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This is my second Thanksgiving living abroad, and even after all this time, I still feel that familiar tug in my heart when this holiday rolls around. I may live in Italy now, but I love America. I still pay my taxes, I still vote, and I still carry a deep patriotism wherever I go. I just wanted an adventure. I wanted to wake up every morning surrounded by art, history, and culture you can’t fit into a two-week vacation. So I moved to Florence and let myself be swallowed up by the beauty of it all.
Obviously, Italy does not celebrate Thanksgiving, but they do recognize it, especially in cities like Florence with big American expat communities. You can walk down the street and spot pumpkin spice lattes on chalkboard menus, maple cappuccinos in cozy cafes, and even pumpkin pie in a few pasticcerias. It always makes me smile and feel like home.
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My first Thanksgiving here was pure chaos, but in a good way. I hosted thirteen expats and one Italian guest. I cooked the entire spread with Italian ingredients, which was an adventure all by itself since I had only been here four months and didn’t know where to find half the things I needed. I could not track down a turkey, so I roasted chickens in sage butter instead. I had a few boxes of Stove Top stuffing in my pantry from my cousin who visited us in the summer. You get really good at sending people arriving from the States an Instacart order to tuck into their luggage. I upgraded the Stove Top with fresh porcini mushrooms, Tuscan sausage, dates, and pine nuts. It was amazing.
Although, the green bean casserole nearly broke me. I used fresh beans, a truffle mushroom cream sauce, and those crunchy, slightly sweet flakes they put on top of sushi rolls to mimic the fried onions. It was really good. My sweet potatoes were another puzzle since marshmallows are nearly impossible to find here and maple syrup costs twelve euros a bottle. I used local honey, brown sugar, cinnamon, and scraped the fluffy cream out of cookies I found. For gravy, I used the chicken drippings. I made mashed potatoes and a huge platter of Brussels sprouts with pancetta and freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano. And yes, we also served traditional Italian lasagna Bolognese.
Some guests had never experienced Thanksgiving before. A couple from Amsterdam and a man from Berlin were wide-eyed the whole night. Our Italian friend was completely blown away. She told me she had only ever seen Thanksgiving in American movies and never imagined she would taste those dishes in real life. Her favorite ended up being the sweet potatoes. All in all, it was a magical night. We ended it with a homemade pumpkin cheesecake made from fresh roasted pumpkin because canned pumpkin doesn’t exist here unless you trek to the Chinese markets, where they sell US products that cost a small fortune.
This year will be different. We’re going out with friends. A restaurant nearby is doing a full American Thanksgiving buffet with turkey, gravy, stuffing, and more pies than I’ll know what to do with.
Celebrating Thanksgiving so far from home is definitely different. There is a homesick piece that never entirely goes away. But there is also something really special about sharing your culture with people from around the world and watching their faces light up at flavors every American grew up with. I have learned that Thanksgiving is not tied to a place. It’s a state of mind. It stays with you, no matter where you go. I carry it proudly, because being an American is something I cherish.
And even though I’m thousands of miles away, I know exactly how your homes will smell today. I know how the laughter will sound. I know the rhythms of the holiday so well that I can picture it all from my apartment in Florence, where I will also have the Lions game on.
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The traditions I love haven’t disappeared. They’re all still here with me, just in a slightly different form.
I wish every one of you a safe, warm, beautiful Thanksgiving. From a friend across the ocean, sitting in Florence with turkey and gravy on her plate, feeling grateful for the United States of America.
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