Pre-Thanksgiving Pot-luck Dinner

by Amy

They ate by candlelight, the candles of all shapes and sizes flickering around the kitchen. Their plates were piled high with turkey and chestnut stuffing, candied yams and potatoes, peas and gravy. They’d all brought something to eat, except Ben, who didn’t cook. But he’d brought bottles of wine, which was even better. It was a regular get-together, and pot-luck was the only way Peter and Clara could afford to hold a dinner party.”

It was a regular get-together. This is the first such pot-luck meal we are invited to listen-in on in the books, but it’s not the first time for this particular group of friends, nor is it the last time we’ll be invited to join them. Dinner at the Morrow’s features repeatedly in the books, and if their walls could speak…

This particular meal takes place just before Thanksgiving and right after Olivier and Gabri go through an unpleasant experience and are not only buoyed by their friends, but actually have undisputable evidence of support when said friends spend the morning helping them clean the Bistro. During dinner conversation, while they do mention their hurt, the couple focuses on their gratefulness for friendship.

It was a phenomenon Myrna had noticed before, some people’s ability to turn a terrible event into a triumph. She’d thought about it that morning, manure under her fingernails, pausing for a moment to look at the people, young and old, pitching in. and she was one of them. And she blessed, again, the day she’d decided to quit the city and come here and sell books to these people. She was finally home. Then another image came back to her, one that had gotten lost in the activity of the morning. Of Ruth leaning on her cane, turning away from the others, so that only Myrna could see the wince of pain as the elderly woman lowered herself to her knees, and silently scrubbed. All morning.

I believe that what Myrna is thinking of is integral to resilience.

I don’t know if Louise Penny placed this idea of resilience during a holiday dedicated to thankfulness on purpose or not, but I think there’s poetic reasoning to it. Resilient people are often those who are grateful and who are able to spin meaning in the retelling of their stories and experiences. There is power in active optimism, where you work to ensure the best outcome. And, maybe most important of all, resilience is a product of belonging, of acceptance, of a sense of community.

When writing a paper on resilience what most struck me, as a new mother, was the importance of a mother-figure or at least one person in a child’s life who cared and who loved and accepted them unconditionally. At the time, I was less impacted by the importance of a network of friends and a sense belonging, both of which were often mentioned in papers on resilience.

Maybe that’s one of the reasons why so many of us love Three Pines and yearn to be among those blessed few who inhabit the idyllic village. It’s not that the characters are perfect. They aren’t. We slowly uncover their layers as the series goes on and the characters also get to know each other better. They are exposed to deep dark secrets they may not have even wanted to admit to themselves, much less each other. They go through hardships, disappointments, fears, and loss. They anchor each other. 

Their love is not blind. They are perfectly aware of their flaws and as they uncover their friends’ shortcomings they do not turn on each other. They adjust, adapt, compensate, learn, grow… and accept. Of course, it's hard not to be aware of your flaws if you hang out with Ruth...

There is a kind of magic in knowing that someone is willing to be there for you even when it isn’t fun. Gabri toasted his friends in gratitude for their loyalty and help. He chose to concentrate on that instead of the damage to their feelings and the Bistro. But part of the reason he was able to turn “a terrible event into a triumph” was because he had their support to begin with. He knew he belonged. He knew he would be embraced and taken care of. That gave him – and Olivier – the strength to shift the significance of the event. Their joy in friendship was greater than the pain of rejection.

These same friends were intimate enough and close enough to tease them about their choice – despite being chefs – of contributing canned peas to dinner. I felt obligated to add canned peas to my own interpretation of this meal. I’m not much of a turkey-eater and couldn’t imagine making a whole turkey for our small family (the left-overs alone would probably drive me crazy since none of us much care for it). So I adapted the meal and made white raisin and cashew nut stuffing for chicken breasts. We shared the meal with a friend who was staying over at our home that day. I added a salad and some fresh homemade bread I’d baked earlier that day.

The pea can was carefully opened and poured into a bowl. I took as much care as I assume Gabri and Olivier did.

The potatoes were coated in olive oil mixed with minced garlic and fresh herbs – then baked for an hour.

The chicken was based on this recipe – switching the cranberries and chestnuts for white raisins and cashew nuts (which are easier to find here):http://www.cityline.ca/2009/11/chicken-breast-stuffed-with-chestnuts/

My husband’s comment was a “Ruth-like” complaint that it was hard to stop eating – I took it as a glowing compliment on the food.

The meal is found on page 23 of the paperback edition of Still Life.