Dosi Cotroneo

It all started around 35 years ago. Not the first Thanksgiving of course, but actually the first Thanksgiving dinner at my house not too far from Little Italy’s Preston Street. Ma had no knowledge of this special day on the Canadian and American calendars so for the first few years of our life in Canada, Thanksgiving came and went without much notice and even less hullaballoo. That is until my eldest sister informed my parents that we just had to conform to the ways of our new found land and cook up a big turkey, hence the hopes of beginning a new tradition in our newly Canadianised family. 

My father, like his father before him, was an avid hunter and decided to do the manly thing and go out and shoot a turkey. Living in Ottawa’s little Italy, however, finding a suitable bird in the Preston Street area would prove to be no easy task. Ma convinced him to put away his rifle and head down to the Byward Market instead. In those days, fresh – or rather live poultry and rabbits were for sale to the general public. I’ll never forget that long and crowded bus ride home with that live turkey in tow.

Fearing the worst for that bird, I headed straight to the playground while my parents and sister did all of the preparations for this new, mysterious feast.

My mother’s culinary skills were second to none, that is as long as pasta and tomato sauce were on the menu. Having never cooked up a bird before and not owning a large roasting pan, Ma decided to toss the whole thing in the oven and let it cook directly on the racks. A few hours later, the fire department left and we decided to clean up the mess and give thanks for another great dinner of Ma’s spaghetti and meatballs.

Not much has changed since. Oh sure, my sister’s and I have perfected cranberry sauce, stuffing and pumpkin pies, but my Ma has never attempted to cook another bird. This Thanskgiving, I was thankful to have my entire family together once again, and we all made a contribution to the feast. The sister that started it all baked the bird and made the stuffing. Sister number two prepared all of the traditional side dishes, and I baked all of the pies – pumpkin, apple and cherry. Ma showed up with one of her all-time favorites – eggplant parmigiana. It’s comforting to know that some things never change.