Everything but the Cranberry Sauce

In any given Cambodian village you would NOT find turkey, cranberry sauce, butter, milk, an oven, pie crust, wheat flour, cheese, brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, casserole dishes, canned corn, rosemary, or an electric mixer. Now, I know what you’re thinking: Thanksgiving is doomed. But this year, I was determined not to let the holiday pass with a stir-fried substitute. The whole idea presented a logistical nightmare. Thursday was out of the question because the NGO I volunteer at just moved to a new—fantastic –but still very unorganized location, which basically means my life is in absolute chaos. But maybe more importantly was the question of food. I convinced Tara to come up to my site, bringing with her all the necessary goodies from Phnom Penh that we couldn’t hope to find here (although a small store in town JUST started stocking cereal this past week, which is a huge upgrade from the usual prok-and-rice breakfast!). We set the date for Saturday, and she Christian, and two other volunteers who live at my site began preparing for the feast. So what do you get when 3 Peace Corps volunteers, a Belgian, and a Canadian set out to make Thanksgiving dinner in a wooden hut without an oven? A Thanksgiving dinner that was just like home –with everything but the cranberry sauce.

We spent all day Saturday wandering around the open-air market finding all the ingredients Tara wasn’t brining from Phnom Penh and the biggest chicken we could find, which ended up being only slightly larger than a Cornish hen. Anne was in charge of the chicken because in Belgium they cook whole chickens and turkeys in a pan without the aid of an oven. Score! I was in charge of mashed potatoes, stuffing, and gravy. Don’t worry mom, I didn’t tell anyone your secret recipe for cow-pie consistency potatoes. Tara was brining canned corn and concocting a delicious green bean casserole with onion rings and alfredo sauce. Who knew!? Christian had the sweet potatoes and pumpkin-pudding-mud-pie. David was in charge of lighting and keeping the charcoal clay burner under control. And last, but not least, we all pitched in a little love to make mulled wine.

Naturally, the whole process to about 10 times longer than it would in the States, and we ended up eating around 9:00 at night, but the wait was worth it!! Everything tasted the way it should, with a few substitutes and quick fixes along the way, and by the end of the night we were all unbuttoning our top pants button and kicking up our feet. In a word: success! We all crashed together in the NGO’s volunteer house and went to sleep dreaming of sugar plums dancing in our heads.

As if the weekend could get any better, on Saturday Christian cooked us a traditional Mexican feast complete with quesadillas, homemade salsa and queso dip, chicken flautas (my absolute all-time favorite Mexican dish), and Spanish rice. He taught us all how to make everything so I promise to cook all the Clinton Tex-Mex veterans the “real thing” once I return!
Although we spent most of the weekend pigging out, as we walked back to my house after dinner on Sunday night underneath a full harvest moon, I couldn’t help but feel it was a real Thanksgiving in more ways than just the menu. I’m especially thankful for my blessings here, where I am reminded daily of what it means to have less by simply looking at my neighbors. I am especially thankful for my friends here who helped me miss my family less and have become like family members in more ways than one. And I am thankful to know my family is at home, safe, happy, and healthy and unbuttoning their top buttons too.

Gobble, gobble, gobble!