Beth Camp Historical Fiction

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

March 20: Scintilla Day 8: It was the best of feasts . . .

Thanksgiving. My sister and I invited eighteen people to gather for an unforgettable meal. We spent hours shopping, cutting, preparing, stewing, boiling, baking. Every special food had been prepared for this four-course Swedish Thanksgiving feast. We took more time in the kitchen than planned. People wandered in and out, encouraging us, for we had prepared no appetizers. By the time we sat down to table, our guests had that lean and hungry look, almost dangerous.

Cartoon from Uffdashop
My sister and I sat at the head of the table, together on this special day. She brought in the first round of salads, all well received, even Sill Salad, a beet concoction my grandmother used to make. I brought in the first platter of lutefisk and politely passed it around. I watched as the platter made its way around the table. No takers. Mutters arose as that platter returned to us untouched. "No turkey?" someone queried. My sister and I dug in; this was a feast: Light, succulent lutefisk made with traditional white gravy. Our guests ate broccoli and corn. They were grateful for pie.

NOTE: I'm joining the Scintilla Project (daily writing prompts for two weeks) while on the road. Read what others have written at or jump on Twitter at #scintilla13 and write on!


  1. Oh, Beth... I love this story. It sounds like a feast fit for a queen, as you and your sister are... I bet my daughter would have tried it. She doesn't like Turkey and quite frankly, pretty much abhors Thanksgiving all together!!

    Thanks for putting a smile on my face! Writing my scintilla13 post today put me through the wringer.. in the best sort of way! :~)

  2. This is a wonderful tale. I loved this: "our guests had that lean and hungry look, almost dangerous."

    I have seen that look. I can never get a big meal out on time.

  3. Ha! Funny. People have such conditions surrounding Thanksgiving. I've always enjoyed the non-traditional, myself. One year we had spanakopita. Maybe it's because of our travels, you think?