Today is Thanksgiving in Canada, a harvest celebration that, in its current form at least, is similar to the American version but also infinitely more low key (as most things Canadian are apt to be).
The earliest recorded celebration of thanks (in European records, at least) in North America is noted in the records of explorer Martin Frobisher in 1578 in what is now the province of Newfoundland and Labrador. His crew had been searching for the Northwest Passage, a nautical short cut to the riches of the East via the Arctic. If you know anything about that part of the world you will have heard of its legendary beauty, but also of its harsh landscape and unrelenting seas.
The crew’s thanksgiving was of gratitude to God for their safety, safety that can by no means be assured even for modern mariners in northern seas, let alone for the sailors of the 16th century.
The original story of our Thanksgiving, then, is not one of harvest bounty but of mere survival. It’s an easy thing to forget as we sit in warm houses around tables groaning with turkeys, vegetables, and rich desserts. Frobisher’s crews would have dined on salt beef, dried peas, and hard biscuits, hardly the stuff of feasting. The food of absolute survival is quite different than our idea of celebration.
My ex mother-in-law was born in Italy after the Second World War and always thought it was weird that North American loved pumpkin pie. “That’s what cows eat” she would say with some derision. In her mind, pumpkin was something you only ate when you didn’t have a choice, like when the wrecked landscapes and economies of Europe allowed for very few choices. In her mind a pie made with pumpkin was ridiculous, hardly a thing to celebrate.
My mother in law is by no means the only person with such opinions. Many people who have grown up in poverty or in times of severe hardship or rationing have strong opinions about food and are quick to discard anything that reminds them too much of the hard times.
But it is a privilege to have such strong opinions on what we will and won’t eat. In fact, for many who escape terrible conditions to put those memories in the past is the point - that was then, this is now. The war is over. It is a privilege - that’s the point.
In the relative safety and prosperity of North America, at least, absolute starvation is almost unheard of and eating “cow feed” is replaced by poor quality, cheap, industrial food with little nutritional value. Industrial food production has indeed made calories cheap, but it’s not the whole reason. We’re starving for time much more than for food.
You can make nearly anything taste pretty good if you have the time to work on it. Cheap cuts of meat can be gently prodded into delicious and surprising meals worthy of a hefty restaurant bill. Vegetables and fruits, even the overgrown and overripe, can be coaxed into great meals and gorgeous dessert, but they take time. What’s more, they also take some skill, the development of which takes (you got it) time. And while we are all busy, the poorer you are the less leisure time you have to devote to elaborate cooking and sourcing of ingredients.
Our ancestors probably didn’t have much choice in the matter. Delicious food was far less important than edible food, and if something was edible it had better get eaten. We aren’t that far removed from being admonished to “clean our plate”, the sin of food waste being far more significant that whether we were hungry or not. If you aren’t sure where your next meal is coming from who cares if you’re a bit overstuffed? Eat it, it’s good for you (even if it tastes terrible).
But if celebrations of thanksgiving are about reflection on the conditions of the past as well as gratitude for the present, what if we could be thankful for not only what we have right now but for how far we’ve come?
I’m always looking for ways to use things in new ways and to try things most people overlook. I experiment with offal (sometimes more successfully than others), buy bags of blackened bananas for baking, and keeps containers of scraps and bones in my freezer.
Over the past few weeks I’ve fallen in love with the oversized zucchini from the farmer’s market. They are heavy, more than slightly intimidating, and extremely cheap - just a shiny dollar per massive vegetable. There’s a lot of eating in just one, a value that no one hungry could afford to overlook - my ancestors would even be thankful for it.
So I’ve been learning how to cook with massive zucchini and it turns out there are plenty of beautiful dishes to make if you only take the time. Casseroles and cakes, oatmeal and rice, there are all kinds of possibilities. Scoop out the huge seeds and the spongy centre, then shred/grate and squeeze out the excess water. You’ve got yourself some excellent vegetable “filler” that can become nearly anything you want. I’m sold, though my kiddo somewhat less so (but she is getting used to it!)
I’m happy that I don’t have to make food decisions based solely on what’s edible. I’m glad I can afford more or less whatever I’d like to eat. I’m pleased to have choices that few in human history could ever imagine, and one of those choices is to take the time to learn how to cook and how to handle the inscrutable and more time-consuming things from the garden and market.
If I can make something delicious from food my ancestors ate for survival I have a great deal to be grateful for. Something to consider in this time of thanksgiving.