Farther From Home, Closer to Turkey

Thanksgiving evening in Iraq. As the last bit of cornbread batter sizzles and crackles in the frying pan, the homey aroma of cooking oil wafts through the apartment, and Julie Andrews' voice sings enchantingly, clear and sweet, from my mac. A feeling of tranquility falls over me, despite the fact that it is a lonelier Thanksgiving than most. I'm cooking alone in my little kitchen, whereas in the past few Turkey Days, cooking had been a team effort. Jess holding down the 20-lb turkey, Sarah wielding the needle and injecting the bird with oil like a crazed medic, and me stuffing it with garlic chunks. 

This year, at the school, the main course (the turkey) will be provided by the school cafeteria along with some side dishes, and the Americans will provide the rest, potluck-style. What could be easier than cornbread? I had thought as I glanced through the recipe online yesterday. Today though, as I stand in front of the elevator door holding the baking pan with both hands, the pale liquid batter sloshing precariously along the sides, I can't help being slightly worried about its outcome. I'd been unable to find the main ingredient that makes cornbread “cornbread”- the cornmeal- and had to settle for corn flour. According to the others, the two products, though similarly named, are totally different, and a cake made of corn flour was a recipe for disaster, not for Grandma's Famous Buttermilk Cornbread. 

But given no alternatives, I had decided to go ahead with the corn flour, and so there I stood waiting for the elevator that would take me upstairs to the 3rd floor restaurant, listening to the voices of my co-workers echoing through the hallways above, and wondering if burnt milk had a terribly overpowering taste. It had frothed over my pan like a rabid dog when I left it unattended in order to prepare my corn flour. A couple minutes later, my bowl of homemade buttermilk likewise frothed over as I added the baking soda, spilling foul-smelling acidified milk all over my kitchen floor. 

Before I could ponder these near-disasters any further, though, my reflection split in two and I stepped carefully into the elevator, trying not to slosh the batter. As the elevator crawled upwards, I studied my reflection in the mirror and noted that the redness of my eyes had returned with a vengeance. The New Yorker keeps saying that I look high as a kite, though I've smoked nothing more than some shisha since I've gotten here. Once again, I'd like to express my wish that our eyes, like our teeth, came in sets of two. Wouldn't it be cool if our “baby eyes” fell out when we reached say our mid-20's, and were naturally replaced by a brand new set of adult eyeballs? Our teeth are weird that way.

My teeth in particular grew out in fairly decent shape- not too big, not too ragged. But I've discovered that my teeth are rather big, by Middle Eastern standards. My friend here calls them “rabbit teeth” (with affection, I assume!). He himself, like many Middle Easterners, has very small, badly cared-for teeth. The importance of dental hygiene has yet to reach this corner of the world. 

Anyway, dental tangent aside, upstairs, I stuck the baking pan in the only oven we have in the apartment complex, beneath two delicious-looking pumpkin pies made by the lady with the cats. (One of them died- one of her cats, not her pies- and its feline corpse lies buried in the small garden plot in front of her balcony.) Later, when I came up for the dinner a little late, everyone was already gathered around in a circle holding hands and doing the cheesy Thanksgiving thang- what are you thankful for? When it came around to my turn, I said the first things that popped into my mind- first, my co-workers, then Little Liya, and then the edible appearance of my cornbread- which ended up dec, and even drew some compliments! Despite being quite starchy/chewy in the middle.

Here's to giving things a go, even when disaster looms hairily close! We must trust in that quantum possibility that things will turn out ok. This is my faith- aha! Finally I have an answer to that question! Do you believe in God? No, but I do believe in quantum mechanics! But really it's just a projection of my faith in myself onto some external theory. I wonder if all faith is just a projection of faith in oneself onto a separate entity to make the task at hand seem momentarily less daunting? It's a temporary shifting of burden.

The rest of the dinner was great! Unfortunately, the one Iraqi who could understand English failed to understand the meaning of Thanksgiving (”I don't get it, I just don't get it! Isn't this the holiday where your forefathers murdered a bunch of innocent people and stole their land and...why would you celebrate such a thing???”). Only a couple of the Lebanese staff came, but all the Brits came, just as we attended their Guy Fawkes Night festivities a few weeks ago, and so did the Canadians, and one of the Pakistanis even came bearing her famous rice dish. 

All in all, Turkey Day 2008 was a very international affair, and I was impressed that we were able to find the fixings for a traditional Thanksgiving feast here in Erbil: we had the turkey, mashed potatoes, starchy cornbread with chili and mac&cheese, corn with white sauce, and 2 absolutely fabulous homemade pumpkin pies made from real pumpkin! And besides that, we had the non-traditional fares: pasta salad, poppyseed loaf, a scrumptious chocolate cake, roasted chestnuts, and Pakistani rice. What we missed: cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes, and the all-important stuffing! Too bad they don't sell Stovetop around here- I love Stovetop! And last but not least, what I missed: my green-capped bottle of cock sauce. Oh Sriracha! It's all about you, isn't it?

Gobble Gobble to All,

Archimedes