{Turkey cupcakes from Sugar Daze!}

Thanksgiving never used to mean all that much to me. Growing up in a family of vegetarians basically ruled out any possibility of a traditional turkey feast and so we did the unthinkable – we went out to dinner. Surprisingly, we were not the only ones committing Thanksgiving blasphemy. We went to the same, relatively formal restaurant every year for as long as I can remember. With crackling fireplaces , creaky wood floors and twinkle lights strung about, the place felt like a cozy country home which made it easier to accept that I was the only one among my friends who wasn’t sitting down to a gargantuan homemade holiday spread. The warm and inviting dining rooms were filled with families dressed in their finest and on their best behavior, smiling widely, raising their wine glasses in joyous celebration and regaling in loads upon loads of carbs.

Our table, however, was a bit more dysfunctional. Since my parents never prepared meat or poultry in the house, I turned my nose at turkey (fussy eater) and usually opted for some kind of creamy veggie pasta along with the rest of my family. Criminal, really.

Arguments with my sister were commonplace and I inevitably ended up in trouble for something at each of these outings. But I always kept my eyes on the prize – the divine slice of pumpkin pie with whipped cream, served by our sweet French waiter, which would complete the meal and efface any lingering hostility I may have felt. Every year went this way and I confess, I didn’t have a real turkey dinner with all the accoutrements (and subsequent lethargy) until last year. In Paris, no less.

Although ingredients like pecans and cranberries in Paris might be expensive, our oven too small to fit a full-sized turkey, and our apartment just a tad too snug to fit more than a handful of people around a table, I’ve begun to create new memories and the holiday has started to take on meaning. I still think fondly of those years dressing up for an evening out, the excitement of getting to practice my French with the only Frenchman in the state of Pennsylvania, and the dependable comfort of family time, even if it sometimes ended in pouting. Here, we make do with what and who we have and it feels more like what I would imagine most traditional Thanksgivings to be. 

But the thanks and celebrations just keep on coming. Tomorrow, one of my American friends is getting married to her longtime French boyfriend and I’ll be translating the ceremony for her and for her non French speaking family members. Each time I go to a wedding in one of the gorgeous city halls of Paris it immediately takes me back to my own wedding. I’m excited to be part of the wedding tomorrow because I know how much her life is going to change from that point forward and hopefully, it will be for the better. 

I hope everyone had a lovely Thanksgiving and happy weekend to all.

**Judging by a few comments, my story gave the impression that I’m a vegetarian. I am not – I was simply raised in a household of vegetarians who did not prepare meat or poultry so I would only eat it when we would go out to restaurants but even then, my palette was very limited! Sorry for the confusion!  

{adapted from the post “An Unconventional Thanksgiving” originally appeared on BitchBuzz.com}