Inspired by my 20-minute writing exercise around a “memorable holiday.”

Friends-giving.  This is a term that has been adopted by the masses but especially those celebrating a harvest holiday either in a new place or seeking ways to build their own traditions, with a chosen family.  When we first relocated to Toronto, Ontario, we learned that Canadian Thanksgiving is celebrated in a much more “appropriate” time for a harvest holiday, the 2^nd Monday in October.

We moved to Toronto about 6 weeks before Thanksgiving, 2016.  Alone in a new city, we started building some connections with our neighbours, especially the parents of the neighbour girls that our daughter instantly bonded with, and we decided to invite them to our home for Thanksgiving.  It was a beautiful sunny Monday.  Tim prepped the charcoal grill, as was his family tradition, and after putting the bird on, we took a little family stroll – Em on her scooter, Tim pushing the double stroller, as we played at the park and ate fresh scones from the bakery, feeling fully present and welcomed by this adopted land with it’s lovely parks, people and sunny Thanksgiving.

Contrary to my historical approach to holiday feasts, I was keeping it relatively easy.  I had made a pumpkin pie (using a store-bought crust and a can of pumpkin, of course).  I prepped some veggies, peeled potatoes, and made some “enhanced” Stove Top stuffing (enhanced with some diced onions, celery and carrots, which I sauteed in butter – but otherwise just following the box instructions).  In lieu of stressful, gourmet recipes that consumed days of prep, we were prepped for our meal in a couple hours, max, leaving us plenty of time to supervise the bird on the grill while enjoying a few beverages and corn hole in the driveway.

As a nod to my traditions, I put a lovely table cloth and some flowers on the table and we gathered for our first Friends-giving in Toronto.  A few takeaways we noted: 1. These Canadians ate far less than our American families; 2. I had to force left-overs on them; 3. Cleaning up after a feast with a shallow, tiny sink and no counter space is a bitch.

But a new tradition was born.  As the years continued, the invitees expanded: from 5 to around 30 guests, with many repeat visitors but always including new friends in the mix.  We had some memorable years, like the time when I tried to rush Tim and the charcoal grill got too hot, catching the entire bird on fire (briefly).  In the end all was well, and the turkey was as delicious as ever (we just removed the charred skin, which we typically did anyway), but it caused quite a show for our guests.

We also expanded the menu, accommodating pescatarians with Thanksgiving salmon (such a big hit we bought more the second year!), adding mushroom gravy to the mix (from a can – see earlier comment around keeping it easy), even discovering a new favourite recipe for chocolate, pumpkin oat cookies (gluten free and very tasty). 

But part of the joy was all of the contributions and family traditions of others.  Kishmar brought a bread with candied fruits, a tradition from Barbados.  Mark brought homemade scalloped potatoes, with potatoes cut paper thin and displayed like a cover feature from Gourmet magazine.  Madison, our teen babysitter stopped over with homemade chocolate chip cookies, still warm from her oven a few doors away.  Our friend Jay is forever chasing that perfect cookie moment – because it wasn’t just about the food, but rather the food was amplified by the company of friends (and likely the warm buzz of wine).

As the friends expanded, we moved the party outside – which worked well considering we’ve been very lucky, with Indian summer-like conditions.  Many Thanksgivings I’ve spent in my denim shorts, happily bouncing around to confirm the food is on track and encouraging people to top off their red solo cups at any of the home-brew taps.  The outside theme also worked well during the COVID years, with all of us laughing and trying to squeeze out enough fading light to finish our meals at mismatched tables in the driveway.

One of the years, the crazy gang of school mates decided it might be fun to feed our 9-year-old’s Betta fish and help “decorate” his tank.  Adding pieces of sea glass, crayons and cookies into his fish tank, did not make me (or, I assume, Bluey, the fish) very happy, and they were promptly kicked back outside.

In 2022 we had a large and joyful gang gathered.  After everyone was stuffed, some of us lingered around a campfire.  The children nestled inside for a movie and our friend Jen, a first-time Friends-giving participant, shared one of her Thanksgiving traditions.  She opened a book of Indigenous proverbs, instructing everyone to just flip to a page, read the 3-4 options noted, and then share a selected proverb with the circle – noting the tribe the proverb was attributed to, and describing why you felt a connection to that particular verse.

It was perfect: glowing light of the fire, sharing stories with friends, acknowledging those who came before us and all the wisdom we could glean from them and from each other.  We lingered late into the evening, not wanting to break this magic moment of calm connection we’d managed to stumble into.  Feeling full and blessed and thankful.