Promising posts this week about the difficulties Sara and I faced last year, trying to celebrate Thanksgiving from Haiti, I’ve already outlined what I called the “oven-related challenges.”
Today, however, shopping-related issues take center stage—the consumer-driven hazards that nearly brought down what we hoped would be a tradition-centered holiday celebration. In fact, it seemed the more I tried to model our Thanksgiving feast in Haiti on the one Grandma would have catered, the larger the obstacles threatening it loomed.
So, buyer beware.
Wisely, Sara and I had anticipated some of these issues and brought back from the US several Thanksgiving menu items we thought might be needed—imagined we wouldn’t find in Haiti, even in the expat-oriented grocery stores in Petion-ville.
But as you might expect (those of you who know my pathetic track record when it comes to poor packing), I anticipated incorrectly—finding in Haiti what I had brought back but not bringing what I didn’t find. Just my bad Thanksgiving luck!
Except for canned pumpkin—that is.
Here I hit the pie-filling nail on its not-so-proverbial-pie-filling head. I swear there was not an ounce of Libby’s to be had on the whole of that damn island—cherry pie filling, yes—canned yams, yes—canned pumpkin in time for Thanksgiving pie-baking—no sir—none of it—anywhere. And believe me, I looked.
But we needn’t have worried. I may not have had a thermostatically controlled oven to bake the pie in, but I did have a full 29 ounce can of “America’s Favorite Pumpkin” to put in it. That I did bring back.
Now about the celery—
I had a bit of scare two days before Thanksgiving trying to find this vegetable, almost as essential to stuffing as sage itself.
Standing in Giant Market, I came so close to a celery-induced heart attack, I found myself imagining, “What would Jesus do?” What would the son of God himself (assuming he were a turkey-stuffing kind of carpenter) use in his stuffing were the stalks of stringy stuff not available? If he turned water into wine, could he turn carrots into celery?
But, again, you need not fear, as Saint Sara herself performed a miracle in the end, finally finding what she called a “not very robust” celery (but a celery-looking substance nonetheless) in the grocery store near her office.
Catastrophe averted. We were that much closer to a celery-ed stuffing inside our bird that was to be roasted at a temperature the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit were themselves to determine. (Remember, we had an oven without a thermostat.)
Then there was the chicken broth—
The day before Thanksgiving Sara sent me to the super market for some cans of it, among other things. Actually, Giant carried the item in both the Swanson and Campbell’s variety—the Swanson, carton-ed with no added MSG and the Campbell’s, canned with all the blood-pressure-raising MSG one would ever want. And being a health-conscious, not-wanting-to-consume-excessive-amounts-of-salt American, I selected the broth without MSG. In fact, I tried to check out with three cartons of the stuff, since Thanksgiving dinner calls for broth in both the gravy and as a moistening agent in any well-celery-ed stuffing.
Here was the hitch. Though the store stocked the Swanson’s (over-stocked it, in fact)—they wouldn’t sell it to me. And, if sheer quantity were any indication, wouldn’t sell to anybody, for that matter. They couldn’ t figure out the price. So, when, after thirty minutes of trying to determine one, no member of the sales or management staff could still settle on the number of “gourde” to make me pay, I suggested they charge me anything.
“Over-charge me,” I even offered—a concept they seemed not to grasp—though they seemed to get it well enough when selling products on the street and doubling the price when any non-Haitian tried to buy.
But undeterred and unwilling to waste any more of my time-is-money American minutes, I gave up, bought the cans of Campbell’s, and headed home, risking ill-health along the way.
So the bottom line was this— the shopping obstacles, though they were multiple and at times bizarre, did not obstruct in any hugely significant way. These were more imagined obstacles than obstacles of real substance—
So Saint Sara, the wise and proper packer, had been (as she is in all things) probably right about this, as well–
—Since the anticipated shopping obstacles were, like the celery itself . . .
. . . “not very robust” obstacles, after all.
(Continued here with photos of how it all turned out)
What strange, even borderline bizarre, shopping experiences have you had?