OUTSIDE THE BOX
Thanks be to the harvest
One of the great achievements of humanity…
…is the transmission of patterns of behaviour and beliefs based on ideas and culture – known to most as tradition. Paradoxically, however, it is above all tradition to follow all these traditions without a second thought. After all, that’s the way it’s always been done. And that can’t be wrong, can it?
This highly philosophical thought struck me, a radical vegan, like a meat skewer. I was on my way to the airport to pick up my American uncle and his two teenage daughters from New York. Already at the gate my uncle was rubbing his hands with glee at the thought of the upcoming feast and family reunion – after all, Thanksgiving is one of the great American traditions, along with the 4th of July and extended visits to Burger King and Kentucky Fried Chicken.
Celebrating thanksgiving among family
Because my father had been persuaded on the phone months earlier to promise his American brother and his carnivorous daughters a turkey feast as sumptuous as it was traditional, my father, mother and grandmother scurried through the kitchen three days before Thanksgiving like a startled swarm of wasps. Since neither my grandmother nor my parents had the faintest idea about my „illness“, as they liked to call it, and since I, the black sheep of the Meat-Lover family, was often nicknamed the „meatloaf allergy sufferer“ in fits of humorous satire, I offered, as always, to prepare my own plant-based alternative dishes and bring this vegan Garden of Eden to my parents‘ house on Thanksgiving Day.
Reflecting on the core message of Thanksgiving, I spent the next two days of the harvest gratefully shopping and preparing for my personal feast. Since turkey and duck legs rarely grow in fields, I concentrated on vegetables, fruit, nuts, grains, and my best friends tofu and seitan, which, with a little finesse, herbs and the right spices, can be used to make delicious schnitzels, gyros and sausages.
The festive day began…
…of course, with stuffing the turkey, which I had no doubt would have died a happy death, and which reminded me more of an ostrich in its dimensions, taking up all the space on the stove. While Grandma and Mother stuffed almost everything edible into the bird’s belly, I emptied the dozen or so Tupperware boxes and draped my rich four-course meal over Mother’s most beautiful plates, bowls and dishes. Time passed, the bloated rooster sizzled away and the whole family sat in the garden reminiscing. Only my two somewhat over-excited teenage cousins were off on an adventure of their own and were nowhere to be seen… at least until the time when two cries rang out from the edge of the forest into the idyllic garden. As if struck by lightning, everyone ran towards the acoustic SOS sign and discovered the two runaways crouching over a lifeless chick that had probably fallen out of its nest. After a good hour of extensive heart massage, mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and stretching by my wise grandmother, who was armed with a number of household tips, we had saved the life of the animal and hoisted it back into its nest.
The next scream, however, came from my mother, who ran towards the kitchen as if stung by a tarantula – and we all followed. Inside, it was full of smoke as if there had been an explosion, and the bird of paradise in the oven had taken on a pitch-black colour and a charcoal-like consistency. Sadly, there was no rescue for this second bird.
Once the collective family tears had dried, I took the kitchen sceptre in hand and served my vegan, colourful, extremely healthy and, above all, extremely tasty five-course meal with a nonchalance that only comes naturally to food and life savers. The compliments, pats on the back and thank-yous from my entire family culminated in the statement that it was the best Thanksgiving dinner „ever“ and that I should please wield the wooden spoon as „Chef de Meatloaf Allergy Sufferer“ at all future family gatherings from now on.
