I'd love to give my girls a traditional Thanksgiving with turkey

Debi Mazar, with warmth and candor, once reflected: “I'd love to give my girls a traditional Thanksgiving with turkey and all that jazz, but we've raised them to love Tuscan food so much that they don't care for it. My favorite is a nice polenta with beef stew and broccoli rabe on the side.” In this confession lies a truth about the tension between tradition and heritage, between the customs of a nation and the unique flavors of a family’s identity. Thanksgiving may carry with it turkey, stuffing, and pies, but for Mazar, the feast is reshaped through the Tuscan lens that defines her household. It is a reminder that holidays are not only about national customs, but about the flavors of love and upbringing that make a family’s table its own.

The origin of her words lies in her marriage and life in Italy, where Tuscan cuisine became an intimate part of her daily life. While the American Thanksgiving meal is rooted in the harvests of New England, Tuscan food draws from olive oil, grains, vegetables, and slow-cooked meats. For her children, raised within that culinary tradition, a plate of polenta, beef stew, and broccoli rabe carries more nostalgia and comfort than a platter of turkey ever could. Thus, what might appear as a departure from Thanksgiving’s traditions is, in truth, a deeper fidelity to the family’s lived experience—the tradition of their own household.

History reveals that this blending of cultures is not new. When waves of immigrants came to America in the 19th and 20th centuries, they brought with them their own dishes and rituals, which they wove into American holidays. Italian-American families often added pasta to the Thanksgiving table, while Mexican-Americans brought tamales, and Jewish families might add kugel or brisket. In time, the “traditional Thanksgiving” became not a single meal, but a living mosaic of many. Mazar’s choice to embrace Tuscan flavors continues this story, affirming that culture is not static, but ever-evolving.

The deeper meaning of her words is that love defines tradition more than recipes do. A Thanksgiving feast is sacred not because of the turkey itself, but because of the gathering, the laughter, the telling of stories, and the passing of dishes from hand to hand. By serving the foods her daughters love, Mazar ensures that the spirit of the holiday—gratitude, family, and abundance—remains alive, even if the menu looks different from her childhood memories. True tradition, then, is not imitation of the past, but faithfulness to the values that endure.

We see echoes of this truth in the story of the Jewish diaspora, where families scattered across nations reshaped ancient feasts with the ingredients available in their new homes. Passover might look different in Morocco than it did in Poland, yet the essence remained untouched. So too with Thanksgiving: whether it is celebrated with turkey, polenta, tamales, or dumplings, its essence of gratitude and unity is what must endure. Mazar’s Tuscan table is no less Thanksgiving than a New England one, for the soul of the holiday is found not in the food itself, but in the love that flavors it.

The lesson for future generations is clear: do not cling so tightly to the form of tradition that you forget its spirit. Holidays are not about rigid sameness, but about carrying forward the values of gratitude, family, and joy in a way that is authentic to your life. It is better to serve food that brings delight to your family than to force dishes that carry no meaning for them. By shaping tradition to your reality, you give your children a feast they will remember with affection, not one they will endure with indifference.

Practical wisdom flows from this truth. If your family has roots in another land, weave those flavors into your celebrations. Teach your children not only recipes, but the stories that go with them, so they know who they are and where they come from. And when you gather at the table, remember that it is not the perfection of the meal that sanctifies the holiday, but the gratitude that surrounds it. Cook with love, serve with joy, and let the feast—whether turkey or polenta—become a reflection of your own family’s identity.

Thus, Debi Mazar’s words remind us that Thanksgiving is not only about turkey and all that jazz—it is about the inheritance of flavors, the preservation of memory, and the honoring of what truly nourishes the heart. Let each family make the holiday its own, and in doing so, let every table become a testament to both heritage and gratitude, bound together in love.