I love Thanksgiving because it's a holiday that is centered

Marcus Samuelsson, master of many kitchens and bearer of a global heritage, once declared: “I love Thanksgiving because it's a holiday that is centered around food and family, two things that are of utmost importance to me.” In this reflection, he unveils a truth as old as humanity: that food and family are the twin pillars of life, the foundation upon which all joy and meaning rest. For in the breaking of bread and in the gathering of loved ones, we find both sustenance for the body and nourishment for the soul.

The origin of his love for Thanksgiving is rooted not only in American tradition, but also in his personal journey. Born in Ethiopia, raised in Sweden, and later embraced by America, Samuelsson embodies the interweaving of cultures. For him, food has never been just survival—it has been identity, memory, and love. To see Thanksgiving, a holiday built not on gifts or commerce but on a shared feast, is to see a reflection of what he treasures most: the act of cooking for others, and the sacred fellowship of family at the table.

History itself testifies to the truth of his words. The very first Thanksgiving in the 17th century was a gathering where survival and gratitude met at a table. Pilgrims and the Wampanoag people sat together to share what they had: corn, venison, fowl. It was not opulence that made it holy, but the act of sharing food in fellowship. Across cultures and centuries, from the harvest feasts of ancient Greece to the communal meals of villages in Africa and Asia, the union of food and family has always been seen as the highest celebration of life.

Samuelsson reminds us that food is never only about eating. A simple dish carries the stories of those who prepared it, the soil it came from, and the traditions passed down through generations. A grandmother’s stew, a father’s bread, a mother’s pie—all these bind us to those who came before us. When such food is eaten in the presence of family, it transforms into something eternal: a memory, a legacy, a moment that outlives the day itself.

But there is a deeper warning hidden within his reflection: in the rush of modern life, both food and family are often neglected. Families eat in haste, distracted by screens, forgetting that to share a meal is to affirm the bonds of love. Samuelsson calls us back to the ancient truth—that to cook and to gather is to practice reverence. Thanksgiving is not only a holiday; it is a reminder of what life should be all year long: a table full of food, a room full of family, and hearts full of gratitude.

The lesson for future generations is simple but profound: guard the sacred union of food and family. Do not allow busyness to rob you of the table. Make time to cook together, to eat together, to linger after meals in conversation and laughter. Teach children the recipes of their ancestors, so that the family’s story is carried forward in flavor and tradition. Let every meal, whether a simple breakfast or a great Thanksgiving feast, be an altar of love and connection.

Practical wisdom flows from this truth. At Thanksgiving, do not measure success by how elaborate the dishes are, but by the warmth of the fellowship. Invite those who are alone to share your table, for family can be chosen as well as inherited. Cook not only with your hands but with your heart, for food made with love carries power. And when you sit down together, pause to give thanks—not only for the meal before you, but for the presence of those around you.

Thus, Marcus Samuelsson’s words shine with the wisdom of the ancients. Food and family are not luxuries but essentials, not occasional pleasures but the very essence of a meaningful life. Thanksgiving celebrates this truth with special clarity, but it is a truth to be lived daily. Let every table you set be filled with gratitude, every dish be an offering of love, and every gathering of family a reminder that we are richest not in possessions, but in the company we keep and the bread we share.