Though Joe and I decided to eschew the celebration of Halloween this year (the thought of being stared and giggled at even more than usual was disheartening), we were not about to give up on Thanksgiving. We decided to get together with other teachers who were also missing the feasts with their families, and celebrate on the Saturday after Thanksgiving.
Problem was and is, we don't have an oven. We have a two burner system, which seems to laugh in my face whenever I imagine baking a comforting batch of cookies. Having a Thanksgiving without turkey seemed like a sin, so I asked my boss if there was an oven we could possibly use at my school. I was thinking about the cafeteria ovens, but was told that there was a home ec room we could use. Only catch was we'd have to cook the turkey on Friday and eat it cold, or microwaved, on Saturday. Better that than no turkey, say I!
The home ec room at my school is giant. It's got about nine ovens, and a wall to wall, ceiling to floor cabinet for all kinds of bowls, pans, cutlery, cutting boards, etc.. After cooking in our tiny kitchen for the last four months, this place was like heaven. It bears mentioning, however, that the home ec room also doubles as a shop room. How this makes sense, I'm not sure. But besides all the cooking equipment, there were also pieces of engine blocks scattered around the room, a line of glue guns, mat cutting board, and other tools. Strings of glue hung from the ceiling like cobwebs--how they had gotten there is anyone's guess. As we explored the room, it became apparent that it is rarely used. The ovens were dusty, the fridge empty. Later, I found out that the room is only used for cooking class once a month, if that.
Joe heaved the fully stuffed and dressed turkey over from our apartment (across the street) to the school, and then waited in the hall while my co-teacher wrangled up the keys for the home ec room. Joe was wearing shorts and flip-flops. Why do I mention this, you might ask? I thought nothing of his outfit; despite the cold weather, that is just how Joe rolls. What I forgot was that the teachers and especially the students at my school have this strange fascination/fear with/of Joe. Maybe it's his beard, only sported by sex fiends or old men here. Maybe it's his beefy carriage. I'm not sure. Regardless, within moments, the office was aflutter with talk of Joe. Of course, all of this was in Korean and I would have gone ignorant of it all had my co-teacher not informed me that the teachers were all whispering and giggling over Joe's shorts. It was the shorts, and not the 18-pound stuffed turkey, that made the bigger impression.
After showing us how to turn on the gas stoves and informing us that our 18-pound turkey should only take two hours to cook, my co-teacher left us in the home ec room. I decided to take advantage of the one of the many ovens and made 8 dozen chocolate chip cookies. All told, we spent 7 hours in the home ec room. We watched Christmas Vacation and The Last Waltz on Joe's computer while we cooked--good stuff. The entire floor smelled like turkey when we were done. The smell was so wonderful, so familiar, and so comforting. It felt so good to really cook again--to have access to ovens, huge stainless steel sinks, and a bounty of kitchen implements.
The next day, we had seven people over--friends that we originally met during orientation at Jeonju. Joe had decorated the apartment with Thanksgiving paraphernalia and made a hand turkey for the front door. Yes, a hand turkey. Everyone brought something. Besides the turkey and cookies, our feast included candied nuts, a mountain of mashed potatoes, grilled veggies, canned sweet potatoes (Thanks, Rose!), pumpkin pie, croissants, rolls, green beans, and stuffing. The only thing missing was a boldly colored jello dish. Alas, jello was the one thing I could not find.
Though Joe and I really missed everyone back home and will never take a family holiday for granted again, we were so thankful for the group of friends that made their way by train, taxi, and bus to our little apartment to drink and eat the hours away.
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