The Italians don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, though they do have a name for it: il Giorno del Ringraziamento. There was a big turkey dinner organized for grateful expatriates in Bologna, but it wasn’t happening until the weekend after Thanksgiving Thursday. What is it about the actual day of Thanksgiving that demands mashed potatoes, stuffing and family? Luckily, I had my little sister Anna out visiting, and she helped me realize all three of those requirements.

 
Armed with a modified shopping list, we cruised around Bologna looking for ingredients to prepare a goat cheese, walnut and dried cranberry stuffing and some killer garlic mashed potatoes. Being in a foreign country means adapting to new things on a daily basis, but sometimes cooking feels like the most difficult skill to translate. Temperatures are different, measurements are different, and the ingredients listed on the US recipe are scattered and hidden around the city with confusing names. But in the end, we triumphed and made a delicious dinner on Thanksgiving itself.

The next day we traveled to Modena, the birthplace of balsamic vinegar (Thank you, Modena!). Though almost everything was closed on a Friday afternoon, we stumbled upon the most beautiful autumn park I’ve seen. The trees were ostentatiously bright, the leaves on the ground were a colorful carpet, and the grey sky made all of it pop in unbelievable hues. For two California girls, a park full of fall foliage is better than a visit to an art museum. We missed the 15th century version of The Divine Comedy displayed in the closed gallery, but the warm chestnuts we ate from a paper cone as we wandered through the park made me forget all about it.

It was a perfect Thanksgiving.