How to Do Thanksgiving When You Can't Really Do Thanksgiving

You can’t really recreate Thanksgiving abroad—not the chaos, not the rhythm, not the casseroles that should’ve stayed on the stove. But you can chase its spirit: warm food, shared effort, and a full table, however small. These are the dishes I make when the season shifts but the tradition doesn’t quite follow.

TL;DR:

This isn’t a traditional Thanksgiving post. There’s no turkey, no football, no airport meltdowns. Just a few French-sized recipes I like—mostly vegetarian, all doable in a small kitchen. Then some stories about Thanksgiving when I was working in NYC public schools, feeding a thousand kids and their families.

And: Thanksgiving only exists because of Sarah Josepha Hale, a 19th-century editor, abolitionist, and the woman who wrote Mary Had a Little Lamb.

Franksgiving?

I live in France now. They don’t do Thanksgiving—but they’re curious.

A friend asked if I had plans, in that French way people ask about holidays: vaguely hopeful, already dreaming of vin chaud and Christmas markets.

I said, Not really.

He looked a little let down. But for me, Thanksgiving was always more about the people, the timing, the rhythm. A holiday that tastes like nostalgia.

Still, I like it. Always have. Even if I’m not roasting a whole turkey or shoving three pies into a giant oven (I don’t have one), I still like to mark the day—with a few good recipes and a little pause.

No stand mixer needed. Most are vegetarian.

(Recipes first. Stories after. Hope you stick around.)

French-ish, Scaled-Down, (Mostly) Meatless

Some of these are old loyalties or comforts. Some I picked up in markets or conversations that wandered into food.

All are scaled to a small French kitchen: tiny stovetop, familiar ingredients, no pantry the size of a shipping container.

Warmth. Crunch. Garlic. Stuff you can make midweek or for a holiday table.

Each of these serves 2

bases/pantries

Lentilles à la Paysanne (Country-Style Lentils)
Base dish, endlessly adaptable, earthy, minerally, umami

• 1 cup green lentils (du Puy if you can find)
• 1 carrot, 1 celery stalk, 1 onion, all finely diced (mirepoix)
• 1 bay leaf, 1 thyme sprig
• Optional: a splash of red wine, vinegar, or a bit of miso or gojujang at the end

Sauté veg in oil until soft. Add lentils, herbs, cover with water. Simmer until tender (25–30 min). Season well, stir in something acidic or funky at the end. You can add wilted spinach, roasted squash, or a poached egg on top if you want more of a main.

Salads

Warm Radicchio & Walnut Salad
Sauté a sliced shallot in olive oil until just soft. Add chopped radicchio and toss quickly—let it darken, but keep some bite. A splash of balsamic and a dab of Dijon cut the bitterness. Top with toasted walnuts. Serve warm.

This also works well with most bitter greens or for any warm dressing. I sometimes add a round of chevre or a slice of whatever blue cheese I have on hand.

1 small shallot or 1/4 red onion, thinly sliced

• Handful of walnuts, toasted
• Olive oil, balsamic vinegar, Dijon mustard, salt

Sautéed Dandelion Greens with Garlic & Chili

You can still find dandelion or wild chicory this time of year all over the place. Get a lot – it cooks down.

• A big bunch of dandelion greens (or young chicory), washed and roughly chopped
• 2 cloves garlic, sliced
• Pinch of dried chili or Espelette
• Olive oil, lemon

Blanch greens briefly if tougher. Sauté garlic and chili in oil, add greens and toss until tender. Finish with lemon juice and salt. Eat with bread or over mashed potatoes or polenta.

what can I bring?

Fast dishes with stuff the guests can bring. These are done in 15 minutes

Green Beans: France vs. Long Island

Haricots Verts Sautés à l’Ail

· A big handful of thin green beans, fresh or frozen

· Olive oil or butter

· 1–2 garlic cloves, minced or grated on a microplane (fast, easy cleanup)

· Salt, pepper, squidge of lemon

Blanch beans in salted water, 30 seconds tops. Sauté garlic in oil or butter, add drained beans, toss to coat. Let them get a bit of color, then finish with salt and a splash of lemon.

Butter is best, lemon is best.

Green Beans, Long Island Potluck Style

It’s from Costco - in a good way.

· 1 bag frozen green beans

· 1 stick butter

· A ton of garlic (4 cloves minimum), minced

· A whole can of fried onions

The chopped or broken bean are best for this. You want these to squeak a bit – in the pan, in your mouth.

Dump green beans into a pan with butter and garlic, until bright, or maybe past that, but squeaky is kind of key. Pile into a dish, top with canned fried onions, serve. There are people who will insist on making your own fried onions, but I’m not interested.

French-ly Braised Cabbage

• Half a head of white cabbage, shredded
• 1 small onion, thinly sliced
• 2 tbsp butter or oil
• 1 splash white wine or cider
• Salt, pepper, bay leaf, thyme

Sauté onion in butter until soft. Add cabbage, season with salt and herbs. Stir until wilted, siome browning or even char is best. Deglaze with wine. Cover and simmer 20–25 min until tender. Uncover last few minutes to let any liquid reduce.

Salads

Warm Radicchio & Walnut Salad
Sauté a sliced shallot in olive oil until just soft. Add chopped radicchio and toss quickly—let it darken, but keep some bite. A splash of balsamic and a dab of Dijon cut the bitterness. Top with toasted walnuts. Serve warm.

This works well with most bitter greens & for any warm dressing. Add a round of chevre or a slice of whatever blue cheese you have.

1 small shallot or 1/4 red onion, thinly sliced

• Handful of walnuts, toasted
• Olive oil, balsamic vinegar, Dijon mustard, salt

Baked stuff

If you’ve got time.

