Thankful for Pre-Packaged American Goodness

Last year, Olivier & I flew back to Colorado for Thanksgiving. This year, we decided that we would spend Christmas & New Year’s in the U.S. & would spend Thanksgiving in France.

What I always find amusing is the Americans who think that there is Thanksgiving in France. When someone asks me, “So…is there a Thanksgiving in France?” or, “What do they do for Thanksgiving in France?” I have the urge to throw books at them for being so ignorant of the history of their holidays.

Yeah…American holiday. Look into it.

But, I digress.

Funny enough, there is Thanksgiving in Paris – among the community of Yanks that are living here. Several restaurants offer a Thanksgiving dinner as long as you’ve made reservations well in advance.

But…I just can’t do it. Really, I don’t see anything wrong with eating a holiday dinner in a restaurant, but it’s bad enough that my mother isn’t cooking the food. I’d rather not be fed my holiday meal by a stranger.

Thanksgiving is my absolute favorite holiday, so it has to be done right.

So, Olivier & I went to a store here in Paris that sells imported American food – aptly named “Thanksgiving”.

I’ve got my canned sweet potatoes, my pumpkin pie mix, my boxes of stuffing & packages of turkey gravy mix. I have cans of cranberry sauce, cream of mushroom soup and a turkey baster. (Good luck finding a turkey baster in France) Oh, & I’ve got so much more…so many great cans, packages & boxes of…authentic American pre-packaged holiday goodness.

Why eat dinner in a restaurant when I can stay home opening all of these cans, boxes & packages all day? That’s the only way that it’s really going to feel authentic.

Now to cook all of this shit & a fucking turkey in this tiny oven.