Plantains meet pumpkin pie

A Colombian, a Haitian, and a Mexican are sitting at a table. No, this is not a joke. It's the story of a real Thanksgiving gathering, where Latin American and Caribbean culture mingled with New England traditions to produce a celebration like no other.

It was my second year studying in the United States. The year before, I had celebrated Thanksgiving for the first time. That Thanksgiving was spent at a boardinghouse with several students from other countries, just like me, and the American landlady who invited us all over. I took a lot of pictures for my mother and sent them back home to Mexico City. She was especially curious about the stuffing, and decided it was quite odd that anyone would bother to stuff a bird.

But that was the year before, and this time, I had no dinner invitations.

For most international students, Thanksgiving is that time of year when they are left alone on campus to eat cold pizza while all the other students devour turkey, mashed potatoes, and pumpkin pie with their families. After all, Thanksgiving is an American holiday, and many international students are passive spectators who watch the festivities with anthropological interest.

My friend Veronika, who was born and raised in Port -au-Prince, Haiti, suggested we spend Thanksgiving break together and eat turkey at a restaurant. Considering that until that moment I had no plans and might have ended up eating Spam out of a can, I enthusiastically agreed.

But a couple of days before break, Veronika called to say a family of Colombians and Cubans had invited us to share Thanksgiving dinner with them.

This family gathering was hardly a Norman Rockwell scene. But that was just fine. From the moment we arrived and were effusively greeted by our hosts with a hearty embrace and a kiss on the cheek, we felt right at home.Most people unused to mixing with Latin Americans, however, might have felt overwhelmed by the high-decibel excitement and exuberant greetings, which are common in Latin American circles.

We helped ourselves to a platter of shrimp and then sat down. Since many Latin Americans think of time as something subjective, meant to be enjoyed instead of measured, we surmised that the turkey wouldn't be served on schedule. And we figured the cooks would welcome a visit, so we also went into the kitchen to chat.

More guests arrived, each carrying a different side dish. The crowning moment came when the turkey was carried out to the dining room and triumphantly set in the center of the table.

It was golden and glistening and smelled just as appetizing as it looked. But the dishes that surrounded it were far from typical for the holiday. Empanadas Colombianas, crispy pieces of dough filled with meat, instantly caught my friend's eye. Substituting for mashed potatoes were the Moros y Cristianos. This dish, which in English means "Moors and Christians," is a Cuban specialty that combines black beans (the Moors) and rice (the Christians). It's not only tasty but also historically informative, as it visually exemplifies the three centuries of Moorish rule in Spain.

Whether they were interested in the history of their food or not, everyone understood the appeal of fried platano macho, a tasty and ultrasweet variety of banana. Also among the desserts were enough cakes to please even the sweetest tooth. And more traditional desserts were not shunned. In fact, a variety of pies coexisted peacefully right next to the platanos.

This doesn't seem so odd if you recall that many typical Thanksgiving foods are the result of the fusion of different cultures. The Aztecs were known to serve North American turkeys in the 1400s. Potatoes were first harvested in Peru by the Incas and then made their way north. And pumpkins were popular throughout the continent before the arrival of the Europeans.

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