I make a fabulous tofurkey for Thanksgiving. My Mexican-Italian

In the spirited words of Christian Serratos, we find a truth that dances between tradition and transformation: “I make a fabulous tofurkey for Thanksgiving. My Mexican-Italian family can’t tell the difference.” At first, it may seem like a playful remark about food, yet within it lies the essence of cultural blending, adaptation, and the enduring human ability to preserve ritual while reshaping it to fit the needs of the present. The tofurkey is not just a dish; it is a symbol of both continuity and change, a bridge between the old and the new.

The meaning of her words begins with the tension between tradition and innovation. Thanksgiving, by long custom, centers on the turkey—a bird roasted and carved, placed at the head of the table as the emblem of the feast. Yet Serratos replaces this ancient centerpiece with tofurkey, a creation of soy and seasonings, imitating the form of the bird while remaining true to her chosen diet. Here we see the lesson: that traditions do not die when they change form. Instead, they endure precisely because they adapt, carrying their spirit into new expressions.

The presence of her Mexican-Italian family in the story deepens the meaning further. Families shaped by migration and interwoven heritage already embody the merging of multiple traditions. In such a household, there is no single way of doing things; instead, there is a constant blending, seasoning, and reshaping of customs. A family like hers, steeped in two rich cultures, finds in Thanksgiving not a rigid ritual, but a canvas upon which old and new, familiar and strange, can come together. That they “can’t tell the difference” is not only about flavor—it is about the deeper truth that love, gratitude, and unity make every dish taste like home.

History shows us similar moments of adaptation. When immigrants arrived on American shores, many embraced Thanksgiving, though it was not their native feast. Italians paired their turkeys with pasta, Chinese families served dumplings alongside stuffing, and Mexicans added spices and tortillas to the table. Each addition was not a departure from tradition, but a renewal of it. The feast survived not because it remained the same, but because it welcomed change. Serratos’ tofurkey is the latest echo of this same story, showing that tradition lives as long as its heart remains intact.

There is also something heroic in her lighthearted boast that her family “can’t tell the difference.” For it speaks to the power of craft, of care, of taking even a substitute and turning it into something joyous and beloved. The lesson here is that what matters is not always the material, but the devotion with which it is shaped. A meal prepared with love—whether turkey or tofurkey—becomes indistinguishable in its power to bring happiness, because the true seasoning of the feast is gratitude and care.

The lesson for us is thus: do not cling so tightly to the form of tradition that you lose its essence. The bird is not the feast; the feast is the gathering. The dish is not the meaning; the meaning is the love that prepares it and the fellowship that receives it. If a tofurkey can carry the weight of Thanksgiving, then any dish, any adaptation, can bear the spirit of gratitude, so long as it is offered with sincerity.

Practical wisdom follows. If you find yourself in a position where you cannot keep a tradition exactly as it was, do not despair. Adapt it, shape it, transform it, and offer it with joy. Invite your family into the process, as Serratos does, letting them see that tradition is alive, not frozen. For the heart of Thanksgiving is not in a recipe, but in the act of gathering, sharing, and giving thanks.

Thus, in the words of Christian Serratos, we are reminded that traditions are not brittle relics, but living flames. They change their vessel, but they burn with the same light. Whether turkey or tofurkey, pasta or tortillas, what matters is the circle of loved ones around the table, and the gratitude that fills the air. Let us then honor our traditions not by preserving them unchanged, but by carrying them forward with love, into forms that future generations will call their own.