Four and a half decades ago, I moved abroad without speaking another language or understanding other cultures, I stumbled into European homes and hearts. No matter how bleak the times, I appreciated being welcomed abroad and showed my gratitude by sharing the ultra North American tradition, Thanksgiving,
As an American born granddaughter of Scotch/Irish/Norwegian ancestry, I have been an immigrant my entire adult life. Growing up in the US, my McKinzie/Olson family Thanksgiving tradition included grandparents, friends and foreigners. The dinner menu varied from year to year, but the message remained the same.
For my first Thanksgiving in France, my teammates insisted on slowing down to savor each dish in separate courses. We were a table the entire day! During my “traditional” T-Day celebration in Germany, we never sat down. The event turned into a free-for-all when the women and men in my basketball club squeezed into my kitchen leaving standing room only. In Switzerland, we dined with a hodgepodge of multi-national neighbors and friends creating a beautiful kaleidoscope of humanity
This year, in a unique twist, we are celebrating the holiday with our son and daughter-in-law in Warwickshire England.
A tray full of home baked yorkshire puddings
Our daughter-in-law’s sister will make Yorkshire pudding, but it’s not a dessert. This savory, English dish, from northern England’s Yorkshire area, is similar in texture to a pop over. It rises, puffs and crisps as it cooks, but remains soft and airy inside.
“Made from an egg and flour base mixed with, milk or water,” her sister explained, “It’s like a baked pudding.”
In 1737, a “dripping pudding” (using the fat that dropped into the dripping pan to cook) recipe was first noted in the book, The Whole Duty of a Woman. The art is in contriving the perfect lightness.
Since 2007, Yorkshire Pudding Day is celebrated the first Sunday in February in the UK and believe it or not, it is often recognized again on October 13th in the US and elsewhere.
The bowl in the middle of the dough puff makes an ideal gravy boat. Originally,Yorkshire pudding, made with low-cost ingredients and a thick gravy, was served as a first course to dull diners’ appetites, so guests wouldn’t eat too much of the expensive meat in the next course.
Imagine the sacrilege if Americans tried cutting costs on T-Day with that trick!
Our daughter-in-law will prepare Irish roast potatoes, another classic dish, adopted from the Irish side of her family.
“We always use Yukon Gold spuds. They are peeled and par boiled, then roughed up a bit, and basted in hot oil in a big roasting pan,” she explained. “ Then, we pop them in the oven to bake for 45 minutes to an hour.”
Ironically, this year, the main dish of our T-day won’t be the blessed bird, but instead a wee piggy. Our son is making his brother-in-law’s recipe for ham, which is baked in coca cola, adding an American touch.
To further “butcher” the American tradition, my French hubby will insist on serving a cheese course, a lovely Brie accompanied by a white or orange cheddar to appease the English palate.
Our son’s mother-in-law will bring an apple crumble, a classic, comforting British dessert, which combines tender, caramelized apples with a buttery, crumbly topping.
Always an outlander here and forever an alien in the kitchen, I welcome any Thanksgiving help. I love sharing favorites from around the globe, especially on this day of giving.
Wherever you are gathered, no matter what you serve or how you celebrate, take time to sit still, hug the person next to you and give thanks for your blessings —family, friendship and fellowship.
No matter what deity we worship or ideology we adhere to, which language we speak, foods we eat, or customs we celebrate, we should keep this in mind.
We are all members of the same human race and guests here on planet earth.
will increase the speed and incline on the treadmill.”
Nooooo, I’m going to be sucked up by the roller.
As an athlete, coming of age in the 70s during Title IX’s infancy, the explosion of women’s basketball today blows my mind.
So did my little sister.
On August 24, 2024, at Minnesota’s Target Center, as I sat on the upper level of the packed arena, pandemonium erupted as fans paid tribute to their past hero and applauded the exploits of their present star, both catalysts in revolutionizing the popularity of the women’s game.
Thanks to Title IX, a girl grows up never questioning her right to be all she can be.
After the game, Maya Moore Irons addressed former teammates and fans as they raised her number 23 to the rafters. Known for her illustrious MVP career, Maya stands out most, not for her accolades on the court, but for the person she is off it.
From kindergarten teacher, to camp leader, to club member, to quilt-maker, to card sender, to grandma extraordinaire… everybody loves Lenore!
embrace each day as a gift, also showed us how to nurture, to console, to compromise, to accept, to fight, to forgive, to teach, to learn, to praise, to thank, to welcome, to love.
Had you been born in a different era, when women had equal educational and athletic opportunities, you would have been an athlete, a doctor, an engineer or a scientist, like your two brothers. Instead you broke glass ceiling in the 1950s earning a college degree, becoming a teacher and raising four children five years apart.
On a recent trip to England, our son took us to visit historic Warwick, an enclosed city. The highlight of the afternoon for me was going for a proper English cream tea at the 
looking like they stepped out of the back kitchen where they baked homemade cakes and scones. Patrons spilled out of the ground floor tea rooms, so our waitress led us up a rickety, winding, ancient staircase that made me feel like I stepped into the old nursery rhyme.
We squeezed around a low table designed for short-statured folks of earlier times. We folded our long legs; our knees knocked into the furniture.
Awe-struck by the sight of the colorful, long house boats, I peppered the people floating past with questions. Friendly folks answered all of my silly inquiries.
The average 7 foot by 50 foot narrow boat has about 350 square feet of space for a bedroom, kitchen, living area, toilet, and cockpit. A small refrigerator, stove, cupboards and a narrow table squeezed on one side of the boat. Most have electric heat or a wood burning stove.
“Me ’n dad sleep on the couch that folds out into a bed right in front the telly,” he added. “Granddad sleeps in the bow and this here is the toilet and shower.”
Much like the English cottages in the village, each boat on the canal has its own name and unique identity with eclectic collections of artifacts, various potted plants and flower boxes decorating their colorful painted exteriors with names like Athena, Beulah Mae, Lady Anne, Jemima, Tubby Bunny, Rollin Along, Bubbling Billy, End and Beginning
collision. Bow, or fore end. Deck. Fore and aft.