Vegans don't need to sacrifice anything to have a delicious holiday meal like this Soy Seitan "Turkey".
Thanksgiving seems to be the meal most likely to trip up vegetarians, especially new veggies with little or no support from their families. In fact, I think the last meat we ever served in our home was turkey at Thanksgiving. We'd invited international students over, and my husband wanted to show them a "real" American Thanksgiving. I also remember our guests were so full after the meal, they insisted we walk around the block, in freezing Wisconsin weather.
There is something about roasting, smoking, or frying a huge bird that signifies traditions long held in our American consciousness. The early Pilgrims, who supposedly started this whole thing, were celebrating the harvest, not the kill. So what is it about a dead bird that Americans feel a need for on Thanksgiving?
The Pilgrims had barely survived the winter before, to hear them tell it. Perhaps the dead bird represents, paradoxically, survival to modern Americans. Survival of the fittest, anyway.
What's a vegetarian to do, in the face of centuries of tradition? How does one convey the same sense of safety and conformity without buying and cooking a Butterball? Are three hundred and sixty four days a year of cruelty-free eating to be tossed aside like plastic wrap, in favor of a familial ritual?
They don't have to be. I've always enjoyed making an elaborate centerpiece dish for Thanksgiving and Christmas. One that my family especially likes involves chicken-flavored seitan, whole-wheat bread stuffing, and homemade gravy, covered with lengths of puff pastry. Sometimes I cut out fall leaves from the excess pastry and decorate the top. Other times I've made turkey-like loaves, and recently I made an elegant meal of pressed tofu stuffed with cornbread stuffing.
My family always enjoys my festive centerpieces, much more than if I just stuffed a squash. The preparation itself—making whole-wheat bread, basting the loaf, stretching out pastry—recreates the traditional event and all its rituals without the guilt associated with eating the flesh of an animal.
When I served my last turkey, all those years ago, I insisted, in my lighthearted way, on saying a prayer for his life. That may have dampened some appetites, but, like native American hunters before me, I couldn't have allowed this bird's sacrifice to go unremarked. We thank the cook for his or her labors in the kitchen; why not the animal who suffered for our meal?
Maybe it's because the third Thursday in November is just like any other day here in England, but I've come to see that Thanksgiving has nothing to do with what's served, or when it's served, or who it's celebrated with. This year, I'm invited to some friends' house, the Saturday after. I'm going to bring a vegetarian centerpiece, probably Bryanna Grogan's Soy and Seitan Roulades. I hope sharing my own traditions will help others see that the good feelings associated with Thanksgiving can be shared fully by vegans.
Real American Thanksgiving celebrations don't have to involve dead birds, or even family, or don't even, it turns out, have to be celebrated on the third Thursday in November.
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