Rutabaga (or Turnip) Gratin for Two
• 1 medium rutabaga or 2–3 small turnips, thinly sliced (peel only if tough or waxed)
• 1 small shallot, minced
• 150ml cream
• 1 tsp Dijon mustard
• Salt, pepper, nutmeg
• A little grated Cantal or Comté

Butter a small baking dish. Layer veg, shallot, salt, and pepper. Whisk cream, mustard, nutmeg; pour over. Top with cheese. Bake at 180°C ~40 min—covered for the first 30, uncovered to brown.

Old School Baked Ziti

To make it vegetarian, swap the meat for mushrooms, lentils, or TVP with extra seasoning. Or skip it for a red sauce-and-cheese thing.

Shake the pan to settle—don’t press it flat. More edges, more crunch.

Ingredients

• Olive oil
• 1 medium onion, chopped
• 3 garlic cloves, minced
• 1 lb ground beef or Italian sausage
• 1 28 oz can whole or crushed tomatoes
• 1 tsp dried oregano
• Red pepper flakes, salt, pepper
• 1 lb pasta, cooked very al dente
• ¾ lb shredded mozzarella
• ⅔ cup grated pecorino or parmesan

Method
Heat oven to 400°F (200°C).
Cook pasta 2 minutes shy of done; reserve ½ cup pasta water.

Sauté onion, garlic, and meat in olive oil with oregano and chili until browned (6–8 minutes). Add tomatoes, simmer 5 minutes. Loosen with pasta water if thick. Stir in pasta, heat a minute.

Layer half in a baking dish, add half the cheeses, then repeat. Bake 30 minutes. Broil at the end if you want the top to go wild.

Serve with extra red sauce. Make your own, or at least improve the jarred stuff.

& I don’t call it gravy.

Gravy is brown.

Friendsgiving

I like Thanksgiving, I really do. We used to host a friendsgiving most years—just an excuse to gather people from around the city who wanted a good meal and some company, without the psychic trauma of holiday travel.

A potluck table, a lot of wine, someone with store-bought pies, someone else with green beans drowned in garlic, butter, and a can of fried onions. (I loved those green beans.)

But the part I miss most isn’t the food.

It’s the rhythm—the way Thanksgiving hit just when you needed it. That first real break after the full-speed, no-breath sprint of the American school year. Ten relentless weeks of lesson plans, hallway noise, grading marathons.

Then, finally, a long weekend with too much food and too many people and the strange relief of it all. Sometimes it was the first time I’d been social in weeks.

Brooklyn

And if you worked in schools long enough, you knew Thanksgiving wasn’t just a holiday—it was something held together by everyone, whether they had much or not.

This wasn’t everywhere, I know. But I worked in Title I schools, where a lot of kids wouldn’t have a Thanksgiving meal at home. Families were stretched thin, but people still brought it all together, just because somebody asked.

We had a massive, chaotic potluck that filled all three floors of the school. Over a thousand middle schoolers and their families. Plátanos, arroz con gandules, baked ziti, bagged salads, pizza. The kids served the food. My cooking club ran a kind of half-serious brigade system—more giggling.

And the parents stayed. They let the kids take the lead. They watched them feed each other.

Dishes from everywhere: plátanos, arroz con gandules, baked ziti, biryani, bagged salads, pizza, many mystery casseroles. One mother always brought something she called “Goddammit, these kids are gonna eat broccoli.”

And the kids did.

Some of the best Bengali food I’ve had came from that lunchroom. One teacher made the same cranberry sauce every year—walnuts, weird texture, ignored. Someone always brought Hawaiian rolls.

There were no speeches. No program. Just food. Everywhere.

For an afternoon…

Nobody skips a meal.

Nobody does without.

You’re wanted. You belong here.

You can get seconds after everybody gets firsts.

Everybody cleans.

And in that moment, you knew you had create a community.

Again.

And this is what I think of when I think of Thanksgiving, even though all of the family stuf was great.

musical side dish

Mary Had a little Lamb - Buddy Guy (1968)

(I swear, the song is relevant. Read on)

Buddy Guy’s 1968 version of Mary Had a Little Lamb turned the nursery rhyme into a slick electric blues track. A giant of Chicago blues, his intense, expressive playing shaped rock guitar as we know it—long before Clapton or Hendrix. His version bends tradition without losing the thread, which feels about right.

Clapton, who often cited Guy as a major influence, borrowed from his phrasing, tone, and fire. Where Guy innovated & pushed boundaries, Clapton publicized & brought that sound to a wider audience.

Leftovers

It’s an odd thing that Thanksgiving exists at all.

It didn’t evolve organically—it was lobbied for.

Sarah Josepha Hale, a 19th-century magazine editor, abolitionist, and early advocate for women’s education, spent decades lobbying for a national day of thanks.

She published editorials, pestered governors, and wrote to five presidents. She created menus to show what it would be like.

Lincoln finally gave in, mid–Civil War. It wasn’t about harvest—it was about unity. A shared pause, however fragile.

Of all the hills to die on, she chose Thanksgiving.

She’s the reason we have it.

Hale was one of the most influential editors of her century. She ran Godey’s Lady’s Book for over 40 years, shaping the domestic lives of middle-class Americans—what they cooked, read, wore, and celebrated. She pushed for women’s education, historic preservation, and the Thanksgiving holiday she imagined as a unifying ritual. She also wrote “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” among other poems, but that was her hit single.

Her power wasn’t political—it was cultural. She understood how home life could stitch a country together.

And after nearly half a century, what Americans love about their traditions is what she built: the illusion that they were always there.

This happens a lot in history.