Thanksgiving in France

George and I try to hold onto some American traditions in our lives even though our life has changed so much since living in France. But from time to time we just throw up our hands, because there is not much else you can do.

In our area, buying greeting cards, shopping on Saturday nights or Sundays, not to mention shopping over the lunch period (I say period instead of "lunch hour" because lunch breaks can be 1 to 2 hours where stores close) and receiving good customer service almost doesn't exist.

The French aren't greeting card senders like us, so it is a challenge if not impossible to find the appropriate card for the appropriate occasion. Oh Hallmark, where are you when I need you. The stores close on Saturday night at 7:00, 8:00 if you are extremely lucky. We have experienced this last minute shopping frenzy akin to the day before Christmas (no exaggeration here) when everyone is trying to get what they need before that final hour on Saturday! On Sundays 99.9% of the stores are closed, except, of course, the bread stores. And if you are without a receipt when returning a purchase, you will not get a refund or store credit. These simple things are frustrating to us, but we have adjusted.

I have never seen whole turkeys in the supermarket, plenty of other foul; duck, chicken, coq, pigeon, etc. So when it came time to search for a turkey for Thanksgiving dinner, my American friend Michele who has lived in France for a long time said, you will have to order it. And so a week before our dinner I did just that. Consulting my French tutor on how to order the the whole turkey instead of the parts was my next step. In fact, I have never seen anything but turkey breast in the supermarket, so it is a mystery where the other parts of the turkey go.

George and I headed to the supermarket on Saturday to pickup the said bird but to our disappointment, there was no bird to pickup. We were told through a broken translation that the bird would be available on Sunday (it never dawned on us that the store is not open on Sunday). Our plea that we have 7 persons coming for dinner in six hours prompted them to tell us they would call the farmer and perhaps the farmer could deliver said bird to our house. George and I left the supermarket and waited patiently for a ring at the door, a phone call, or email letting us know where-is-the-frick'n bird! At this point can you tell that our patience is beginning to run thin!

During this waiting time, we were wondering several things: 1) is the turkey the farmer's bringing, going to be alive. Picture us chasing a bird around our fenced in yard, George with machete in hand, me helping to corner the darn thing, 2) is the turkey the farmer's bringing, going to be dead, but with feathers and insides intact. Uh, okay what do we do now? Get the hot water boiling! Sue, here's the knife, you have experience with hunting, right...uh, yeah, thanks George 3) the turkey the farmer's bringing, is going to be the freshest we have every had!

As it turned out we received no phone call, no email, and no farmer with bird in hand at our door.

So back to the supermarket I go, George staying home in case there was the slimmest of chances that the farmer was still coming.

But as it turned out I was told upon my return to the supermarket that whole turkeys are not available until mid-December, the girl who took my original order did not know this. Whole turkeys are only sold and cooked nearer to Christmas, at least in our area of France. So we ended up with roasted chicken and turkey breast. So next Thanksgiving, we will be throwing the traditional turkey idea to the wind and who knows what will be cooking in the Strohmaier kitchen.