Thanksgiving is pizza. It's bialys and lox. To me, it's Chinese noodles, thick and chewy and doused in black vinegar and chili oil. It's pierogies smothered in sweet, glistening caramelized onions. It's my favorite cake from a bakery in upstate New York, and my favorite banana pudding from a bakery on the Upper West Side.
It's turkey and all the trimmings, too. But before the bird even goes into the oven, the long Thanksgiving weekend is my excuse to conduct an unofficial food tour of the New York City area during my annual trips back home for the holiday.
At least, it used to be. This year, like many Americans, I'm not going home for Thanksgiving. I can't dine with my extended family, and I won't get to revisit my favorite food memories from past haunts: the ultra-greasy slice from the pizza place where I worked in high school, the bowl of borscht from the 24-hour Ukrainian diner that turns my tongue magenta, the bagel so warm and fresh it can melt the entire inch-thick pad of cream cheese stuffed inside.
Instead, I'm having those memories delivered.
Takeout in the COVID era has moved beyond city limits. Today, a person in Minnesota can have breakfast from New Jersey, lunch from Tennessee, dinner from Texas and dessert from California.
It may sound impractical, even crass, when there are so many wonderful places to order food from right here. The carbon footprint is surely outrageous, and so is the cost.
But for homesick transplants, like me, it can bring as much comfort as a warm blanket. For small Minnesota food companies, it can be a profile-raising lifeline. And for travelers who typically plot their way through cities with maps of the best eats, it can be the next best thing to actually going somewhere.
Think of it as food tourism, without leaving your dining room table.