This was our first November in Qatar and we weren’t quite sure how we would be celebrating Thanksgiving. Our schedule wasn’t set in stone until late in the month so we were glad that some Americans we met right after we moved here called to ask whether we would be interested in getting together for the holiday. We of course said yes and offered to bring our usual dishes - giblet gravy, pecan pie, cranberry sauce, a green bean casserole and rolls. I offered to make mashed potatoes for twenty people and she said not to worry that her maid makes wonderful mashed potatoes and would take care of it. So plans were made and the menu was set.
A few days later our new next-door neighbors invited us to their house for a Thanksgiving celebration the night before the American Thanksgiving - warning us ahead of time that everyone spoke Spanish. We again said we would love to attend and would bring giblet gravy, cranberry sauce, and a dessert. She said yes they needed a gravy. She also requested four chairs and bottle of white wine, which for the first time in our lives, we actually had on hand. I again offered to make mashed potatoes and was told not to worry that someone else was bringing potatoes.
Our first mistake was assuming that we would be able to find pie shells and traditional western rolls in this land of incredible bakers (they probably don’t sell them in Paris either), the second was not buying the fried onions that we both remembering laughing at somewhere on a random grocery store shelf and then never able to find them again, third was assuming that gravy means the same thing to a Latin as it does to a southerner, and our fourth was making an early unscheduled stop at our favorite bakery here – The Lebanese Bakery on Salwa Road. We actually left with more for us to eat at home in three days than we had planned to take to both dinners - and the smallest tray of sweets that they sell – since they sell these by the kilo – there is no such thing as a small tray.
The Lebanese Bakery reminds me of the original Gambinos Bakery in New Orleans. You know when you enter that it has been around for a while and the guys that work there seem to take great pride in what they sell. There are always people flying in and out of the parking lot and several times, we have seen young men in chef clothes buying piles of the Arab bread. There are way too many Middle Eastern sweets, different breads – there is always a rack of freshly baked Arabic bread – and a counter full of beautifully decorated cookies – some tied with ribbon in little boxes and many beautifully decorated cakes. We assumed the golden ones were butterscotch but when we asked we were told they were mango. I can’t wait to try one.
Both hostesses called when they defrosted their turkeys and we picked up the giblets. I have never ever seen giblets this large – the necks were almost four inches in diameter and had lots of meat – all of the rest of the giblet parts were the largest I have ever seen. Then we planned our shopping trip knowing that this usually involving at least two stores. The pie shell search was a total failure, the onions on the top of the green bean casserole were going to be a challenge and we were disgustingly elated when we found both kinds of cranberry sauce on an end shelf at Megamarket. On one pass through the mega parking lot – we did see a brand new maroon Mercedes with the sun roof open with a gorgeous three or four year old girl in dark purple spangly cowboy boots standing on the console with her head sticking through the sunroof. Her father in full national dress, sunglasses and cell phone to ear was driving. I kept waiting for her to do the Miss America wave!
Early afternoon my husband delivered the chairs next door and after some (seriously I swear) discussion between he and Jannette (our next-door neighbor and hostess) about how to mark the chairs so we would know which were ours and which were theirs, we all had a good laugh as all of the villas here have exactly the same furniture and who would ever know which chairs were which and more importantly who would care! While they were moving chairs, I asked her again about the mashed potatoes and she looked puzzled and said no it was potato salad that her friend was bringing. Trying to be sensitive to the language differences, I asked what we would be putting the gravy on and she said maybe the rice, maybe the turkey – she wasn’t sure!
We made our bakery run and picked up a tray of a local sweets – luqmat al-qadi – they look like donut holes – fried dough pastry with a dab of cinnamon and honey in the center and sprinkled with ground pistachio. I had these at the tour of the Fanar cultural center with a tiny cup of local coffee and they are beyond addicting. No one at the dinner had ever seen them but the entire tray was empty before we even started clearing the table.
When we showed up with gravy, wine and cranberry sauce – everyone was so nice all in Spanish. I am picking up a little bit and they all wanted to speak a little English so eventually I figured out who all of the beautiful dark eyed children belonged to, who was married to who and how to make Nicholas (the 18 month child who lives next door) laugh out loud with an orange napkin.
One of the guys from Spain asked me if the little things in the gravy were garlic and actually looked squeamish when I told him they were boiled eggs. There was a beautiful young mother from Venezuela who I hope will share her dressing recipe – sausage, almonds – spicy and wonderful who asked me in charming broken English if gravy was something we had on holidays with the turkey bird. I was trying to explain southern dressing, mashed potatoes, peas and gravy with the turkey when her husband first tasted the gravy. “Mag, your southern sauce is delicious!”
The combination of foods was really interesting, everyone was friendly and we met some new people. We do love our neighborhood!
The next morning, another trip through the bakery – we bought a beautifully decorated chocolate cake with shaved pieces of chocolate on the sides with strawberries and a little whipped cream on top – and on top of that were carefully placed animal crackers which we figured were a gift to the Americans who seemed to be shopping there every day!
Green bean casserole without crispy fried onions – wouldn’t be the same so we mixed the mushroom soup and cans of green beans and then used the mandolin to cover the top with thinly sliced purple onions. I thought they would be way to sweet but after cooking for an hour – it was perfect! We had another delicious dinner – way too much food and a little bit of wine and a cup of coffee or two, we came home and couldn’t get off of the couch for the rest of the evening!
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