Canadian Thanksgiving, American Thanksgiving

There are many Americans who don't realize that Canada even has a Thankgiving, let alone that we would have the audacity to celebrate it on a separate date than they do. But there's a handful of Americans living in northern Pennsylvania and New York State who look forward to Canadian Thanksgiving eagerly every year.

When my father's brother moved to Manhattan about 50 years ago, his wonderful wife Kate was delighted to discover an entirely new national holiday that gave her one more excuse to gather the family together for an elaborate feast.

Thus was born a longstandng tradition whereby all the Canadian and American relatives convene for the Canadian Thanksgiving weekend at the family cottage on Silver Lake, Pennsylvania, just south of Binghamton, NY. Above, the stage is set: the tiny kitchen that will serve up dinner for 20, or 30, or 40 is ready for action, and an astonishing amount and range of food will come off that one little table.

The surrounding countryside is gorgeous with fall colours; wild deer and turkeys stroll about in the field, and the farm stands are replete with pumpkins, homemade pies and lovely fragrant New York apples, like Empire, Jonogold, Honeycrisp and Cortland. (I have always assumed the latter are named for the town called Cortland, which is about 45 minutes up the road from Binghamton.)

This year, one turkey was roasted and a second one was deep-fried. Here, the menfolk consult over doneness, in a spare moment between the baking of pumpkin pies, the boiling of potatoes, the mashing of turnips, and the chopping, chopping, chopping, chopping of vegetables.

The Canadian aspect of the celebration is always at the forefront. We sing both national anthems before dinner, as well as the harvest hymn "We Gather Together". There are always a few Canadian wines and beers on offer. Last year, I made sugar pie. This year I brought down some mini Coffee Crisps, which are essentially unknown south of the border.

Cousin Martha has followed in her mother's footsteps as grand marshall of the preparations, and she arrives with the same kind of manila folder full of menus and seating plans that she uses at work to organize international conferences. In the photo above she has paused long enough to be photographed as she arranges starters on the buffet table.

There's a last-minute flurry in the kitchen. Diners are herded towards the tables; the kitchen is swept, gravy is made, and both turkeys await carving. Martha's brother Dan cannot be kept still long enough for a clear picture at this point; having successfully deep-fried one of the turkeys, he is still in the full spate; much remains to be done.

Incidentally, it would be difficult to know whether more turkey is actually eaten off plates in the dining room or by hand, directly off the cutting board in the kitchen.

Somehow, it comes together. The guests, many oblivious to kitchen dramas unfolding only a few feet away from the laden buffet, begin to heap their plates with cabbage, carrots, potatoes and turnips and turkey with gravy, cranberry jelly, cranberry sauce and (of course!) stuffing.

Eventually even the cooks are able to stop, dust the flour off their clothes, straighten their hair and join the lineup around the table. Surely that's Martha who's helping herself to a well deserved plate?

This year there was a small and manageable crowd of only 28 or so. Some years there have been 45 diners packed around a few trestle tables. For a brief time, there's silence as everyone tucks in. Many will have room for pie (rhubarb, apple, pumpkin, peach – some homemade and some meltingly delicious from the farm stand up the road.)

The next morning, with dishes washed and leftovers wrapped and apportioned out (and after a delicous diner breakfast courtesy of uncle Alec, the founder of the feast), the Canadians will depart for the long ride back to Toronto or Ottawa or their dorm room. As for the Americans? Well of course they'll gear up to do it all again in November.