Thoughts of Home

It's Wednesday in Melbourne as I begin this post, and not just any old Wednesday.  It is the Wednesday before my favorite holiday, the Thursday in which Americans celebrate Thanksgiving.  I could list any number of things for which I am thankful, but at this moment I am most grateful that I am not where I was last year on this same day, that is with the throngs of my fellow expatriates at the Melbourne Costco.  Instead, I am comfortably seated at home, having made arrangements with my favorite delivery guy to have our turkey and various other necessary items to be dropped off later today.  Not only do I avoid paying tolls, driving in heavy traffic, fighting for a parking space, and waiting in several lengthy queues, this also means that I have time to work on a blog post.  

My thoughts have largely been with our family members back in North America during the past week or so.  I never like to miss celebrating Thanksgiving with them, but I often have had to do so during the twenty years of my married life.  Given that we have lived in four different countries, or five if you count Texas as a separate country (we do), it is understandable.  It is too close to Christmas really to justify a separate, costly trip, and the fact that it falls on a Thursday makes it all the harder.  

Rather than wallow too much in self pity, I have been busy planning our own feast.  I am not cooking for seventy-five this year, only seventeen.  Much as I enjoyed doing that last year, I concluded it was not practical this year.  Still, seventeen requires some planning and plotting for coming up with the right ingredients and making sure everything gets heated properly on the right time schedule.   I have turkey wings for the make-ahead gravy waiting their turn in the fridge, frozen whole cranberries in the freezer, and somewhat to the children's dismay, Aussie marshmallows on the pantry shelf. My kids felt I really should make a separate trip to the American food store for proper American marshmallows, but I concluded it wasn't work the extra effort and cost.  The marshmallows, by the way, are for the cranberry salad and possibly the sweet potato casserole, and they just might be the ingredient that causes the most head-scratching amongst our friends down under.  

The item on the menu that is currently causing me the most misgivings, however, is the apple pie.  We are having pumpkin pie, of course, but since pumpkin pie is a dessert that is generally not very well appreciated outside of North America, I felt I should offer an alternative.  The problem with the apple pie is that I have ordered it from Costco.  The deed has been done, and I can no longer un-order it, but I am contemplating making one from scratch in the next couple of days to replace it. I am pretty sure my mother and grandmother never thought they would live to see the day when a descendent of theirs would order a bakery apple pie.  My grandmother and my mother, much as I hate to disappoint them however, are not even the main reason I might go to the extra effort.  Nor am I really thinking about my guests, all of whom have assured me that they will be happy to eat a bakery pie. The main reason would be my girls.

Earlier this year both girls were asked by their respective art teachers to consider what came to mind when they thought about the word home.  At Home was to be the theme of the art show at their school, and all the students in the various year levels contributed several items each to the show. What was fascinating to me, and what I did not realize until I showed up one day to tour the most impressive display, was that both girls, without discussing the topic with each other, chose the theme of apples for their artwork.  When I questioned them later about their choice, they both affirmed that they picked apples because of my mom, their grandmother, who often serves us homemade apple pie, and who has the apple motif running throughout her kitchen.  She is also famous world-wide for her applesauce, as is my grandmother, and indeed, the constant supply of homemade applesauce is one of the many things that we miss in Australia.

Here you have the famous cooks, and I have no doubt that when I took this photo nearly two years ago, I stopped them from cooking, quite possibly with apples:

Katie's primary contribution to the artshow was a pillow that she designed and stitched herself.  Here are a couple of photos of it that I took just now:

Next is a button, again designed by our eldest:

Following are some photos I took on the day of the art show.  The auditorium had been divided into various rooms, each designed around a particular room in a house.  Katie's pillow ended up in a living room.

For her primary contribution, Sophie designed a refrigerator magnet in the shape of an apple pie.  This from a girl who does not eat any kind of pie containing fruit, nor apples in any shape or form except in Grandma's special applesauce, but who decided that apple pie was what most made her think of home. 

Her artwork ended up, not surprisingly, in the kitchen area of the art show:

Just for fun, I found and scanned this picture of Sophie sitting in her papa's apple orchard when she was two years old:

Peaches and mangoes, not apples, are the fruits currently in season in Melbourne, but during a week when our thoughts are constantly drawn homeward, perhaps I should just hunt down a few and bake an apple pie.  

I would love to hear from some of you, my readers, either about what most makes you think of home, or about your plans for Thanksgiving.  Also, if anyone has a great stuffing recipe that does not contain sausage, please send me a link!  We will be waiting until Saturday for our feast so I still have a couple of days to locate a recipe. Wishing you all a very happy Thursday during this special week.

 

Comments

[Aubree Keys]

In case you're interested, the "Sweets on South" shop in the South Melbourne Market has American marshmallows. We used them for S'mores this past weekend while camping, and they are spot on. They even have the jumbo ones. Happy Thanksgiving!

[Christie Wilkin]

Thanks for the information on another place to find American marshmallows! I may just have to check it out tomorrow.

[Lisa Db3]

Oddly enough, while we were in Melbourne one of the things we experienced that made me think of home the most was your Thanksgiving dinner. Even though it was my first American Thanksgiving, experiencing it with your family and church brought me as close to Canada as I could have been. It was a great experience surrounding my favourite North American holiday that I won't soon forget. Thanks so much for that. Have a Happy Happy Thanksgiving :)

[Christie]

Thanks for that comment Lisa! That day (http://wilkincr.typepad.com/blog/2011/11/an-american-thanksgiving-in-oz.html) is quite possibly my favorite that I have spent in Melbourne thus far, and I am glad you were able to share it with us.

[Shanda]

Hi friend! I loved, loved, loved this post. Katie's pillow is perfectly wonderful, she did such a great job on that. And the button.
Sophie's pie magnet looks glossy and good enough to eat.
Apples. Yes, they bring a tear to my eye. I grew up on old farm land and we had old apple trees up the road. I used to take a brown paper bag and fill it up with those apples; there is nothing like them in the stores, sweet, tart, and crispy and wild tasting. Such fun to climb the trees to pick them! And trying to find the biggest ones!
My Grandma's apple pie recipe is one that always makes me feel homesick. It's SO good. I plan on sharing the recipe on my blog soon.

As for stuffing, we have a recipe that is quite simple. Tear a loaf or two of white bread into small pieces until you have a big bowlful (BIG), pour melted butter over top in which you have sauted onions and celery (no browning). Add plenty of salt and poultry seasoning to taste.

I miss you and think of you often.

[Christie Wilkin]

Thanks Shanda for the stuffing recipe. I look forward to your apple pie recipe! I ended up making Danish Apple Squares, and they were a big hit, but I need to try an actual pie next time I think.