Pie-eyed

Elder daughter's British version of the family recipe

Ah, Thanksgiving Day in Canada.

This is our fifth back in Victoria, our fourth spent in our present home, and our third pandemic Thanksgiving, although you'd never guess it from the lack of social distancing and masks.

We keep hearing of friends, neighbours, and acquaintances coming down with COVID.  So far, no one seriously ill.

Thanksgiving is neither my favourite holiday, nor my least favourite holiday, but, as someone who suffers from a certain degree of introversion, and a deep dislike of cooking, it's not the best occasion for a celebration that completely revolves around food.

However, I have daughters for whom this is a relatively big deal. Younger daughter carefully notes any special day as a balm to her autism and anxiety, and Thanksgiving is the day she either makes bread rolls, or follows the family recipe (from an ancient edition of the Vancouver Sun) for pumpkin pie.

Pumpkin pie is also the order of the day over in Britain, where elder daughter has lead her only slightly nonplussed flatmates (one Welsh, one South African, and one Austrian) through the ritual, which involves navigating a meal shared by two carnivores, one vegetarian, and one vegan.

Today, she's braving the London transport system with a pumpkin pie in her lap, to join her second cousins on the Resident Fan Boy's side: one Albertan, and one American.

We will miss her, as we have for the past five Thanksgivings.