Happy St. Kevin's Day

I volunteer in Pippa's class for a Thanksgiving Day presentation, complete with art supplies so the kids can make handprint turkeys. One of the girls tells her mom, my friend Béatrice, that they learned about St. Kevin's Day at school. Béatrice keeps (jokingly) wishing me a Happy St. Kevin's Day, which at first I think may be a real holiday, since every day, literally, is a Saint day in France.

 

(The little red guy underneath Pippa's hand turkey is saying "Help! You're eating my friend. Which is a turkey!!" And this is our carniverous child.)

 

In fact, we can't celebrate Thanksgiving on the real day, November 22, because there is a special mass and celebration for Catherine, the school's patron saint. By the same token, Saturday Nov 24th is out, because the school holds their annual parents' dinner in her honor.

 

It turns out that while each day is devoted to saint something or other -- be it Clémence, Séverin, or François-Xavier -- "Kevin" (which the French consider the ultimate stereotype of an American  name) is just not one of them. When I finally ask Béatrice why she keeps wishing me a Happy St. Kevin's Day, she explains that's what her 7-year old daughter hears during my classroom presentation:

 

     Thanksgiving =

     Sank-givin =

     Saint-Kevin

 

And if you say that all with a French accent --  because it's hard for the French to say "th" -- you will see that it actually does sound a lot alike. It makes perfect sense!

 

On Friday night, sandwiched between real Thanksgiving and the school parent supper, we are invited for a Thanksgiving with an international crowd at the home of some American friends. It's a classic dinner except for two things: in order to fit the whole turkeys in the oven, they had to go all Mark Bittman and remove the bones before roasting. And there is channah masalah at the table, though that last is actually due to another American guest, of Indian origin.

 

 

 

But we need to host our own Thanksgiving so that we can a) invite our friends Béatrice, H-O and kids, and b) have leftovers. Turkey Day, the Sequel, turns out to be this weekend. We can't fit a whole turkey in our oven, either, and we're not about to spatchcock it (Bittman's method). But turkey leg-thigh sections and breast-roasts are surprisingly easy to find at the Monoprix, so I just roast my turkey in pieces. Thanks to all the foreigners around, the Monoprix even sells cranberries during the holiday season. And sweet potatoes are everywhere, despite the fact that I don't actually know any French people who buy, cook, eat, or like sweet potatoes. 

 

 

Our menu: turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, sweet-potato souffle, cranberry-orange sauce, brussel sprouts, sausage-apricot stuffing, and apple crumble for dessert. Because I don't like pumpkin pie.

 

This is the first Thanksgiving for our friends and their five (yes five) kids. It is the second for us this year alone. But it's our first-ever St. Kevin's Day. May St. Kevin, the patron saint of cranberry sauce and gravy, watch over you and your turkeys.