RR: I hate it! I think that it is a disaster! In a society that
doesn't cook as much as it used to, the holiday is our opportunity to be
in a home. And there is no way that a restaurant is ever going to be a
home.
Yes, you may avoid the tension and the fights, but you also lose
the moments and traditions that define a particular family. For example,
your aunt's cooking: "Oh, God, she's going to bring that terrible
casserole she always brings and nobody's going to eat it." It's so
sterile to go to a hotel and pay someone to put your food on the
table.
I hate this trend of having children's birthday parties away from
people's homes, too. They're held in bowling alleys or fast-food halls.
What are we telling our children? "Let's not show anybody our messy
house."
PT: "Let's let no one in." It's really a barricaded approach to
life.
RR: Exactly. There's a kind of bravery in inviting people into your
house and knowing they can criticize you. "The house is a mess, the
silver hasn't been polished. Did you see that tablecloth? And that
food!"
Still, it's an offering on your part: "I'll share who I am with
you." The idea that we don't have the courage anymore to be that naked
with people, to show them that part of ourselves is a very bad
sign.
PT: What about the idea of having the meal in your home, but having
all or portions of it catered?
RR: How hard is it to put a turkey in the oven, for crying out
loud? One of the great things about the Thanksgiving meal is that it's
extremely easy to cook. It's been road tested for a hundred years.
Now obviously, there are things you aren't going to make, maybe the
salad dressing, maybe the pies. But it seems to me that you ought to cook
something.
PT: You've written that when you were growing up, you went home for
the holidays but hated them. What were they like?
RR: At Hanukkah we couldn't find the menorah, ever. At Christmas,
every year we'd have to buy a new stand for the tree because we couldn't
find the old one. And the food was always a disaster. My mother just
couldn't get it right.
One of the things that you want with a holiday is the sense,
especially with Thanksgiving, that you belong to America. My mother would
forget obvious things like the gravy. And the turkey would come out raw
because she was so terrified of over-cooking it.
My mother, who was manic-depressive, also had a terrible time with
organization. So we would be frantically running around the house trying
to clean it up two seconds before people would arrive. It was a
nightmare.
On the other hand, I'm glad we had those holidays. Much as I
resented having to go home for them and would think of any excuse on
earth not to, when I think about my family, what do I think about? I
think about these family events. That is my family, dysfunctional as it
was.
PT: Is there a difference for you, psychologically, between
Thanksgiving and Christmas?
RR: Yes. Christmas is problematic.
PT: In what way?
RR: Well, it's a Christian ritual in a nation that is not entirely
Christian. I tend to think of it as an ecumenical holiday myself, and we
always celebrated Christmas when I was growing up. I am Jewish, but we
didn't really celebrate Hanukkah. We meant to every year, but we never
did! But every Christmas morning when I was growing up, we had matzo for
breakfast.
PT: That's one way of adapting the holiday. Do ethnic groups have
special ways of changing American holidays?
RR: If you ask people what they had for Thanksgiving when they were
growing up, they usually say, "I had what everybody else has." But when
you question them closely, it turns out that every culture adapts the
holiday to incorporate some of their own foods.
So you'll find that a lot of Chinese-Americans will stuff the
turkey with sticky rice, water chestnuts and shitake mushrooms. Many
Mexican-Americans stuff the bird with corn bread and jalapenos. Native
Americans often use wild turkeys.
There are all kinds of little signposts on people's Thanksgiving
table that give away who they are. Christmas is much the same, and even
Easter has become an American food holiday
PT: What's the distinction in your mind between eating out and
eating at home? What should be the difference?
RR: Restaurants should be for a grander experience. They should
give you something you can't get at home. You can pretend that you're
rich if you're going to a very fancy restaurant. You can learn about a
culture if you're going to a Chinese restaurant. For me, going to a
restaurant means playing out a fantasy.
Eating at home, on the other hand, above all else should be
comfortable. That means being able to put your elbows on the table and
spend a really long time at the table. It's about not having to worry
that other diners are waiting for you to leave.
One of the great things about having people to your home is that
you have that luxury of time, of space, of not clearing the table, of
saying, "Well, maybe we won't eat right now. Maybe we'll just talk. I'll
take the food out of the oven for now and we'll eat later."
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