It was a dinner that began with a near-disastrous dump of the turkey on the not-too-clean kitchen floor and ended with something called hokey-pokey ice cream. In other words, it was perfect.
Thanksgiving in Beijing has been much covered in the press this week. Read to the very end here and also check out this (item #12).
So what could I possibly add to that cornucopia of fun, goodwill, love for all creatures, and excess?
Well, there was the sight of my dear husband studying up on his Chinese so he could explain to Li Na, Lingling’s adorable mother, the whole Hanukkah, festival of lights theme before our party began. I believe he looked up the words for freedom, rebellion, and some other terms that are not commonly bandied about in the Middle Kingdom. And there was three-year-old Marco, who discovered he had a stash of stuffed animals hidden here, causing him to toss toys across the floor wantonly. And then there were two babes in arms, adorable two-month-old Gianna and adorable three-month-old Dou Dou, who we decided should marry some day and make ultra-adorable babies. There were my Beijing son and daughter, both happy to have a real American meal in a setting that they described as “not China.” There were some issues with my overheating the sweet-potato latkes, and with forgetting (I’ll admit it now) to strain out the rosemary from the pear-rosemary pie, but in general, the whole durn thing was a blast.
Here are some fun photos of the days leading up to the big feast, plus the feast.
|The lovely couple who sold me my Thanksgiving turkey.|
|The lovely lady who sold me apples and pears.|