the thanksgiving that was

I was in the kitchen for seven hours straight. I used a kilo of flour and almost a kilo of butter. The calorie content of that room yesterday could've killed a full grown man. It was Thanksgiving (ok, the day after) and I went hardcore. It was serious. I got home from work, and the cooking started. It must have been because this was the third Thanksgiving that I haven't been at home. The first, both my parents and my brother came to Madrid. Last year, it was a small affair with a few friends. This year, it was a dinner with about 35 people, half Spanish and half American, truly crazy. So anyway. After a conference call with my mother and aunt and cousin about the troubling consistency of my pie dough, I was ready to go, game face on. First pie, pumpkin. No problems. My pie dough, a little crumbly. Rolling it out with a thermos instead of a rolling pin may have effected that. But I kept it going! Next up, the mixed nut tart with a cookie crust. The cookie crust nearly broke my blender (there was a funny smell), but I continued on. Chopped nuts, mixed corn syrup, pressed the crust into the tin foil pan, and into the oven. A note about tin foil pans. Una mierda! (Ehem. Bullshit) They don't hold anything. And they explode in your oven, leaving you a disaster to clean up. But whatever, so I had to scoop up some of the filling with a spatula. No worries. On to number 3! The crowning jewel, the maple pecan pie. My seventh pie crust turned out great, I finally figured out the butter to Crisco ratio. And after the pie, I whipped up some sweet potatoes. Marshmellows please! And finally, I had a friend help me transport all this baking. And then, we ate. And ate. And then, exhausted, stuffed, I went home to sleep. Thanksgiving, de verdad.

Thanksgiving-T Minus 3 Days

Finding ingredients in Madrid is like a scavenger hunt. I've ruled out so many recipes because I know I won't be able to find the ingredients (Seeds of paradise?? Alton Brown, what even is that?). I've been to the grocery store, the market, the expensive grocery store, the American store, the other American store...And I'm still not done. Finding pumpkin proved to be a near disaster. The first American store was out of pumpkin. It's Thanksgiving, you're an American store, and you don't have pumpkin? Pardona? I believe the conversation went like this: "¿No tienes calabaza en latas? (You don't have canned pumpkin?) Answer: No, no nos queda. (No, we don't have any left). Me: ...¿en serio? (Seriously?)...They were quite serious. So, then I hauled ass to the other American store on the other side of Madrid, going over the nightmare scenario of a pumpkin-less Thanksgiving. Could I use regular squash? Luckily, the other American store was well stocked. And super expensive. (2.50 a can. Seriously). 12 euros for a bag of pecans?? Guess again. Pecans are very hard to find here. Not that popular. However. I believe I have spent much more than 12 euros on this pecan pie so far. First, I bought the wrong pecans (Salted. Damn). Then, I had to buy the shelled ones. And a nutcracker. And then I had to shell them. Luckily, Sarah was there to pitch in, so we both had bloody fingers...All that for a pecan pie. It better be good.

thanksgiving...T-One Week

Thanksgiving is in one week...OK, so it's in six days. I will be celebrating it in a week, since I live in a country (aka outside of America) that does not recognize Turkey Day as a holiday. I'm mentally preparing for the insensitive turkey jokes, since Spaniards don't really understand that Thanksgiving is a holiday when you're with your family. Seeing that I'm here, I have a bit of a rough time going to work on Thursday like it's a normal day. I'm not saying, Woe is me, but a little sympathy wouldn't hurt. But really, this year I'm totally ready for this holiday. A true ex-pat affair. A friend and co-worker is having a dinner on Friday at her apartment...with about thirty people. I'm on pie duty, with a sweet potato bonus. Bring on the marshmellows! And I will be making the pie crust from scratch. Because I can do whatever I want, and my mother will love me, but if I buy those pie crusts...I shudder to think. I was raised better. But thank god I don't have to worry about a turkey, although there have been discussions. How a big a turkey do you order? How many kilos? How many pounds is that? How long do you leave it in the oven, especially if you're eating at Spanish dinner hours (which is LATE)? I'm assuming you just have to baste. There will be updates!

another solo trip? do you even have friends?

Yes. I do have friends. However, another solo trip was in order, since my friends had already planned the puente (long weekend) and were going to Morocco or Istanbul (what LOSERS), or they had no money for traveling. Waiting to the last minute sometimes is not the best strategy, but for me, it works, kind of. Anyway, to escape from Madrid for a few days, I hopped on a bus and rode seven hours, through wind and rain, and arrived to a dark and gloomy San Sebastián. Dark, gloomy, and wonderfully mysterious. One note: In Madrid, it never rains. The wind doesn't gust so much as sandblast. And there is never, never water thrown in your face, unless you get hit by a bucketful from someone's window. San Sebastián is next to the Atlantic Ocean, about 30 miles from France. Weather-wise, it's everything Madrid is not, which is exactly what I needed. I arrived at around 10:30, and it was already dark and rainy. After checking into my hostel, which was surprisingly cozy and thankfully dry, I wandered into the street to get something to eat. Spaniards talk about the good eats in the Basque country (not officially a seperate country, but don't tell them that), and they can back it up. They've got some tapas (really, they're called pintxos) that are insane in the membrane. It needed to be said. I ate so much, yet I have no pictures of food (what was I thinking??). Foie gras, cod with cauliflower purée, ham croquettes, goat cheese toast, a perfectly cooked steak filet (Remember that time I was vegetarian for like seven years? What was that about?)...I can't even remember what else. Deliciousness. And I walked. Up the beach, down the beach, up a hill. I didn't mind the wind, the rain, the deliciously expensive food. It knocked some sense into my dried out brain. And on the last day, I saw the end of a marathon. You heard me. Spanish people. Running. Without the threat of being gored by a bull. The Basque country really is different.

eat the hamburger with your hands!

In Madrid, American food is really trendy. It's bizarre, really, as an American. Because you would never call to make reservations for a real diner. That's ridiculous. But here, if you don't call ahead, you might as well just dream on, because there's no way you're getting a seat. Kiss that greasy burger and side of fries good-bye. There's a restaurant called Home Burger that if you don't make reservations (for a BURGER), they look at you in disgust, as if to say, Of course there isn't space. And then, once you do make reservations, they look at you like you're crazy once you're eating. It's a burger. You eat it with your hands. Put down the fork. Get messy, Europe! And the French fries? One: they aren't chips. This is American food. They're French fries. Two: Also a finger food. Dig in! And stop looking at me like I'm nutso. I'm American, you're eating at an American restaurant. Take notes. If you go to a Chinese restaurant, you'd use chopsticks. We have a culture! We have our own food! Really! Macaroni and cheese, meat loaf, casserole, pie, cake, all things deep freid, and yes, hamburgers. Sometimes, I get a little defensive when people try to belittle the culture of the United States. I'm no Glen Beck, but you tell me that I don't have a culture, and I'll take that hamburger out of your clean, fork-holding hand. Sorry now?