour in the past week, from the Senegal sheep festival to heart-felt memories of American family life. At the risk of Thanksgiving overkill (and because today is the day), I share the American-in-Paris view of this cultural tradition.

My First Thanksgiving
© Meredith Mullins

Searching for Everything American

My first November in Paris, many years ago, sent me straight to the store in the Marais named Thanksgiving. (It is at this point in the story that I freely admit that I am not a cook.)

I was nostalgic for American things, and this was the place to browse (and to be thankful that you could find crunchy peanut butter in Paris).

The tiny shop, reminiscent of a 1950s general store in the heartland of America, is crowded with products that the owner thinks Americans might miss most— from Fruit Loops to Saltines to Pepperidge Farm stuffing to a shelf full of jello to fresh cranberries.

For Thanksgiving, of course, they have it all. I ordered my pre-cooked, fat, white-meat laden American turkey and stocked up on stuffing.

“Thanksgiving” Store Window
© Meredith Mullins

I bought cranberries, sweet potatoes, beans, french-fried onion rings and Campbell’s soup (to make that bean casserole that Mom used to make).

About 500 euros later, I left the store and wondered what exactly had just happened.

Finding French Options

As the years passed, many different approaches emerged (all of which cost much less than 500 euros).

• You can have a traditional Thanksgiving dinner out (at some of the favorite expat places with names like “Breakfast in America,” “Joe Allen’s” or “Blues Bar-B-Q.”

• You can go to the local American churches.

• You can create your own French version of Thanksgiving (with oysters and organ meats . . . yum).

• Or you can visit your friendly local butchers (mine are Wilfried and Jean-Paul) to order an American style turkey (lots of white meat) or the leaner and gamier French turkey (dinde fermière), with feathers and all. (Some say once you’ve tried the French turkey, you can never go back, although there may be a bit of sticker shock.)

Jean-Paul Gardil with the De-feathered Turkey
© Meredith Mullins

Blending French and American Traditions

Now, after eight years of living in France, I still order my pre-cooked turkey (my oven is too small to cook it myself . . . at least that’s my story and I’m sticking to it).

But I invite friends—all of whom are good cooks—to bring a dish. Then, we put into practice the idea of crossing cultures at the dinner table.

The French Influence: We look each other in the eye and toast with champagne, and we have a cheese course before those pumpkin and pecan pies.

The American Influence: We start a few hours before a normal French dinner (at most French  parties, you’re lucky if you start to eat by 10 pm), and we warn the French guests that at Thanksgiving we eat everything at once on a huge plate stacked with food. The French guests should also be warned not to spread the cranberry sauce on everything just because it is called a sauce . . . (although they may have something there).

Somewhere over dinner, I savor my Oh, I see moment: Lean turkey or butterball, dining at 6 pm or 10 pm, the idea remains consistent—We are here to give thanks and say thank you for all that we have.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

Paris Butcher Wilfried Gardil Shows Off the Dinde Fermi\u00e8re
\u00a9 Meredith Mullins<\/p><\/div>\n

Crossing Cultures at the Dinner Table<\/span><\/h2>\n

The simple truth: we should vow never to grow tired of giving thanks or saying thank you. Thanksgiving should be a verb, a word of action. And certainly more than once a year, we should remind ourselves of all the good things in life. Family and friends. New adventures. Discoveries. Meaningful moments. Freedom. Saying Oh, I see<\/strong> with awe or with compassion.<\/p>\n

The OIC blog has provided a world tour in the past week, from the Senegal sheep festival to heart-felt memories of American family life. At the risk of Thanksgiving overkill (and because today is the day<\/em>), I share the American-in-Paris view of this cultural tradition.<\/p>\n

My First Thanksgiving
\u00a9 Meredith Mullins<\/p><\/div>\n

Searching for Everything American<\/h4>\n

My first November in Paris, many years ago, sent me straight to the store in the Marais named Thanksgiving<\/a>. (It is at this point in the story that I freely admit that I am not a cook.)<\/p>\n

I was nostalgic for American things, and this was the place to browse (and to be thankful that you could find crunchy peanut butter in Paris).<\/p>\n

The tiny shop, reminiscent of a 1950s general store in the heartland of America, is crowded with products that the owner thinks Americans might miss most\u2014 from Fruit Loops to Saltines to Pepperidge Farm stuffing to a shelf full of jello to fresh cranberries.<\/p>\n

For Thanksgiving, of course, they have it all.\u00a0I ordered my pre-cooked, fat, white-meat laden American turkey and stocked up on stuffing.<\/p>\n

“Thanksgiving” Store Window
\u00a9 Meredith Mullins<\/p><\/div>\n

I bought cranberries, sweet potatoes, beans, french-fried onion rings and Campbell’s soup (to make that bean casserole that Mom used to make).<\/p>\n

About 500 euros later, I left the store and wondered what exactly had just happened.<\/p>\n

<\/h4>\n

Finding French Options<\/h4>\n

As the years passed, many different approaches emerged (all of which cost much less than 500 euros).<\/p>\n

\n
• You can have a traditional Thanksgiving dinner out (at some of the favorite expat places with names like “Breakfast in America,” “Joe Allen’s” or “Blues Bar-B-Q.”<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
  \n
  • You can go to the local American churches.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
    \n
    • You can create your own French version of Thanksgiving (with oysters and organ meats . . . yum).<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
      \n
      • Or you can visit your friendly local butchers (mine are Wilfried and Jean-Paul) to order an American style turkey (lots of white meat) or the leaner and gamier French turkey (dinde fermi\u00e8re<\/em>), with feathers and all. (Some say once you’ve tried the French turkey, you can never go back, although there may be a bit of sticker shock.)<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
        

        Jean-Paul Gardil with the De-feathered Turkey
        \u00a9 Meredith Mullins<\/p><\/div>\n

        Blending French and American Traditions<\/h4>\n

        Now, after eight years of living in France, I still order my pre-cooked turkey (my oven is too small to cook it myself . . . at least that’s my story and I’m sticking to it).<\/p>\n

        But I invite friends\u2014all of whom are good cooks\u2014to bring a dish. Then, we put into practice the idea of crossing cultures at the dinner table.<\/p>\n

        The French Influence:<\/em>\u00a0We look each other in the eye and\u00a0toast with champagne, and we have a cheese course before those pumpkin and pecan pies.<\/p>\n

        The American Influence:<\/em>\u00a0We start a few hours before a normal French dinner (at most French \u00a0parties, you’re lucky if you start to eat by 10 pm), and we warn the French guests that at Thanksgiving we eat everything at once on a huge plate stacked with food. The French guests should also be warned not to spread the cranberry sauce on everything just because it is called a sauce . . . (although they may have something there).<\/p>\n

        Somewhere over dinner, I savor my Oh, I see moment:\u00a0<\/strong>Lean turkey or butterball, dining at 6 pm or 10 pm, the idea remains consistent—We are here to give thanks and say thank you for all that we have.<\/p>\n

        Happy Thanksgiving!<\/p>\n

        Comment<\/a>\u00a0on this post below, or inspire insight with your own\u00a0OIC Moment<\/strong>\u00a0here<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":null,"protected":false},"author":5,"featured_media":2574,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[98,99,211],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2551","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-crossing-culture","category-heritage-culture","category-paris-mappoints"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2551","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/5"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2551"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2551\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":40540,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2551\/revisions\/40540"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2574"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2551"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2551"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2551"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}