AWC Going Dutch Nov Dec 2021

Falling Into Place
by Mary Adams
The memories that I have of the fall season start with my mother’s admonition that the
beginning of September means “no more white pants.” Winter whites were fine, but the
brisk crisp air of fall meant changing your wardrobe to match the natural colors of the
changing leaves. The winds of fall brought an excitement that rippled through the air marking
the end of summer vacation. In my youth, fall meant beginnings: a new school year, new clothes,
new tv shows (after a summer of reruns), my father “multi-watching” college football games,
and most of all, the anticipation of Halloween and family time at Thanksgiving.
As I grew up, pieces of fall fell away as I focused more on work. Fall became business conference
season, sweater and boot weather, and the anticipation of Christmas holidays. Without
children, Halloween turned into costume cocktail parties. I adopted the Mexican tradition of
Dios de los Muertos to honor ancestors. When I moved to Paris in 2000, Halloween, football,
the ancestors, and Thanksgiving ceased to exist to me. Fall season in Paris meant that the summer
tourists were gone, fashion was on the runway, a steaming cup of chocolat chaud was chic,
and patio heaters blasted warm air on my shoulders while I slurped French onion soup before
joining the craziness of Beaujolais Nouveau Day.
When I moved to the Netherlands, I started to miss American fall traditions. I decided to
put Thanksgiving back on the calendar. I bought a roasting pan, ordered a whole turkey, and
prepared a traditional menu of my favorite recipes for my partner’s family. I carved the turkey
and filled the plates. The mostly silent diners picked at their food. They disdained the gravy as
well as NPR Correspondent Susan Stamberg’s recipe for cranberry sauce. Perhaps it was the
cranberry sauce’s hot pink psychedelic glow that fellow diners didn’t find appetizing. I attempted
to lead a conversation about the Pilgrims and Delftshaven in Rotterdam, but alas, it was not so
interesting for a Dutch audience. I realized that I hadn’t even visited the harbor. T-Day rapidly
turned into D-Day. Dinner was a flop. The following year, I focused on the Dutch version of
the fall season, experimenting with fluffy scarves, nature walks, celebrating Prinsjesdag in The
Hague with the AWC, sipping hot chocolate with sky-high whipped cream, slurping snert, and
exploring Christmas markets.
Years rolled by before it occurred to me to mix and match fall traditions. It didn’t have to be
all American or all Dutch. Rather than a whole turkey, one could serve a single breast. Rather
than pea soup, one could serve pumpkin soup. I think the event that really put Thanksgiving
back on my mental map was the AWC Walking Tour of Pilgrim’s Leiden, where the Pilgrims
arrived as refugees in 1609. It was here that history and the present intersected in my brain and
released an intense feeling of gratitude. Although technically I was there as a tourist, emotionally
it was as if I had come full circle to the beginning.
Fall is the time between summer and winter when the days get shorter and colder. The
harvest moon glows and the aurora borealis lights up the sky. Birds and butterflies start their
migration. Fall becomes a state of mind, a celebration and preparation for things to come.
Friedrich Nietzsche said, “Notice that autumn is more the season of the soul than of nature.”
Emily Brontë might agree, “Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.” I
think it was Henry David Thoreau that captured the true essence of fall, “I would rather sit on a
pumpkin and have it all to myself, than be crowded on a velvet cushion.” As I sit on my pumpkin
and examine all my fall memories, it reminds me that slowly, everything is falling into place.
36 GOING DUTCH
Mama Stamberg’s Cranberry Relish
Makes 1 1/2 pints
2 cups whole raw cranberries, washed
1 small onion
3/4 cup sour cream
1/2 cup sugar
2 tablespoons horseradish
1. Grind the raw berries and onion together
in a food processor until a chunky grind—
2. not a puree.
3. Add everything else and mix.
4. Put in a plastic container and freeze.
5. Early Thanksgiving morning, move it from
freezer to refrigerator to thaw.
The relish will be thick, creamy, and shocking pink. As Susan Stamberg says. “OK, Pepto
Bismol pink. It has a tangy taste that cuts through and perks up the turkey and gravy. Its also
good on next-day turkey sandwiches, and with roast beef.”
The Fall of Persephone
by Mary Adams
I nibbled on a few pomegranate seeds
and the crown I wear now is hot and heavy on my head.
I yearn for Atu, Autumn, Equinox, and Fall
deciduous shades to fill my eyes with fiery colors
But I only see the red-hot flames against my throne.
I only nibbled on a few pomegranate seeds
dreaming of kollivozoumi broth laced with raisins.
I yearn for hærfest, harbitas, Herfst, Haust
the bright noon that nurtures the harvest
But I only see the demons of this dark palace.
I simply nibbled on a few pomegranate seeds
and my now lips are stained deep dark red.
I yearn for Demeter, Ceres, Earth Mother and
sweet, sour, musty, earthy, fruity aromatics
But I only see a gold chariot filled with chaff.
I ate six pomegranate seeds
and now I sit with Hades waiting for Spring.
NOVEMBER / DECEMBER 2021 37