Cross-cultural culinary exchange – turkey, mashed potatoes, with “Basil”跨文化美食交流 – 火鸡，土豆泥和Basil

This Thanksgiving, I visited my parents in Seattle. Last summer, they relocated to the rainy Northwest after 10 years in sunny Honolulu, so I came home to a house I never knew. But inside were three generations of my extended family, which brought me warmth unmatched by any L.L. Bean moccasin or Starbucks latte.

Seattle is also home to the University of Washington, where I sent two of my students when I was a college counselor in Nanjing. One of them, Basil, had no plans for Thanksgiving dinner, so I invited him to join my family’s feast along with a dozen family members plus my sister’s friend Heather (my mom declared that all non-relatives must have herb-related names). Basil was thrilled to accept. It would be his first Thanksgiving, and I felt warm and fuzzy for the honor of showcasing some of America’s proudest traditions, all slathered in piping hot gravy.

Shortly before dinner, I greeted Basil at the bus stop and proceeded to give him a rundown on what to expect, “Don’t hesitate to ask if you don’t understand something. No need to be polite. And if you don’t like how something tastes, you don’t have to eat it!”

Once inside, I realized at last how my universe was on its head: after myriad such conversations about the five-thousand-year-old traditions of the Middle Kingdom, I was lecturing my Chinese student on first downs and quarterbacks, the significance of apple pie, and how to address different family members. Taking a step back from my excessive curating, I racked my brain to remember the qualities of my best Chinese hosts. But my nervousness returned when Basil told me how Chinese students commiserate about American colleges’ dearth of good eats. Desperately, I wanted him to like everything, but I knew how off-putting it can be when my hopeful Chinese peers silently pressure me to feign enjoyment.

I felt protective of Basil, my student. Wanting to shield him from awkward situations, I also knew that he could thrive when given space to grow. So I excused myself to the bathroom. When I returned, Basil had half the room engaged in lively discussion. I could not have been prouder of a student who, when I first met him in August 2011, begged me not to make him speak English. The only time I spoke Mandarin all night was during the final stages of meal preparation, when Basil came to me in the kitchen, holding out his Skype-enabled smartphone. On the screen appeared Basil’s mom, who waved hello and thanked me for looking after her son half a world away. The beauty of that moment will stay with me for a lifetime.

To my relief, Basil continued to load food onto his plate, noting that my mom’s juicy roast turkey was his favorite dish. The delicious cake he brought from Chinatown met with rave reviews, completing our cross-cultural culinary exchange. But in the end, those were but the smallest things to be thankful for.

这个感恩节我去拜访了我在西雅图的父母。在阳光明媚的Honolulu居住了十年之后，他们在去年夏天搬到了阴雨连绵的西北部，于是这次回家对我来说是回到一个完全陌生的房子。但是这个房子里面住着我们家祖孙三代的亲人，他们带给我的温暖是连L.L.Bean柔软的莫卡辛鞋和一杯暖腾腾的星巴克拿铁都无法比拟的。

西雅图也是华盛顿大学的所在地，当我还是在南京当高校辅导员的时候，我曾经帮助我的两个学生申请到那里过。他们中的一个，Basil,没有任何感恩节计划，于是我邀请他到我们家来与我们的家庭成员一起参加我们的感恩节小聚会。我妹妹的朋友Heather也会过来。（我妈妈决定所有非亲戚成员的名字都必须与草本植物有关。） Basil受宠若惊的答应了我的邀请。这将是他的第一个感恩节，而我也因有幸展现一些美国最引以为豪的抹着厚厚一层滚烫的酱汁的传统而感到窝心并隐约激动着。

在晚饭快要开始之前，我在公车站接到了Basil并给他简单介绍了晚上的流程让他心里有个数：“如果你又什么不懂的尽管问，不用太拘谨。如果你不喜欢什么东西的味道也不必勉强自己吃。”

进门之后，我终于意识到我的宇宙已经如何被颠覆了： 经过无数关于中华帝国有着五千年悠久历史的传统的对话之后，我开始教我的中国学生什么是第一次进攻和四分卫，苹果派有多重要以及如何称呼家庭的不同成员。从我过度的策划中退一步出来，我绞尽脑汁的试图去回忆起我最好的中国主导的品质。但是当Bsil告诉我中国学生是如何同情美国大学是如何缺乏美食的时候，我的紧张感又一次回归了。我很绝望的希望他能喜欢所有东西，但是我也知道当我充满希望的中国同胞带来无形压力的时候假装开心享受是多么倒胃口的一件事。

我对我的学生Basil有种莫名的保护欲。我不想让他陷入气氛尴尬的状况，我也知道给予他一定的空间让他成长的话他会更自在。于是我借口去了厕所。当我回来的时候Basil已经与整个屋子的人热络的聊了起来。我还记得当我2011年8月份第一次见到他的时候，他恳求我不要让他说英语，现在看着眼前的他，我心中的自豪感已经无法形容了。我整晚唯一说普通话的时候就是在准备食物的最后阶段。当时Basil进到厨房里来找我说话，拿出了他能用Skype聊天的智慧型手机。屏幕上是他的妈妈，她热情的向我招手打招呼并感谢我在地球的另一边照顾她的儿子。我想，那一刻的美妙会伴随我的一生。 

让我感到轻松的是，Basil有继续往他的盘子里盛食物，并说我妈妈做的鲜美多汁的烤火鸡是他最喜欢的一道菜。他从中国城带来的美味的蛋糕也获得了极高的评价，让我们的跨文化美食交流更加完整。虽然最后它们已经变成那晚让人心怀感激的最微不足道的事了。